Mnangagwa’s Parirenyatwa visit raises more questions than it answers

Source: Mnangagwa’s Parirenyatwa visit raises more questions than it answers

In Zimbabwe, nothing is ever quite what it seems—beneath every public gesture lies a deeper, often troubling story.

Tendai Ruben Mbofana

President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s sudden unannounced visit to Parirenyatwa Group of Hospitals—Zimbabwe’s largest public health facility—has been lauded by some as a sign of a “hands-on approach” to the country’s dire public healthcare crisis.

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Yet, to the discerning and informed Zimbabwean, this is not only an insult to our collective intelligence but an indictment of a presidency that has presided over the collapse of the very same public health system for the past eight years.

Where was this “hands-on leader” all along, as patients and their families cried out in desperation over the appalling state of public hospitals?

Why now, after years of turning a blind eye to collapsing infrastructure, empty drug shelves, lack of cancer and dialysis machines, and grotesque understaffing, is the president suddenly taking interest?

The truth is: Mnangagwa’s visit is not born out of compassion for suffering Zimbabweans.

Could this sudden interest in healthcare rehabilitation be driven less by a genuine concern for public welfare, and more by the prospect of multi-million-dollar deals that may serve political or personal interests?

For nearly a decade since assuming power in 2017, Mnangagwa never set foot in Parirenyatwa or any other public hospital to assess conditions firsthand.

This, despite the outcries from patients who have had to bring their own medication, bandages, antiseptics, and even food—while lying on worn-out mattresses or bare metal beds.

Ceilings are falling apart, walls are mold-infested, operating theatres barely function, and ambulances are either non-existent or grossly inadequate.

Cancer patients have been condemned to slow and painful deaths because of broken or outdated radiotherapy machines.

And yet, throughout all this, Mnangagwa remained conspicuously absent.

Many Zimbabweans, who cannot afford private care, have been forced to travel to Zambia or South Africa to access basic treatment.

These are not elites with overflowing bank accounts—they are poor citizens who have had to borrow money, fundraise, or hitchhike in desperation.

Their only crime is being born in a country where those in power care more about flashy ceremonies and foreign travel than the lives of ordinary people.

If Mnangagwa truly had the interests of Zimbabweans at heart, he would not need an official report to spur him into action.

A real leader walks among the people, unannounced and unfiltered, to understand their pain.

Former Rhodesian Prime Minister Ian Smith—despite leading a brutal and oppressive regime—was at least known for making unannounced visits to public institutions, often incognito and without the glare of state media.

These were not public relations stunts, but appeared driven by a genuine desire to assess conditions firsthand and improve the standards of service delivery in state institutions.

Similarly, in post-independence Zimbabwe, ministers like Herbert Ushewokunze and Timothy Stamps were frequently seen in public hospitals, showing both concern and commitment.

Today, under Mnangagwa and Health Minister Douglas Mombeshora, such acts of leadership are a distant memory.

So, what has changed?

What explains this sudden burst of interest in Parirenyatwa Hospital?

The answer may lie in the secretive and suspicious deal recently signed between the Zimbabwean government and Belarus, purportedly for the rehabilitation of the hospital.

As with many transactions under the Mnangagwa administration, this deal has been shrouded in opacity, with no disclosure to Parliament or the public, as required by law.

There has been no clarity on costs, scope of work, or contractors involved.

Such secrecy almost always signals corrupt intent—and history has proven us right time and time again.

More recently, reports have surfaced of an even murkier transaction: a US$439 million contract for the procurement of cancer equipment awarded to TTM Global Medical Exports, a South African company with no proven track record and a questionable address listed in a Sandton hotel suite.

The alleged frontman for this deal is none other than Wicknell Chivayo, a notorious tenderpreneur whose name has become synonymous with scandal in Zimbabwe.

According to information at hand, this massive deal was signed on behalf of the Government of Zimbabwe by Dr. Martin Rushwaya, Chief Secretary to the President and Cabinet.

It is to be funded by the new “sugar tax” introduced under Statutory Instrument 16 of 2024—a levy that was sold to the public as a necessary measure to fight cancer by purchasing life-saving treatment equipment.

Yet, just like the looted COVID-19 funds and the plundered Command Agriculture program, this money now appears to be yet another cash cow for politically-connected elites.

This contract did not go through any public tender process.

There is no evidence of competitive bidding or pricing.

The payment terms are opaque, lacking proper performance safeguards or mechanisms to ensure accountability.

The absence of transparency opens the door wide for abuse, inefficiency, and theft of public funds.

Even more damning, while this deal is celebrated as a “Presidential Scheme” by its beneficiaries, the reality on the ground in our hospitals paints a picture of betrayal.

Cancer patients are turned away daily due to lack of equipment.

Babies are dying in delivery rooms because there are no incubators.

Nurses ask patients to bring gloves, painkillers, and even cotton wool.

Radiotherapy machines are either obsolete or broken.

This is the healthcare system of a country whose government can spend nearly half a billion US dollars on shady cancer equipment contracts—but cannot afford to buy bandages or paracetamol.

It is not just about this one deal.

This is part of a larger pattern of looting and self-enrichment that has come to define the Mnangagwa administration.

We have seen an astonishing US$88 million allocated for a single traffic interchange—yet the structure itself does not reflect that cost, especially when compared to more advanced and sophisticated interchanges in other African countries that were constructed for significantly less.

We’ve seen R1.1 billion supposedly allocated for the procurement of election materials—yet, under unexplained circumstances, R800 million of that amount was transferred by South African company Ren-Form CC to Wicknell Chivayo, after receiving the funds from the Zimbabwean Treasury.

And let us not forget the infamous US$5 million advance payment made for a US$172 million solar project that was never built—yet the funds were fully disbursed despite zero delivery.

All of this is happening while Zimbabweans live in worsening poverty.

Our infrastructure is in ruins, our cities lack clean water, our power supply is erratic, and our youth are either unemployed or hooked on drugs out of hopelessness.

It is the citizens who are overtaxed, who endure brutal service delivery failures, and who suffer daily indignities—while the elite grow fatter from pilfering national resources.

We cannot remain silent.

The people of Zimbabwe deserve answers.

We need full disclosure of all public contracts, especially those worth hundreds of millions of dollars.

We demand parliamentary scrutiny, competitive bidding, and prosecution of those implicated in corrupt deals.

We must put an end to this parasitic governance system that sucks the life out of our nation.

Mnangagwa’s Parirenyatwa visit does not appear to mark a genuine turning point—it risks being seen as a public relations exercise aimed at legitimizing yet another questionable government deal.

Zimbabweans must not be fooled.

We deserve real leadership, not photo-ops and empty gestures.

We deserve hospitals that heal, not schemes that bleed us dry.

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