Something’s been catching my attention lately. Every time ZESA kills our electricity, I notice a pattern.

My younger brother and his friends pull out their phones the moment lights go out. They’re not checking Facebook or playing Candy Crush. They’re gambling on crash games—not football betting like everyone used to be obsessed with.

These games show numbers climbing from 1.0x upward, and you decide when to cash out. Do you grab your money at 1.87x or hold your breath and pray it reaches 3.2x before it crashes? Last Tuesday I watched my brother play aviator bet for 47 minutes during a blackout. He made $23 profit off his original $10, then lost $15 back the next afternoon.

The Appeal Makes Sense When You Think About It

I talked to regular players to understand why this gambling type has blown up among people aged 18 to 29 in Harare and Bulawayo.

You don’t need to know sports statistics or which teams are in form. Zero studying required. Just fast fingers and luck. Each round is super short—sometimes 2 seconds, sometimes 90 seconds if you’re lucky. Compare that to sitting through an entire 90-minute football match while your money hangs in limbo.

My cousin Janet, 24, works retail. She explained: “I can play during lunch break, win or lose, and get back to work. I’m not sitting there stressed about some match happening in England at 9pm.”

But Here’s Where I Get Concerned

The speed is legitimately addictive. You can finish 40 complete rounds while drinking one Coke. Your money disappears so fast you barely register what’s happening. I watched one guy blow through $50 in about 11 minutes. After every loss he kept muttering “just one more round.”

There’s basically no visible regulation happening with these games. Our economy’s already a mess without piling gambling addiction problems on top, but I don’t see anyone tracking this trend or building support systems for folks who spiral too deep.

The marketing is everywhere on social media—flashy videos showing massive wins, people celebrating, money raining. You know what they never show? The fact that most sessions end with losses.

Real Stories From Real People

Met a guy named Tendai at a coffee shop in Avondale. He’s 27, does IT work. Started playing these crash games in January, and by March he’d lost roughly $340—more than most Zimbabweans earn in an entire month. He quit after that, which took serious willpower. But the urge to play again hits him hard every time he scrolls past an ad or hears friends bragging about wins.

Flip side: I know a woman who plays with iron discipline. She budgets exactly $20 monthly, treating it like entertainment money for movies or drinks. When that $20 disappears, she stops completely until next month. Been doing this for 6 months straight without breaking her rule once. That’s rare though.

We need honest conversations about this situation. Not fake outraged panic, but actual real discussions about risks and responsible gambling for those who’ll do it anyway. Pretending this trend doesn’t exist won’t make it disappear.

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