Why Zimbabwe now needs its own Zondo Commission!

Calls for a Zimbabwean-style Zondo Commission are no longer far-fetched fantasies of the politically disgruntled—they are now a legitimate and necessary proposal in a country where state capture has become systemic.

For too long, a coterie of politically connected individuals, commonly referred to by ordinary Zimbabweans as “Zvigananda,” have risen to unimaginable wealth and influence through opaque state tenders, illicit access to public funds, and unchecked influence over government appointments and institutions.

They are now alleged to wield more influence than ministers, with some even reported to take part in high-level meetings to discuss cabinet reshuffles and key state appointments.

These actors have captured not just the state, but the soul of the nation.

Recent revelations surrounding controversial businessman Wicknell Chivayo provide a chilling window into this endemic rot.

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According to a forensic analysis conducted by South Africa’s Financial Intelligence Centre (FIC), Zimbabwe’s Ministry of Finance transferred over R1.1 billion (about US$61 million) to a South African company for the supply of electoral materials, and more than R800 million of that ended up in accounts owned by Chivayo.

These transactions, marked by luxury purchases, large unexplained outflows, and suspicious round-figure payments, have now attracted the scrutiny of the South African Revenue Service and the South African Police Service.

The payments, which include over R36 million used for personal car purchases and millions more funneled through various shell companies, point to a grand operation in which public funds are siphoned off under the guise of national procurement.

And yet, this case is not an isolated incident.

It is symptomatic of a broader malaise in Zimbabwe’s political economy, where public tenders are often handed out without competitive bidding, and contracts are grossly inflated to accommodate “commissions” that eventually enrich politically connected businessmen.

These individuals frequently enjoy immunity from investigation, let alone prosecution, thanks to their proximity to power.

In some cases, they reportedly influence key state appointments and the dismissal of senior government officials through closed-door meetings with the country’s leadership.

This is not mere speculation; it is echoed in whispers across the corridors of government offices and confirmed by numerous investigative reports.

The judiciary and other state institutions, supposedly pillars of accountability, have not been spared.

There are growing concerns that some rulings and law enforcement decisions are increasingly shaped not by the law, but by the interests of these elites.

Justice in Zimbabwe has become selective, targeting the politically weak while shielding the powerful.

The consequences for public trust are devastating.

Citizens no longer believe the courts, police, or anti-corruption agencies can deliver justice.

The Zimbabwe Anti-Corruption Commission, once hailed as a potential game changer, appears either unwilling or unable to act decisively in the face of such blatant corruption.

Cases are opened with fanfare and abandoned in silence.

But the rot runs deeper.

State capture in Zimbabwe is not confined to public tenders and state appointments.

It extends into the very soil of the country—its minerals, particularly gold.

Allegations have emerged that the awarding of gold buying licenses and exclusive selling contracts has been politicized, with individuals linked to the ruling elite being granted monopolistic powers over strategic national resources.

This has created a parallel economy, where billions of dollars in gold revenue disappear before ever reaching the national treasury.

One controversial figure has been accused of controlling vast sections of Zimbabwe’s gold trade, operating with minimal oversight and immense political backing.

In a country where hospitals go without drugs and schools lack textbooks, such open capture of the gold sector is not only immoral—it is criminal.

Worse still, it contributes to massive illicit financial flows, as large quantities of Zimbabwe’s gold are reportedly smuggled out of the country or undervalued, enriching a few at the expense of the nation.

Similarly, powerful individuals have been awarded control over key state assets, including prominent financial institutions such as CBZ and ZB Bank.

The Mutapa Investment Fund, shrouded in opacity and removed from the Ministry of Finance’s and parliamentary oversight, now plays a central role in managing significant national assets.

This lack of transparency in its operations raises concerns that valuable state resources may fall into the hands of a select few, further entrenching the power and influence of politically connected elites, while undermining the potential for public accountability and equitable distribution of wealth.

Reports have also alleged that such questionable dealings are not a result of business acumen but a by-product of political patronage, where loyalty to those in power is rewarded with access to lucrative national resources.

These contracts are often handed out behind closed doors, without competitive bidding or parliamentary scrutiny.

The Zimbabwean people are never consulted, even though these are public assets.

Reports have also suggested that some of the proceeds from this gold and fuel are used to bankroll political campaigns and patronage networks, creating a vicious cycle in which economic power fuels political power, and vice versa.

The Zimbabwe Anti-Corruption Commission, the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe, and the police have all been conspicuously silent in the face of mounting evidence.

This pattern of impunity is not sustainable.

The damage it is doing to Zimbabwe’s democracy, economy, and social fabric is immense.

It is not just about money lost—it is about opportunities squandered, lives compromised, and a future mortgaged to corruption.

When those with no proven track record in business or governance become overnight billionaires while the majority of citizens wallow in poverty, the social contract between the state and its people is irreparably broken.

It is time for Zimbabwe to begin an honest reckoning.

The model of a commission of inquiry, similar to South Africa’s Zondo Commission, offers a possible path.

Though not without its flaws, the Zondo Commission managed to unearth staggering levels of corruption, name those responsible, and recommend criminal charges against some of the most powerful individuals in the land.

Importantly, it provided the South African public with a documented narrative of how their country was looted and by whom.

Zimbabwe needs nothing less.

A Zondo-style commission in Zimbabwe could be a game-changer.

It would offer a platform for whistleblowers and victims of corruption to testify publicly.

It would expose the mechanics of state capture—how tenders are manipulated, how government appointments are decided, how money is laundered, and how the justice system is compromised.

It would also recommend legal reforms, institutional restructuring, and, most importantly, prosecution of those found to have abused public office.

A Zimbabwean-style commission would need the independence, legal mandate, and protection to summon witnesses, subpoena documents, and refer cases for prosecution.

But more critically, it must be insulated from political interference and have a clear mechanism to follow up on its findings.

It cannot be just another whitewashed process to pacify public anger or settle political scores.

It must aim to cleanse the rot and lay a foundation for a truly accountable, transparent government.

The alternative is a slow national decay, where the line between state and cartel becomes so blurred that reform becomes impossible.

Yes, there will be resistance.

Those with the most to lose will fight back.

The political elite will argue that such a commission is unnecessary, expensive, or even treasonous.

But these are the same arguments made in South Africa before the Zondo Commission began its work.

And while South Africa still struggles with corruption, the commission fundamentally altered the nation’s political culture—it created space for public accountability, emboldened civil society, and restored some measure of faith in the possibility of justice.

For Zimbabwe, the stakes are even higher.

Without a thorough and public investigation into state capture, the country will remain hostage to a corrupt elite.

Elections will continue to be manipulated, public funds will continue to vanish, and the average Zimbabwean will continue to suffer.

This is not just about exposing criminals; it is about rebuilding a nation from the inside out.

Zimbabwe still has a chance to reclaim its institutions and dignity—but only if it confronts its demons head-on.

A commission of inquiry is not a silver bullet, but it is a starting point.

The question is no longer whether Zimbabwe can afford such an investigation, but whether it can afford not to.

• Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to WhatsApp or Call: +263715667700 | +263782283975, or email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com, or visit website: https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/