Tendai Ruben Mbofana
A few days ago, I received a heartbreaking message from a reader—one that left me both shattered and furious at the same time.
His wife travelled to her rural home to bury her brother—just seven months after the painful loss of her father.
On her way back from the funeral, tragedy struck again.
She was involved in a road traffic accident and suffered a fractured shoulder.
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Now, doctors at a provincial hospital have told the family that she needs urgent surgery, but they must first pay US$800 upfront before the operation can proceed.
The man is desperate.
He simply doesn’t have the money.
Even if they were to dip into their food budget, it would still not be enough.
His wife is in agony and at risk of permanent damage—or worse—yet all that stands between her and the treatment she urgently needs is a price tag far beyond her means.
This is the horrifying reality for millions of Zimbabweans today.
In a country where over 80% of the population live in poverty, and where more than 90% are not formally employed, health care has become a luxury reserved for the elite.
Falling sick is now a death sentence for the poor.
As we approach 18 April to mark 45 years of so-called independence, we must ask: where is this “freedom” we are supposed to be celebrating?
Where are the “fruits” of independence when ordinary citizens, who bore the brunt of colonial oppression and sacrificed so much, cannot even access basic health care?
In any normal country, public hospitals are meant to be the safety net for the most vulnerable in society.
They are supposed to offer accessible and affordable treatment, regardless of one’s economic station.
But in Zimbabwe, they have become places of despair, where the costs are so prohibitive that people are left with only two options: suffer in silence or die.
Let’s be honest—where is a family expected to get US$800 in a country where the average monthly salary is estimated to be less than US$200?
The reader who reached out to me is not alone.
This situation is tragically common.
A medical practitioner at a nearby public hospital confirmed to me that a shoulder operation indeed costs around that amount, largely because of the need to insert a metal plate or orthopedic implant to realign and stabilize the broken bone.
Yet the actual surgery is only a small part of the burden.
Due to massive shortages in public hospitals, patients are now forced to purchase nearly everything: from painkillers, antibiotics, and intravenous fluids to cotton wool, syringes, and even blood transfusions.
Many are forced to sleep on the floor or on bare mattresses, while relatives are expected to bring food from home.
With these endless out-of-pocket costs, it is no wonder that countless Zimbabweans are turning to so-called faith healers and traditional practitioners for help—most of whom offer false hope and fake miracles.
The result is often deadly.
These charlatans are thriving off the desperation of the masses, whose only crime is falling ill in a country where healthcare is no longer a right but a privilege.
This health crisis is not caused by a lack of resources.
Zimbabwe is richly endowed with mineral wealth—diamonds, gold, platinum, lithium—and enjoys significant agricultural earnings, with tobacco alone contributing over US$800 million in export revenue in 2023.
So why is our public health system in ruins?
Images of patients lying on the floor at a hospital in Marange—a region sitting atop some of the world’s most valuable diamond reserves—will haunt us forever.
The irony is sickening.
These minerals have built mansions and bought private jets for the politically connected, yet those whose land produces this wealth cannot even afford a hospital bed.
It is not that the government lacks money.
In fact, the state recently dished out R1.1 billion (about US$60 million) to a South African company, Ren-Form CC, for electoral materials—of which R800 million was reportedly funneled into the bank accounts of controversial businessman Wicknell Chivayo.
Analysts believe the actual cost of the materials was less than a third of that amount.
If our treasury can find such sums for shady deals, why can’t it invest in hospitals, medicine, and ambulances?
Other countries have shown it can be done.
In countries like Rwanda and Ghana, governments have implemented national health insurance schemes that guarantee basic medical care for even the poorest citizens.
In Botswana, public hospitals offer near-free services subsidized by the state.
If these countries can do it, why can’t Zimbabwe?
Our own Constitution, in Section 76, is clear: “Every citizen and permanent resident of Zimbabwe has the right to have access to basic healthcare services.”
It further stipulates that no one may be refused emergency medical treatment. But this is precisely what is happening across the country, every single day.
In Zimbabwe today, you can be denied life-saving surgery if you can’t pay upfront.
Cancer patients are dying because there are too few radiotherapy machines in the country—and even fewer that work.
Pregnant women are dying in labor due to a lack of emergency obstetric care.
People with diabetes or hypertension go untreated for months because they cannot afford medication.
So, what kind of nation are we building—one where a poor person’s life is worthless?
It is clear that our leaders have no intention of fixing this crisis.
After all, they themselves are immune from this broken system.
When they fall ill, they simply board a plane to South Africa, India, or the United Arab Emirates for treatment paid for by the state.
They will never lie on a hospital floor.
They will never be asked to bring their own cotton wool or to buy antibiotics from a pharmacy.
This is a country where the elite live in obscene opulence while the rest of us suffer and die in silence.
The looting of national resources has robbed Zimbabweans of their dignity, their rights, and their lives.
How long must this continue?
How many more wives, brothers, and children must be lost simply because they couldn’t afford to stay alive?
When will Zimbabweans say enough is enough?
When will we stop complaining on social media and finally take back our country from those who have hijacked it for their selfish ends?
Falling sick in Zimbabwe should not be a death sentence.
It is time for us to demand better.
We deserve a government that invests in its people, not one that squanders our wealth while ignoring our pain.
The cost of silence is death. And too many have already paid that price.
- 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/