Tendai Ruben Mbofana
The narrative that Africa’s current socio-economic paralysis and deep-seated inequalities are merely the residual scars of European colonial conquest has become a convenient, comforting myth.
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It is a shield used by contemporary ruling elites to deflect accountability, and a crutch for a society reluctant to confront its own historical flaws.
For decades, the prevailing discourse in Zimbabwe and across the continent has conditioned us to believe that before the standard of the British South Africa Company was raised, or before the Berlin Conference carved up the land, our societies existed in a state of unblemished harmony, egalitarianism, and communal bliss.
This romanticized view of history is not only factually inaccurate, but it also actively cripples our ability to solve the governance crises of today.
To truly understand the suffering of the ordinary citizenry, both during the colonial era and in our current post-independence reality, we must have the courage to expose a painful truth: the structural subjugation, economic exploitation, and political marginalization of the masses were firmly entrenched long before the first white settler set foot on our soil.
To claim that colonialism introduced inequality to Zimbabwe is to completely erase the complex, highly stratified realities of our pre-colonial empires.
The magnificent drystone walls of Great Zimbabwe, Khami, and Danamombe stand today as monuments to incredible architectural and engineering genius, but they also serve as stark, undeniable evidence of an entrenched class system.
The ruling elites and the royal dynasties lived in absolute luxury atop these hills, surrounded by immense wealth measured in thousands of cattle and imported treasures like Chinese porcelain and Indian glass beads.
Meanwhile, the ordinary peasantry—the forgotten backbone of these empires—toiled in the valleys below, living in mud-and-thatch huts and bearing the heavy burden of sustaining the aristocracy.
This was not a system of shared wealth.
It was a well-oiled machine of economic extraction where the common people were forced to pay heavy tribute in the form of grain, livestock, gold, and ivory just to secure the favor of the monarch.
Failure to comply did not result in a gentle reprimand; it meant the brutal confiscation of assets, destruction of livelihoods, or physical elimination.
The subjugation of the ordinary person by those in power is an indigenous tradition, not an imported western concept.
Even the horrors of the slave trade were fueled by powerful African kingdoms enslaving their own continental peers for profit.
When the white man arrived on the coast, he did not invent captivity; he merely took advantage of, and commercialized, an exploitative system that we had already created.
Furthermore, the romantic concept of pre-colonial peace ignores the brutal nature of state-building, military expansion, and inter-ethnic conflict that characterized our past.
The transition from the Mutapa Empire to the Rozvi State, and the later 19th-century migration of the Ndebele under Mzilikazi, were defined by military conquest, displacement, and systemic raiding.
The Ndebele state operated on a highly centralized, militarized regimental system where cattle and grain were routinely seized from surrounding Shona communities through violent raids.
Entire populations were subjugated and forced into lower social tiers within the kingdom, creating a multi-tiered society where one’s ethnic background and proximity to military power determined their worth and security.
When European colonizers arrived, they did not invent the concept of divide-and-rule, nor did they introduce the concept of using brute force to dominate a population.
They merely hijacked, modernized, and intensified oppressive tools that were already scattered across the political landscape.
Treating colonialism as the sole origin of all human suffering in Africa is a dangerous form of historical amnesia.
When we pretend that our ancestors knew no injustice until 1890, we create a false baseline for what independence should look like.
We trick ourselves into believing that simply removing the foreign oppressor would automatically result in justice, fairness, and equality.
By refusing to acknowledge that tyranny and exploitation are home-grown human flaws rather than uniquely European traits, we have allowed our post-independence leaders to inherit the very same oppressive thrones of both the colonial governors and the pre-colonial kings.
Today, ordinary Zimbabweans look at their leaders and see the exact same patterns of behavior that burdened their ancestors centuries ago.
We see a tiny, predatory ruling class hoarding national resources, flaunting immense wealth, and living in gated fortresses, while the masses are told to endure poverty as a badge of patriotic resilience.
When citizens complain about poor governance, collapsing infrastructure, or human rights abuses, the state immediately points an accusing finger at the ghost of colonialism, using the trauma of the past to sanitize the corruption of the present.
It is time to end this lazy, regressive habit of making excuses for our own failures.
The stagnation of our nation today is not the fault of Cecil John Rhodes; it is the fault of a contemporary leadership that chooses to mimic the worst traits of both our colonial and pre-colonial oppressors.
We cannot build a prosperous, democratic future on a foundation of historical lies.
Exposing the pre-colonial roots of inequality is not an act of betrayal; it is an act of liberation.
It forces us to realize that the struggle for true human dignity is not a racial war against foreign invaders, but a perpetual battle against the abuse of power by whoever holds it.
Until we stop using colonialism as an all-purpose alibi for bad governance, we will remain trapped in a cycle of suffering, forever ruled by elites who use the pain of yesterday to justify the injustices of today.
As much as it is paramount to look back into our history to understand the present, the ultimate question remains: how far back are we truly prepared to look?
If we only look back far enough to find a foreign scapegoat, then we are not seeking historical truth—we are merely seeking an excuse.
- Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. To directly receive his articles please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08