Tendai Ruben Mbofana
He challenged leaders at all levels to remember that political office is meant for serving the people, not personal glory.
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He urged party structures to deepen their understanding of the party constitution and foundational revolutionary ideology rather than self-interest.
Most tellingly, he paid tribute to the sacrifice of the seven liberation war heroes who fought the historic 1966 Battle of Chinhoyi.
He stated that their bravery should serve as the modern catalyst for driving sustainable economic development and defending national sovereignty.
Yet in these grand words lies a painful irony that no one can ignore.
ZANU-PF is no longer a revolutionary movement.
It is no longer the liberation struggle of Herbert Chitepo, Josiah Tongogara, and Leopold Takawira.
The party today stands as a sad, pale shadow of its former self.
It is unidentifiable from the movement of young men and women whose heroic fight against colonial rule filled my childhood stories.
My father brought me up in the 1970s fully engaged with the liberation struggle.
Although he was a trained teacher, the colonial regime blacklisted him for his anti-colonial activities.
A significant part of mobilizing young boys and girls was done by teachers in their classrooms.
These educators enlightened young people on the evils of racial segregation.
They encouraged them to leave everything behind and cross the borders into Mozambique, Botswana, and Zambia for military training.
As a result, teachers were watched very closely.
During my early childhood, my father was no longer permitted to teach.
He took small jobs here and there while my mother, a nurse, became the primary breadwinner.
Still, he never stopped mobilizing the local community.
In our home, he focused on me.
He passionately educated me on the liberation struggle and the values of justice.
Each night, we quietly gathered around our radio to listen to the Voice of Zimbabwe broadcast from Mozambique through Radio Maputo.
I listened to the exploits of our brave sons and daughters and absorbed inspirational words of an impending freedom.
April 17, 1980 remains etched in my mind.
Euphoria engulfed our home and community.
My father traveled to Salisbury for the main independence celebrations.
I remember those days so fondly.
We bonded over issues of social justice, freedom, and human rights.
My father effectively created the social justice advocate I am today.
That is where everything becomes deeply painful.
I was taught social justice by ZANU-PF.
My heart was once deeply attached to the party I loved so dearly in the 1970s.
I loved its Chimurenga songs and sang them with my father.
I remember the excitement when Cde Chinx and the ZANU-PF Choir visited our hometown of Redcliff just after independence and stayed at our house.
I heard those deeply ingrained songs firsthand.
Then something terrible happened.
ZANU-PF ceased being a liberation movement.
It transformed into a criminal cartel of self-serving leaders interested only in their own privilege and aggrandizement.
They no longer cared about the people they claimed to liberate.
It was all a hoax.
My father was shattered, and so was I.
The ruling elite looted state-owned enterprises like Ziscosteel, the former pride of Zimbabwe, until it became an empty shell and a home for baboons.
The national rail company is on its knees.
Urban transport no longer exists.
Towns go for years without running water, and roads are riddled with dangerous potholes.
Public hospitals are underfunded and lack essential medication, leading to thousands of needless deaths.
Our schools have no books, and rural children still learn under trees.
Over 85 percent of the population lives in poverty, with 50 percent in extreme poverty.
Yet right now, luxury cars line the conference venue in Chinhoyi.
Data from the World Inequality Database shows that just 0.1 percent of the population controls more wealth than the bottom 80 percent combined.
Zimbabwe ranks 12th globally in extreme wealth consolidation.
Most of these wealthy individuals do not produce anything or employ anyone.
They accumulate riches through gold smuggling, illicit mineral extraction, and inflated state tenders.
Zimbabwe has been turned into a crime scene.
However, there is one question that bothers me more than any other.
Why have ordinary ZANU-PF supporters allowed their party to be turned into an anti-people criminal enterprise?
This question becomes even more urgent when we consider that the vast majority of ZANU-PF supporters are themselves victims of their leaders’ looting.
Most of those attending the conference in Chinhoyi traveled by bus and struggle to make ends meet through vending.
Yet those they have come to cheer arrived by helicopter and travel abroad on private jets.
Ordinary ZANU-PF supporters are the ones failing to send their children to decent schools and unable to afford proper medical treatment.
Meanwhile, the children of those they have traveled to sing praises for attend exclusive schools and access medical treatment overseas.
These grassroots supporters must cheer for food handouts and so-called empowerment projects that amount to nothing more than street vending.
Do these ZANU-PF supporters see this as normal?
Do they see fetching water at communal boreholes as enjoying the fruits of independence?
Do they see this as the freedom and justice that ZANU-PF fought for?
It is a pity my father passed away twenty-six years ago.
But the brave man who faced colonial blacklisting for his beliefs on freedom and justice would never have tolerated this nonsense.
So I ask again: why are ZANU-PF supporters allowing this to happen?
- Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to contact him on +263715667700 or mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com