Tendai Ruben Mbofana
The public meltdown and bitter recriminations currently rocketing through the Varakashi digital ecosystem provide a rare, unvarnished window into the true mechanics of state-sponsored praise-singing in Zimbabwe.
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For years, the official narrative has painted these online foot soldiers as fiercely loyal patriots, driven by pure ideological fervor and an unshakeable belief in the presidency.
However, the volcanic outrage triggered by tenderpreneur Paul Tungwarara’s selective distribution of USD 10,000 cash rewards to just eighteen individuals has completely shattered that myth.
It has exposed a stark, unsettling reality: the supposed digital defense of the regime has never been organic.
It is, and has always been, a purely transactional enterprise driven by the cold expectation of monetary reward.
A close reading of the social media rants, leaked messages, and furious tirades from those left out reveals that the root of their anger is not a sudden awakening to institutional discipline or transparency.
It is the raw, burning resentment of being overlooked at the feeding trough.
The overlooked activists are not angry that checkbook politics has infiltrated their movement; they are angry that the checkbook did not write their names.
In their desperation to validate their fury, many have spent the last forty-eight hours publicly tallying their sacrifices.
They are explicitly reminding Tungwarara and the party of the years they spent absorbing hostile digital fire.
They want credit for defending controversial policies like the Constitutional Amendment (No. 3) Bill, or CAB3, and protecting the primary political brand from opposition attacks.
By demanding to know the selection criteria and loudly broadcasting their own analytical “dashboards,” these disgruntled actors have inadvertently confessed their true motives.
They clearly viewed their compliance and digital thuggery as a billable service, and they are deeply offended that they were denied payment for work they felt they successfully delivered.
This spectacle paints a profoundly unsettling picture of modern political activism in Zimbabwe.
When the defense of a nation’s leadership is reduced to a competitive race for a benefactor’s favor, principle is entirely eradicated.
True support is faked, inspired entirely by the promise of the next payout.
This explains the recent phenomenon of a swelling bandwagon of online actors making louder, more aggressive noises in defense of power, often escalating to vile attacks and threats against anyone offering a dissenting view.
It is now undeniable that this escalation is not born of a genuine conviction that the president is doing an outstanding job, but rather a performative display designed to catch the eye of the next wealthy patron.
The defining characteristic of genuine conviction is that it does not carry a price tag.
Those who speak, write, or act out of a deep-seated belief in a cause do not do so with an invoice attached, nor do they collapse into bitter public tantrums when others are recognized or rewarded.
I, for instance, have for years been most consistent in my speaking out against injustice and corruption, and have of late been very vocal against attempts to amend the Constitution for the self-serving agenda of those in power.
Let us then say, someone comes along and gifts those he perceives as having stood out in fighting injustice, corruption, and CAB3 in Zimbabwe.
But in so doing, doesn’t include me.
Should I be offended and outraged?
In fact, if I am, what would that say about me and the genuineness of my advocacy?
Would that not expose me as someone who was making all this noise as a means to personal gain and reward?
As a matter of fact, many times Zimbabwean social justice advocates have been recognized both locally but especially internationally, and I have not been included.
But never have I been offended or exploded into a tirade and endless articles against the “awarders.”
The reason is that, as much as I would obviously appreciate recognition for my work and sacrifices, especially under this repressive and brutal regime, the greatest reward for my work is in giving oppressed Zimbabweans a voice.
I get rewarded each and every day through ordinary people who send me their prayers and words of gratitude and appreciation for speaking up for them.
I get inspiration when a pensioner thanks me for successfully pushing NSSA to pay him his monthly payout.
I feel fulfilled when residents meet me on the streets and appreciate how my engagement with the local authority got the roads fixed.
I am satisfied when ordinary citizens meet me in a supermarket and encourage me to keep writing.
I get my reward when citizens approach me to fight for their properties under threat from reckless mining operations.
I am encouraged by that pensioner who sends me $10 just to say thank you.
That is what keeps me going and gives me the strength to wake up every morning and write in defense of the people of Zimbabwe.
So, why would the Varakashi become so angry that only a handful were identified for $10,000 gifts?
If their defense for the president was genuine, they would not care who was rewarded or not.
They would keep quiet and continue with their cause.
Their inability to do so proves the mercenary nature of their loyalty.
What makes this transactional alliance truly tragic, however, is the profound cognitive dissonance at its core.
These online actors have weaponized their digital presence to defend an oppressive, predatory system that has authored the unimaginable poverty and economic misery of millions of their fellow citizens.
They willingly insulate the powerful, seemingly indifferent to the fact that their own relatives, neighbors, and loved ones are suffering under the weight of the very governance they praise.
Even more egregious is their total blindness to their own exploitation.
The bitter irony of the disgruntled Murakashi is that they do not realize the only reason they are desperate enough to sell their conscience and defend a repressive regime for a few pieces of silver.
It is precisely because the very politicians and tycoons they rabidly protect are the ones who plunged them into that state of poverty and desperation in the first place.
They are begging for crumbs from the table of the people who stole the bread.
Tungwarara’s payouts did not create this toxic dynamic; they merely turned on the lights in a dark room.
In doing so, they exposed a mercenary vanguard that has traded the future of Zimbabwe for a transaction that failed to clear.
- 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