Imagine a once-mighty liberation party reduced to a glorified marketplace, where influence isn't earned through sacrifice and ideals, but bought with cold, hard cash—this is the shocking reality of ZANU-PF in Zimbabwe today.
Tendai Ruben Mbofana
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What started as a beacon of hope for a nation fighting for freedom has morphed into something unrecognizably different. Gone are the days when ZANU-PF stood for the dreams and struggles of everyday Zimbabweans; now, it twists and turns to suit the fancy of the wealthy elite. Its political path no longer mirrors a structured, principled force rooted in ideology, but more closely resembles a bustling auction house, where the highest bidder wins. And this is the part most people miss: the party that fought for independence from colonial rule has traded its revolutionary soul for a seat at the table of the rich and powerful.
In today's Zimbabwe, political decisions aren't driven by seasoned veterans who bled for the cause, nor by talented individuals with clear visions or proven skills. Instead, they hinge on those with the fattest wallets and the tightest connections to the president. It's a stark shift that leaves many wondering: how did we get here?
But here's where it gets controversial: the emergence of so-called 'tenderpreneurs' like Kudakwashe Tagwirei, Wicknell Chivayo, and Paul Tungwarara lays bare an unsettling fact—that ZANU-PF is up for grabs, its core hollowed out and controlled by affluent players who trade money for power, status, and safeguards.
Take Kudakwashe Tagwirei as the prime example. He didn't climb the ranks through local party work, community activism, or years of dedicated service. Instead, his clout stems from a fortune cleverly invested in building alliances and gaining entry. Through a tangled network of government deals, mining ventures, and dominance in vital areas like fuel, farming, and currency exchange, Tagwirei made himself essential to top party leaders and regional groups. For beginners trying to grasp this, think of it like a business tycoon who doesn't run for office but pulls strings from behind the scenes, using his resources to dictate outcomes.
He didn't just amass wealth; he weaponized it to purchase devotion within the party. In 2025, he splashed out on buying hundreds of vehicles for ZANU-PF's Central Committee and other branches—a move so extravagant it stirred internal uproar and led to new rules on how donations can be handled. Critics saw this as a calculated ploy to win over supporters and secure his political footing. The regional committees that got his handouts played a key role in pushing for his appointment to the Central Committee, showing how financial support can be parlayed into official positions. Those who profited from his generosity naturally backed his ascent, embedding his sway even before he officially took a role.
In essence, Tagwirei became a behind-the-scenes emperor of Zimbabwe's economy, wielding immense power without ever being elected. His authority is purely transactional, fueled by deals in the presidential palace, where access to the leader and funding for party activities are the real currencies of the realm. For someone with zero documented leadership experience in ZANU-PF to be floated as a future president highlights a troubling trend: political credibility is now a commodity, traded for cash rather than hard-earned respect or visionary ideas. The party judges leaders not by their track record, dedication, or foresight, but by the size of their bank accounts. In this twisted setup, financial strength is confused with real authority, and riches pave the quickest path to the top.
Wicknell Chivayo's rapid rise echoes the same pattern. His success wasn't built on effective leadership, skilled administration, or meaningful contributions to the country. Rather, it's a tale of privilege: cozying up to the president's inner circle, flattering key family members, and deploying wealth—or the appearance of it—as a barrier against scrutiny. Even though the Zimbabwe Anti-Corruption Commission (ZACC) recently stated they found no proof tying him to the $100 million Zimbabwe Electoral Commission procurement scandal, the public smells something off. Investigations often fizzle out not due to innocence, but because in Zimbabwe's landscape, deep pockets can silence critics, provide cover, and guarantee acquittals. For those new to this, imagine a world where money buys not just luxuries, but immunity from accountability—it's like having a get-out-of-jail-free card in a game rigged by the wealthy.
Chivayo's flashy social media stunts and generous donations to musicians and church groups linked to ZANU-PF aren't mere kindness; they're smart investments. He aims to gain sway, ensure loyalty, and protect his interests. He's not a formal political figure, yet he commands influence that many elected officials envy. He's not in office, but he operates with a freedom that ministers can only dream of. This isn't traditional politics; it's an amplified version of favoritism, where personal ties and cash dominate.
Paul Tungwarara offers yet another glimpse into how widespread the decay has become. His tight bond with President Mnangagwa, involvement in shady procurement agreements, and absence from official ZANU-PF roles mirror the recurring theme: wealth unlocks doors, creates authority, and overrides established systems. He's long been a key player in the party's 'empowerment' initiatives, directing funds and favors to strengthen bonds and secure power. His short-lived bid to join the Central Committee, which was blocked by the Political Commissar due to technicalities, illustrates how rules often take a backseat to wealth, connections, and presidential access.
These individuals don't participate in local meetings, grassroots efforts, or campaign work for the party. They pay their way in, secure leverage, and in exchange, get free rein over government bodies. They lack liberation-era credentials, ideological grounding, or records of public service—yet they enjoy more presidential access than lifelong party members who risked everything. If this doesn't scream capture by outside forces, what does?
Today's ZANU-PF isn't steered by liberation principles, Pan-African values, or fundamental political ethics. It's evolved into a property auctioned to the wealthiest suitors. The freedom fighters have been overshadowed by those who purchased their influence. The revolutionary spirit, if it was ever more than talk, has been handed over to businessmen whose main offering is financial might. The party functions more like a private enterprise, where government contracts, deals, and resource access are handed out based on personal allegiance and economic value, not fair processes.
Its leadership cadre isn't molded by ideological seminars or practical experience anymore; it's determined by who can foot the bill for campaigns, fuel fleets, purchase vehicles, or back events. Affluent entrepreneurs have supplanted political educators; 'investors' have replaced dedicated activists; tenderpreneurs have taken the place of true revolutionaries.
This overhaul uncovers a chilling reality: ZANU-PF no longer represents its members, its elders, or the people it fought to free. It's owned by the 'Zvigananda'—the moguls who bankroll its operations, back its cliques, and fund its in-house conflicts. The party has shed its identity as a movement; it's now just an asset, ripe for acquisition. And like any commodity, it's available to whoever has the price.
And this is the part that sparks real debate: if someone like me suddenly struck it rich with enormous wealth, what could prevent me from purchasing clout, receiving accolades, being whisked into ZANU-PF's exclusive realm, and hailed as the next big thing? Leadership isn't cultivated anymore; it's acquired. Qualifications don't count; networks do. Ideology doesn't drive decisions; money does.
The consequences for Zimbabwe are deeply alarming. A party that once spoke for the common folk has completely disconnected from them. Everyday supporters, countryside voters, war veterans, and committed long-term members have been eclipsed by these businessmen, who show no regard for independence tales or progress for the nation. Their focus is pure gain: profits from mines, public bids, state agreements, and closeness to authority.
Since they align with other powerful figures in governance, they create a self-perpetuating clique that keeps the country mired in ongoing stagnation. Policies aren't designed for the country's welfare; they're crafted to safeguard business empires. Legislation isn't made to uplift citizens; it's customized to protect influential backers. National assets aren't overseen for collective benefit; they're hoarded for the advantage of a select, connected group.
ZANU-PF's takeover by financial magnates serves as ultimate evidence that the liberation drive has perished. What's left is merely the exterior—a propaganda tool running on memories, dread, and icons. But beneath that facade, the real puppeteers are deep-pocketed tenderpreneurs with grand designs.
This is a party that's purchasable, malleable, controllable, and swayable by any individual with sufficient funds. And that ought to frighten every Zimbabwean, because a sellable party will always favor the payers over the populace.
To restore any semblance of honor, democracy, or progress in Zimbabwe, the nation must squarely address this harsh truth: the dominant party has ceased to be a political entity and transformed into a commercial bazaar. As long as economic interests dictate national strategies instead of citizen voices, Zimbabwe will be stuck in a loop of exploitative governance, where the affluent dominate, the linked thrive, and the masses endure hardship.
What do you think? Is this commodification of politics inevitable in any ruling party, or is it unique to ZANU-PF? Do you believe wealth should influence leadership selection, or does it undermine true democracy? Share your thoughts in the comments—let's discuss!
- 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/
Post published in: Featured (https://www.thezimbabwean.co/category/featured/)
