Do those who accept “gifts” from Chivayo ever think how all this is going to end?

Tendai Ruben Mbofana

The Zimbabwean landscape has become a theater of the absurd, where the spectacle of “generosity” is performed against a backdrop of systemic decay. 

If you value my social justice advocacy and writing, please consider a financial contribution to keep it going. Contact me on WhatsApp: +263 715 667 700 or Email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com

At the center of this stage stands Wicknell Chivayo, a controversial tenderpreneur whose name has become synonymous with the murky intersection of public funds and private opulence. 

From luxury cars and thick stacks of cash to the recent pledge of a brand-new bus for the Dynamos Football Club, the “gifts” flow with a frantic pace, as if there is no tomorrow. 

But as the pile of beneficiaries grows, one must ask the haunting question: do those lining up to receive these offerings ever stop to consider how this entire house of cards is going to end?

It is no secret that the economic situation in Zimbabwe is dire. 

I feel it, as does every other Zimbabwean trying to navigate a landscape of vanishing opportunities. 

Those who know my personal life can attest to the struggle; I am not engaged in activities that afford me a decent livelihood. 

Even through my social justice advocacy, acting as a voice for the voiceless and intervening for communities facing injustice, I rely on the financial support of ordinary people who believe in my work.

Life is hard, especially for those of us who have chosen a path many consider risky. 

Yet, being broke is not an excuse for being unprincipled.

The irony of our national suffering is that it is exacerbated by the very class of tenderpreneurs who now play the role of “saviors.” 

We are witnessing a cycle where public resources are looted, and then a fraction of that loot is redistributed as “charity” to buy silence, loyalty, or public acclaim. 

These millions of dollars, frequently fingered in scandals involving suspicious flows from government contracts into private accounts, are the same funds that should have equipped our public health facilities. 

When we accept these gifts, are we not accepting items tainted with the blood of fellow Zimbabweans who have died due to a lack of basic medication, functional laundry machines, or lifesaving ambulances?

There is a gnawing, uneasy feeling that accompanies this culture of begging. 

We have watched in utter shock as people—some driven by genuine poverty, others by pure greed—actively pray for Chivayo’s attention. 

But we must remember the Shona adage: kudziya moto wembavha—to warm oneself by a thief’s fire is to invite the same judgment that awaits the thief. 

Common sense dictates that when the source of a gift is shrouded in questions of illegality and ethical compromise, caution is the only rational response. 

Principle must be the compass that guides us, even when our stomachs are empty. 

I trust in God Almighty to send the right people—those who genuinely believe in the work I do—to support me, rather than seeking the crumbs of a tainted feast.

The biblical parallels to this situation are stark and sobering. 

As a Christian, I find my inspiration in the Word, which teaches us that the first act of human sin was not murder or theft, but the acceptance of a “gift” from the devil. 

The forbidden fruit of the knowledge of good and evil was not even the serpent’s to give, yet through human lust and desire, he convinced Adam and Eve that this gift would elevate them. 

It was an act of disobedience masked as an opportunity for advancement. 

Today, we see the same scenario: disobedience to God manifesting as greed and the acceptance of things we were never supposed to have. 

Just as Adam and Eve fell with the snake, I fear that those accepting these gifts will inevitably fall when the inevitable reckoning comes for the provider.

Outside of the spiritual framing, there is the simple matter of the human conscience. 

Where is the joy in driving a luxury car when you know that the money used to purchase it could have saved lives at an underfunded hospital? 

How does one sleep at night knowing their voice has been effectively bought? 

To accept a gift from those contributing to national suffering is to surrender your right to speak against that suffering. 

You become an extension of the system you once decried.

We must look beyond the immediate glitter of the Toyota Fortuner or the shiny new bus. 

We must ask what the “endgame” looks like. 

History is littered with the names of flamboyant figures who thought they were untouchable, only for their empires to vanish overnight, dragging their associates down with them. 

When the music stops and the investigations eventually reach their logical conclusion, the “gift” will become a liability.

The desperation of our times is real, but our integrity must be more real. 

We cannot allow our needs to drive us into the arms of those who are looting our children’s futures. 

Before you reach out to take that cash or accept those keys, ask yourself: when the house of cards finally collapses, where will you be standing? 

In all likelihood, the ending will not be pretty. 

It is better to struggle in dignity than to fall in disgrace.

• 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