https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/2025/05/18/chivayo-boasts-about-being-a-chigananda-because-he-knows-were-cowards-who-will-do-nothing/ *_PLEASE SHARE_* *Chivayo boasts about being a Chigananda because he knows we’re cowards who will do nothing* _BY Tendai Ruben Mbofana_ *IT can be so embarrassing to be a Zimbabwean.* Wicknell Chivayo’s brazen public declaration, on X (formerly Twitter), of being a “very corrupt businessman and tenderpreneur” is not merely a scandalous self-indictment—it’s a chilling reflection of how low we have sunk as a society. That a man previously convicted of fraud, and implicated in numerous multi-million-dollar corruption scandals, can publicly boast about looting public resources without fear or shame shows just how broken our country’s moral compass has become. It also reveals something far more disturbing: he knows we, the people of Zimbabwe, will do absolutely nothing. *_To directly receive articles from Tendai Ruben Mbofana, please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08_* This is no idle insult. Chivayo’s record speaks for itself. He is at the center of several serious corruption scandals, some with regional and international implications. South African law enforcement authorities recently exposed that Chivayo received a staggering R800 million from Johannesburg-based Ren-Form CC, a company awarded a suspicious R1.1 billion tender by Zimbabwe’s Treasury, ostensibly for the procurement of election materials. Yet no one in Zimbabwe’s government has ever demanded accountability for this massive payout. Investigations revealed that much of this money funded Chivayo’s opulent lifestyle—including a fleet of luxury cars and five-star jet-set living. He even flaunted his intentions to purchase a Bombardier Global 5500 private jet, worth over US$51 million, as if to taunt the millions of Zimbabweans barely surviving in a crumbling economy. Chivayo is also deeply entangled in the long-standing Zimbabwe Electricity Supply Authority (ZESA) corruption scandal, in which he was controversially awarded a US$5 million advance for the construction of a 100MW solar power plant in Gwanda. To this day, there is no solar plant to speak of—just an empty field. Years have passed and not a single watt has been generated, yet there has been no official investigation, no public outcry, and no consequences. And this is not all. His name continues to feature in several other questionable public tenders, always involving astronomical figures, and all awarded without transparency. Yet, as hospitals across Zimbabwe run out of basic medications, dialysis and cancer treatment machines remain broken, and ambulances lie idle or are non-existent, no one in authority dares to speak his name in condemnation. Meanwhile, schools—especially in rural areas—look like relics from the 1800s. Children are still learning under trees or inside makeshift pole-and-dagga classrooms, with barely any chairs, desks, or books. In urban areas, power cuts have returned with a vengeance because our antiquated power plants are not being upgraded or replaced. Yet the country has been losing billions of dollars annually to corruption, much of it facilitated through the very same kinds of questionable deals that have enriched Chivayo. Still, this man is not only walking free—he is celebrated. He enjoys unfettered access to the President of Zimbabwe, frequently appears at State House, and is even included in official state visits and functions. In a shocking betrayal of the public trust, a convicted criminal, who has defrauded the nation and looted its future, has effectively become part of the political establishment. Instead of being investigated or tried, he is rewarded with proximity to power. This is precisely why Wicknell Chivayo can boast, without shame or hesitation, about being a “chigananda.” He knows he is untouchable. He knows that the very people he is fleecing are too afraid, too demoralized, or too distracted to mount any real resistance. He knows that no Zimbabwean official will dare challenge him—not the Zimbabwe Anti-Corruption Commission (ZACC), not the judiciary, not the police, and certainly not the ruling party. In fact, those in power appear to enable him. But here is what frightens me more than Chivayo’s audacity: our silence. What about us, the citizens? Why are we behaving as though this is normal? Why are we not in the streets, demanding answers, justice, and change? After all, it is our lives that are being destroyed by this corruption. While Chivayo boasts about taking off in his private jet to Mozambique for a seafood lunch, our mothers are dying in maternity wards due to the absence of gloves, oxygen tanks, or skilled staff. While he flaunts his Rolls Royce V12 and electric cars, our children trudge to dilapidated schools without textbooks or proper classrooms, their futures stolen before they’ve even begun. And, truly, on what roads does he “drive off at high speed,” when those very roads are now treacherous death traps, with potholes deep enough to swallow entire vehicles—roads that should have been fixed using the money stolen by the “Zvigananda”? Why do we tolerate this? Is it cowardice? Apathy? Or have we been so traumatized and brutalized by decades of repression that we’ve accepted our suffering as inevitable? In other countries, citizens have shown that pressure from below can force change. In Romania, 2017, when the government attempted to decriminalize certain forms of corruption, over 600,000 people took to the streets in protest. The decree was reversed. In Brazil, a massive anti-corruption investigation known as “Operation Car Wash,” launched in part due to intense public pressure, exposed a vast network of bribery involving the state oil company Petrobras and numerous political and business elites. The scandal led to the imprisonment of top politicians and executives, including president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, who was convicted and jailed—though his convictions were later overturned by the Supreme Court on procedural grounds. In South Korea, millions of citizens staged peaceful protests demanding the impeachment of President Park Geun-hye over corruption allegations. The National Assembly voted to impeach her in December 2016, and the Constitutional Court upheld the decision in March 2017, leading to her removal from office. Park was subsequently arrested, tried, and sentenced to 24 years in prison for abuse of power and coercion. These examples show us what is possible when citizens find their voice and demand justice. But here in Zimbabwe, our silence is damning. We tweet. We write. We whisper. We gossip. But we do not act. And this is exactly what Chivayo is counting on. This is why he laughs in our faces, calling himself corrupt while flaunting his ill-gotten wealth. Because we’ve let him believe that there are no consequences. That we are too scared. That we are too divided, too hungry, or too distracted to resist. Meanwhile, Zimbabwe continues its descent into lawlessness. The latest Transparency International Corruption Perception Index ranked Zimbabwe as the most corrupt country in Southern Africa, with a 2024 score of just 21 out of 100. An estimated US$3 billion is lost annually to illicit financial flows, mineral smuggling, and corrupt deals—money that could transform this country into a beacon of progress and dignity. ZACC, the body supposedly responsible for tackling corruption, has become a toothless watchdog. While small-time offenders are paraded for public show, the real looters remain insulated by political connections. This is the rot that Chivayo thrives in—a system where thieves are kings and citizens are spectators in their own destruction. Let us be clear: the Chivayos of Zimbabwe will not suddenly repent and return what they’ve stolen. They will not stop unless they are made to. And that duty falls on us—the suffering, overburdened citizens of this great nation. We must move beyond private outrage and social media complaints. We must organize. We must protest. We must demand accountability in every forum available to us. Because if we don’t, then we have no one to blame but ourselves when the next Chivayo tells us, with a smile and a shrug, that he is a proud “chigananda”—and we all just look away. *_● Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to WhatsApp or Call: +263715667700 | +263782283975, or email: [email protected], or visit website: https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/_*