Where have all the men in Zimbabwe gone – while our families are under attack by a ruthless regime?

Where have all the men in Zimbabwe gone?

This is not a rhetorical question.

It is not a mere provocation for effect.

It is a deeply unsettling question that we, as Zimbabwean men, need to seriously confront.

Where are the men who were once pillars of their families, the brave defenders of their households, and the unyielding voices of reason and resistance against injustice and suffering?

In our African culture, men have always been expected to provide for and protect their families—not just from physical harm, but also from the existential threats of hunger, poverty, exploitation, and oppression.

Yet, in today’s Zimbabwe, we have become bystanders, helplessly watching the very things we are supposed to shield our families from overwhelm and crush them.

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We have somehow abdicated our traditional role of protector and provider.

In the face of the horrific and sustained depreciation of living standards, the question must be asked: where are the men?

As the Zimbabwean economy continues to collapse under the weight of looting, corruption, and mismanagement by a predatory elite, our families are being pushed to the brink of survival.

Breadwinners have become bread-seekers, as each day is a struggle to afford even the barest necessities.

And still, the men are silent.

We are nowhere to be found.

We have retreated into our shells, excusing our inaction with economic hardship and political fear, while the lives of our families are under direct attack from the very people entrusted with national leadership.

How do we call ourselves men when our children can no longer attend quality schools because most public institutions have become hollow shells, with neither adequate teaching material nor motivated, well-paid staff?

How can we sleep at night when our wives, mothers, and children are dying from preventable diseases in hospitals that have no medicines, no diagnostic equipment, no functioning ambulances, and no qualified personnel—because those in power have chosen to enrich themselves at the expense of our lives?

Do we not feel, even at a basic traditional level, a responsibility to protect our families from this devastation?

Are we so emasculated that we have allowed those in power to turn us into spectators in our own homes, our own communities, our own nation?

And worse, are we now celebrating and even admiring the very men responsible for our suffering—simply because they display stolen wealth through obscene shows of generosity that serve only to distract and divide us?

Is it not a national embarrassment that some Zimbabwean men now openly express pride when their wives are gifted luxury vehicles by convicted criminals and tenderpreneurs like Wicknell Chivayo?

Have we lost all sense of dignity, that we now praise those who are part of the machinery bleeding our nation dry and undermining the well-being of our loved ones?

What kind of man accepts another man buying his wife a car, when he himself cannot even afford basic groceries—not because of laziness, but because the country has been reduced to ruins by corruption and plunder?

It is not just the economy that is under siege in Zimbabwe.

Our very manhood is under siege. And rather than resist, we have folded.

We have stepped aside, allowing others—often the very people we should be protecting—to take up the fight.

Where were the men, for instance, when Jacob Ngarivhume called for peaceful protests against government corruption in 2020?

When the day arrived, it was not hordes of determined men who showed up.

It was two brave women—Tsitsi Dangarembga and Julie Barnes—who were arrested for daring to speak out.

Where were the men when young women like Netsai Marova, Joanah Mamombe, and Cecilia Chimbiri stood at the forefront of demonstrations calling for accountability and justice—only to be arrested, abducted, and allegedly sexually abused?

Where were the men?

Are we not ashamed that we have left the responsibility of fighting for our families to women who should have been under our protection?

Surely, when a home is under attack, it is the man who confronts the intruder.

Yet in Zimbabwe, we have inverted that order.

Our wives, daughters, and mothers are the ones confronting the political burglars plundering our homes, while we hide behind curtains, pretending not to hear the commotion.

How did we get here?

When did we decide that our only role as men was to complain on WhatsApp, post sarcastic memes on Facebook, or engage in endless bar talk while our families starve and suffer?

This is not the African way. This is not how our forefathers lived.

When their homes were under threat—whether by colonial occupation or injustice—they organized, mobilized, and resisted.

They defended their homes, not with excuses, but with action.

That is why we are here today.

Yet we, their descendants, have become passive observers of our own families’ destruction.

We now need to wake up. We need to rise.

We need to rediscover our sense of duty, pride, and manhood.

The time has come for Zimbabwean men to step up.

We can no longer afford to sit on the sidelines while our children grow up without food, education, or hope; while our wives and mothers suffer from curable illnesses; while our country is looted and left in ruins.

We need to be the ones organizing, resisting, and standing up.

We need to speak out boldly and act bravely, as our fathers did before us.

It is no longer enough to say, “there’s nothing we can do.”

That is a lie.

We can speak truth to power. We can organize peaceful resistance. We can demand accountability.

We can support those who are already on the frontlines. We can educate others. We can vote wisely.

We can protest injustice in our communities. We can refuse to participate in systems of corruption.

We can withhold our respect and praise from those who plunder the nation.

To be a man in Zimbabwe today is to take a stand.

Not with violence or lawlessness, but with courage, wisdom, and unwavering commitment to justice.

To be a man is to protect those you love—not just from physical harm, but from every force that seeks to destroy their future.

To be a man is to provide—not just with money, but with moral leadership and example.

We need to introspect, as Zimbabwean men.

We are failing. We are letting our families down.

And unless we correct this course, we will soon wake up to a country where our sons have no ambition, our daughters no safety, and our wives no hope.

Then, and only then, will we finally ask: why did we not act when we still could?

So I ask again: where have all the men in Zimbabwe gone?