Is Mnangagwa’s illusion of Munhumutapa a harbinger of his own ‘Kingdom’s’ eventual demise?

There is a saying: pride comes before a fall.

On September 15, Zimbabwe marks what is now officially called Munhumutapa Day.

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On the surface, this is meant to commemorate the legacy of the Mutapa Empire, one of the most powerful precolonial states in Southern Africa.

Yet, what cannot go unnoticed is that this date coincides exactly with President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s birthday, as he turned 83 this year.

The timing is too convenient to be dismissed as mere coincidence.

The suspicion, if not outright conclusion, is that Mnangagwa is deliberately aligning his personal legacy with that of King Munhumutapa, projecting himself as the modern reincarnation of the Shona empire-builder.

But why would a sitting president feel compelled to make such a declaration, and what does this reveal about the deeper political and cultural undercurrents shaping Zimbabwe today?

For starters, there is the unmistakable whiff of delusions of grandeur in this move.

History is replete with leaders who sought to enshrine themselves as mythical figures, beyond the scrutiny of mere mortals.

Pharaohs of ancient Egypt declared themselves gods on earth; Napoleon crowned himself, signaling authority above Church and people; Adolf Hitler openly modeled himself on Alexander the Great, envisioning a ‘Thousand-Year Reich’ that would dominate Europe; and more recently, Kim Il-sung of North Korea cultivated a cult of personality to place himself beyond challenge.

By tying his birthday to Munhumutapa Day, Mnangagwa appears to be carving out a cult of personality, elevating himself not just as a political leader, but as a semi-royal figure in the lineage of legendary kings.

This is not the act of a leader comfortable with democratic norms or constitutional limits.

Rather, it smacks of monarchical ambition, reinforcing suspicions that his loyalists are laying the groundwork for extending his rule beyond the constitutionally mandated two five-year terms, which expire in 2028.

For all intents and purposes, this is a subtle way of declaring himself Zimbabwe’s new king.

The tribal dimension of this symbolism is equally troubling.

Mnangagwa is a Karanga, and so too were the rulers of the Mutapa Empire.

Within ZANU-PF’s factional politics, there has long been an undercurrent of Karanga ascendancy, with Mnangagwa’s allies working tirelessly to entrench their hold on power.

By declaring Munhumutapa Day on his birthday, Mnangagwa is not merely invoking historical pride, but implicitly positioning the Karanga as natural rulers of Zimbabwe.

This becomes even more dangerous when one considers the growing tensions around succession.

Vice President Constantino Chiwenga, a Zezuru, has long been seen as the natural heir within ZANU-PF.

Yet Mnangagwa’s camp appears intent on blocking him at all costs, instead floating names like Kudakwashe Tagwirei—another Karanga, and a man whose business empire thrives on state patronage—as a potential successor.

This is no small matter in a country where past violence has often had tribal undertones.

Reducing Zimbabwe to a Karanga empire in the image of Munhumutapa risks sowing seeds of discord that could one day explode into open conflict.

But the Munhumutapa comparison does not stop at tribalism and monarchy.

There is also the matter of wealth, plunder, and exploitation.

The Mutapa Empire derived its strength from its control over vast gold deposits and regional trade.

That legacy is eerily echoed in Mnangagwa’s Zimbabwe, where gold has become the new curse.

The Al Jazeera Gold Mafia documentary exposed how networks of smugglers and political elites, linked directly to Mnangagwa’s inner circle, are siphoning off more than US$1 billion in gold annually.

Just as the Munhumutapa was accused of collaborating in the slave trade, selling human beings to Portuguese traders, today’s ruling elite is complicit in a modern form of slavery.

Chinese mining companies, emboldened by their cozy relationship with Mnangagwa’s government, exploit Zimbabwean workers with impunity—underpaying them, subjecting them to abuse, and in some cases violence and death.

Communities are displaced from ancestral lands without consent or fair compensation, rivers are poisoned, soils degraded, and livelihoods destroyed.

This is not development; it is plunder dressed up as progress.

And it mirrors precisely the darker aspects of the Mutapa legacy that history often glosses over.

The irony is bitter. While the Mutapa Empire may have commanded fear and respect in its heyday, it eventually crumbled under the weight of internal divisions and overreliance on gold.

Its decline was spectacular, a reminder that no empire, however powerful, is eternal.

This should serve as a warning to Mnangagwa and his allies.

By elevating himself to the level of Munhumutapa, he may think he is immortalizing his legacy.

In reality, he could be scripting the prelude to his downfall.

Just as the Mutapa Kingdom fractured and faded, Mnangagwa’s regime may find itself undone by corruption, tribalism, and the arrogance of power.

There is also the grotesque spectacle of state propaganda around this day.

Information Minister Jenfan Muswere described the commemorations as a celebration of Mnangagwa’s life and leadership, hailing him as a visionary, a man of peace, and a champion of prosperity.

Yet ordinary Zimbabweans know this is a cruel mockery of their daily reality.

Millions languish in poverty, corruption is out of control, hospitals are in shambles, and young people are fleeing the country in droves.

To cloak such suffering under the banner of Munhumutapa pride is not just tone-deaf—it is insulting.

It is the ultimate reminder of how far removed the ruling elite has become from the lived experiences of ordinary citizens.

At its core, declaring Munhumutapa Day on his birthday is not about history, unity, or cultural pride.

It is about Mnangagwa’s personal vanity, political survival, and the perpetuation of a corrupt system.

It is about constructing a narrative where he is not just a president bound by constitutional limits, but a king whose reign is timeless, whose legacy is unquestionable, and whose authority is absolute.

It is about turning Zimbabwe into a modern-day empire of patronage, where the ruling elite enriches itself while the masses are left to toil in silence.

But history has a way of humbling those who think themselves invincible.

The Munhumutapa Empire itself is testament to that.

Its grandeur did not prevent its collapse, and its gold could not buy immortality.

Mnangagwa may well succeed in stamping September 15 on the national calendar, but the real question is whether he can escape the fate that befell the very empire he now seeks to emulate.

If anything, the parallels suggest the opposite: that his regime, built on corruption, tribalism, and repression, may one day collapse just as spectacularly as the kingdom of his forebears.