Where is the Mutapa Investment Fund money?

This is the tale of two nations in the same country!

Zimbabweans have been told, time and again, that the country possesses vast state assets worth billions of dollars — assets that, if managed wisely, could ease the tax burden on citizens, stabilise public finances and accelerate development.

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Yet, despite this supposed national fortune, we continue witnessing a government that funds its operations primarily through taxing the poor.

The recent increase in Value Added Tax (VAT), justified by the Finance Minister as essential for strengthening the revenue base, only adds to the persistent sense of injustice felt across the country.

How does a nation that claims to have a sovereign wealth fund controlling assets valued at US$16 billion still rely on squeezing every last cent from its already impoverished population?

More critically, where is the revenue from the Mutapa Investment Fund?

The rebranded Mutapa Investment Fund was sold to the public as a transformative national instrument — a vehicle that would unlock value from state enterprises, generate income for the Treasury, and ensure long-term economic stability.

Yet, years after its expansion, there is no evidence that it has contributed anything meaningful to the national budget.

Instead, ordinary Zimbabweans are facing escalating taxes, including on the most basic goods and services, while the Fund itself remains shrouded in secrecy.

It has even been removed from the Ministry of Finance and placed directly under the Office of the President, beyond the reach of parliamentary oversight.

If this Fund is truly the national asset the public is told it is, why must it operate in the dark?

What makes the situation more alarming is that the government continues to deepen its dependence on consumption taxes — the very taxes that disproportionately affect the poor.

These include VAT, the 2% IMTT US dollar tax, presumptive taxes on small traders, and the various levies and licence fees that ordinary Zimbabweans encounter even for the smallest economic activities.

Even those in the informal sector, surviving on tiny daily takings, are not spared — they must still contend with council fees, market charges, and other compulsory payments that chip away at their earnings.

Meanwhile, the Mutapa Investment Fund, which controls multi-billion-dollar companies, reportedly enjoys exemptions from taxation.

How can a government justify taxing the poorest citizens while a massive state entity escapes similar obligations?

The disparity is staggering, especially considering the dire state of public services.

Our mothers — including my own, whom I lost in October — are still dying in public hospitals starved of basic medicines, equipment, and essential care.

Most hospitals operate without even the most fundamental diagnostic tools or cancer treatment services — a grim reality that should shame any government.

At the same time, our schools remain in an appalling state, with children in rural areas learning under trees or sitting on dusty floors, and teachers using outdated or inadequate learning materials.

Zimbabweans are told the country has no money, yet they watch as scandals involving millions of dollars continue to surface — scandals typically linked to inflated tenders, dubious procurement, and politically connected networks enriching themselves.

The Mutapa Investment Fund was supposed to be part of the solution to these problems.

Instead, it appears to have become part of the problem.

Governance experts and accountability advocates have long warned that the structure of the Fund invites abuse.

It is shielded from public procurement laws, meaning the companies under its control can award massive contracts without the transparency required of traditional state entities.

Without oversight, this creates fertile ground for corruption, allowing individuals to manipulate public assets for personal gain.

Even the valuations used to justify the claim that the Fund is worth US$16 billion have never been shared publicly, leaving analysts puzzled about how such a figure was reached, especially in light of contentious transactions like the multi-billion-dollar Kuvimba acquisition.

There is also the troubling issue of debt.

While some have praised the Fund as a potential “game changer”, financial experts argue that its expansion has been financed through extensive borrowing — the very borrowing that has contributed to Zimbabwe’s ballooning public debt.

Instead of being a reservoir of national wealth, the Fund may be deepening the economic crisis by adding billions of dollars to obligations that taxpayers will eventually have to repay.

A sovereign wealth fund is supposed to gather and grow national savings, not accumulate debt that chokes future generations before they even find their footing.

The lack of accountability has only worsened since the Fund was removed from the Ministry of Finance.

Now reporting directly to the President, and with employees reportedly bound to secrecy, the Fund is insulated from scrutiny by Parliament — the very institution entrusted with protecting the public interest.

When lawmakers sought clarity on its operations, they were turned away or ignored.

A sovereign wealth fund that is supposed to manage national resources on behalf of the people cannot operate like a private family business.

In most countries, sovereign wealth funds are run with strict transparency, accountability, and clear public oversight.

Norway’s Government Pension Fund Global, for example, is managed independently from the government’s day-to-day political decision-making, publishes its investments and returns annually, and is subject to parliamentary scrutiny.

Botswana’s Pula Fund, built from diamond revenues, similarly has clear reporting standards and serves as a stabilisation tool and long-term savings mechanism for future generations.

Even funds in larger, resource-rich countries such as the UAE or Singapore operate under strict governance frameworks, with audited accounts, defined investment strategies, and professional management.

In these examples, the purpose of the funds is clear: to safeguard national wealth, generate sustainable revenue, and benefit citizens — not to operate in secrecy or enrich a select few.

National assets belong to the nation, not to a small group of individuals.

This begs the central question: why remove the Mutapa Investment Fund from the Ministry of Finance at all?

If it is properly run, why hide it from Parliament?

If it is truly generating value, why are Zimbabweans not seeing any of that value reflected in their lives?

Public hospitals should be improving, not deteriorating.

Schools should be receiving investment, not falling apart.

The economy should be stabilising, not sinking deeper into poverty.

For a fund that supposedly controls such enormous wealth, the silence surrounding its actual performance is deafening.

The true tragedy is that Zimbabweans are being forced to pay more tax because the government claims that revenue is insufficient — yet at the same time, a massive national fund sits in the shadows, not contributing a single cent to the public purse.

The government cannot demand sacrifices from citizens while refusing to be transparent about how it manages their national wealth.

Accountability is not optional; it is a constitutional obligation.

When national assets are shielded from scrutiny, citizens are right to be concerned that something is deeply amiss.

Zimbabwe needs a sovereign wealth fund that genuinely serves the public, not one that appears to enrich a privileged elite.

The Mutapa Investment Fund must be brought back under full public oversight.

Its investments, revenues, debts, and transactions must be published.

Parliament must have authority to examine its operations.

The public must know how much money is being made — and where that money is going.

Until that happens, Zimbabweans will continue to ask, and rightly so: where is the Mutapa Investment Fund money?