We must finally confront the tough questions if we are genuinely serious about finding solutions.
Today is Christmas Day.
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In my hometown of Redcliff, the electricity went off in the morning.
I decided to drive to the local shopping centre, only to be reminded once again that our roads are now a dangerous mix of potholes and mud.
Later, my son was invited to a Christmas get-together by his aunt in Mbizo, Kwekwe.
I set out to drive him there, but I never made it to his destination.
The road conditions were so disastrous that I feared damaging my car.
I had to drop him off at Zimasco and give him money to board a mushikashika.
When I returned home around 3 p.m., the electricity was still off.
And so here I was—on Christmas Day—alone, in silence, without power.
These seemingly ordinary but deeply telling experiences forced me to reflect on a question that many of us quietly avoid, yet constantly grapple with: how did we end up here?
How did we manage to destroy what was once a functional, prosperous, and dignified country—one we were genuinely proud to call home?
What happened to the Zimbabwe that worked?
The Zimbabwe with reliable electricity, decent roads, running water, and functioning local authorities?
What happened to the country we grew up believing had a future?
Zimbabwe is a country endowed with extraordinary natural and human resources.
At the very least, we should have been able to maintain what we inherited at independence in 1980—if not improve and expand it.
After all, these are the same resources that were used by a white minority regime to build infrastructure, industries, and towns that were nearly comparable to those in Western countries.
It is no accident that my own hometown, Redcliff, was nicknamed “Little London.”
So how on earth did we fail?
The easiest—and most understandable—answer is to blame ZANU-PF.
Why wouldn’t we?
They have been in power since independence.
Their record of corruption, repression, and mismanagement is well documented.
Even today, the looting of national resources by a politically connected elite is brazen and unapologetic.
We see obscene wealth flaunted in our faces: luxury cars, mansions, lavish lifestyles, and the open distribution of cars and cash to celebrities and party loyalists.
All this while roads collapse, electricity disappears for hours every day, and public services disintegrate because funds meant for maintenance and upgrades are being stolen.
But is this really a ZANU-PF problem alone?
Are we honestly convinced that if another political party took over, this painful reality would suddenly change?
If so, what evidence do we have to support such confidence?
In my own town of Redcliff, and in neighbouring Kwekwe, the opposition has controlled local authorities for nearly two decades.
What do we have to show for it?
Are these towns better governed?
Are the roads drivable?
Is water reliable?
I could not even drive my son to Mbizo 18 today because the roads have become a hazard.
So why do we insist that Zimbabwe’s deterioration is solely a ZANU-PF issue?
Are we not deliberately ignoring something deeper, more uncomfortable, and far more confronting?
Perhaps we are choosing not to admit a painful truth: that we have failed to govern ourselves as Black people.
We hide behind convenient excuses.
We blame “sanctions.”
We blame “central government interference” in opposition-run urban areas.
These explanations may offer emotional comfort, but they do not withstand serious scrutiny.
In Redcliff, senior local authority officials live lavishly, drive top-of-the-range vehicles bought using ratepayers’ money, while residents endure five years without consistent running water and navigate roads that are barely passable.
All this happens under the watch of opposition councillors who approve these budgets without protest.
Not a single one has publicly expressed outrage at how public funds are being abused.
Instead, they behave like employees of top management, not representatives of suffering residents.
So how can anyone, with a straight face, claim that the collapse of standards in opposition-run urban areas is solely due to central government interference?
This problem goes beyond ZANU-PF.
It is a Black leadership problem.
We are failing, and the sooner we admit it, the sooner we can begin to understand why.
Why do we find nothing morally disturbing about nearly 80 percent of our population living in poverty, while a tiny elite enriches itself through the abuse and externalisation of national resources?
Why does it not haunt our conscience that our public hospitals have become places of quiet death, where thousands perish for lack of basic treatment and medicines, while those in power scatter cars and cash like confetti at a wedding?
Why do we feel no shame driving luxury vehicles over potholes and muddy roads that we were entrusted—and paid—to maintain?
Why does it not trouble our conscience that entire towns sit in darkness, while a privileged few enjoy taxpayer-funded solar power in their homes?
What is wrong with us?
I refuse to believe that this is an inherent racial flaw.
But it would be dishonest to deny that something is deeply wrong.
Perhaps it lies in how power is understood.
Perhaps it lies in how leadership is taught.
Perhaps it lies in a culture that normalises selfishness, cruelty, and entitlement once one ascends to authority.
What is undeniable is this: our actions increasingly portray us as callous, self-serving, and indifferent to the suffering of our own people.
And until we confront this reality honestly—without hiding behind excuses, slogans, or party politics—we will never find a solution.
True liberation was never just about removing white rule.
It was about building a just, accountable, and humane society.
If we cannot admit how far we have fallen short of that ideal, then we will remain trapped in darkness—literally and morally.
Only brutal honesty can save us now.
TENDAI RUBEN MBOFANA - THE UN-OPPRESSED MIND! 