The life of President Emmerson Mnangagwa is a profound tapestry woven with threads of political intrigue, betrayal, brutal colonial oppression, and miraculous survival. His journey, marked by not one but two death sentences and multiple brushes with the grave, now stands as the powerful, personal motivation behind a historic legislative shift in Zimbabwe: the abolition of the death penalty. The President’s own harrowing experiences with capital punishment have profoundly shaped his stance, turning a personal ordeal into a national policy of mercy.
The Senate recently approved a bill to abolish the death penalty, a significant step towards reforming the country’s criminal justice system. This decision, which awaits the President’s signature to become law, comes nearly two decades after the last execution in Zimbabwe in 2005. The move aligns Zimbabwe with a growing global trend, but for President Mnangagwa, it is a deeply personal matter, rooted in his past as a young freedom fighter who faced the hangman’s noose from two different directions.
The Double Shadow of Death
President Mnangagwa’s life story reveals two distinct instances where he was condemned to death. The first came from within the liberation movement itself, a chilling act of betrayal and political rivalry. The second was the expected consequence of his sabotage activities against the oppressive Rhodesian regime of Ian Smith.
The earliest incident occurred around 1962 or 1963, when the young Emmerson Mnangagwa, then the secretary for youth in ZAPU, was sentenced to death by a tribunal led by the late nationalist Dumiso Dabengwa. The charge was a serious one: insulting ZAPU leader Joshua Nkomo. The accusation stemmed from an incident at Freedom House in Lusaka, where Mnangagwa was falsely accused of disrespecting Nkomo during a meeting.
In 2015, while serving as Vice President, Mnangagwa recounted this dramatic episode to a gathering of ZANU-PF supporters in Mvuma. He narrated how the ZAPU officials, including Dabengwa, held a “Kangaroo court” and decided that he should be killed for the “offence.” Mnangagwa even mimicked the Ndebele dialogue of the officials:
“UDumiso wasukuma wabe esithi, Mdhala (Nkomo) kulomfana konapha ukhade elithethisa. Kwatwa ungaphi? Kwatwa ukhonapha. Kwatwa sukuma. Ngasikhuma. UNkomo wabe esithi khonoku ukunje… wabe ehleka wahamba. (Dumiso rose up in a meeting and said to Nkomo, old man, there is a boy who was insulting you. They told me to stand up – Nkomo laughed and said how can a small boy like this do that, before walking away).”
After Nkomo left, the officials, who included a Mlala and Nkiwane, passed the verdict. The next chilling step was to decide on the method of execution.
“The officials who had passed the verdict, with Dumiso having been their judge, then said so how do we kill him. One of them answered and said we cannot discuss that in the presence of the boy. So I was put in a separate room.”
His survival was a matter of sheer luck and the kindness of a guard. The guard, who was made to watch him, discovered that Mnangagwa was from Shabani (now Zvishavane), the same area as his mother. Feeling sorry for the young man, the guard went straight to the hotel of Leopold Takawira, a prominent nationalist who held a high position in ZAPU, to tell him of the predicament. Takawira, in a quick-witted move to save his life, sent a message back that Mnangagwa was to be included in a delegation of six people to be sent to Ghana for a mission.
“In order to fool the Zapu officials, Takawira, who held a high position in Zapu, sent back the boy to where I was with the message that I was supposed to be one of six people to be sent to Ghana for some mission. That is how I survived,” said Mnangagwa.
The Betrayal, Torture, and Decade in Jail
The second death sentence came in 1965, following his arrest for his involvement with the famed Crocodile Gang, whose operations included the blowing up of a train at Fort Victoria, now Masvingo. This arrest was precipitated by a devastating act of betrayal.
President Mnangagwa recounted his arrest in a recent interview with the Zimbabwe Broadcasting Corporation (ZBC), revealing that he was sold out while writing an appraisal report meant for the late national hero Cde Herbert Chitepo, who was in Lusaka. The betrayal came from a trusted comrade, Michael Mawema.
“Yes, Michael Mawema; I don’t need to hide it because Michael Mawema sold me out,” the President stated plainly. “I was on my way to Malawi, so I went to Michael Mawema’s house in Highfield. I was the head of the operations in the country. So, I was busy writing my report at Michael Mawema’s house in Highfield so that it would be sent to (Cde Herbert) Chitepo.”
The Rhodesian Special Branch, led by Inspector Beans, quickly surrounded the house. The arrest itself was a chilling display of the regime’s recognition of his importance.
“Little did I know that Michael Mawema was a sellout, he went and told the special branch (and) Inspector Beans was the one who came. I was busy writing my report. It should (have been) sent to Lusaka (and in no time), the house was surrounded and when I left the room, I wasn’t walking, they lifted me. I was VIP because they lifted me up to the police truck,” he chronicled.
What followed was a period of gruesome torture at the hands of black officers in the Criminal Investigation Department, orchestrated by the Rhodesian regime. The torture chamber was a notorious room at the west end of the Harare Central Police Station, known chillingly as “Butcher House A20.”
“That was the torture house, so, when you go in this room, they would put leg irons on one leg, put the chain over the bar then you hang head down . . . then, the white man is standing there with a notebook and says ‘Emmerson, in this notebook, there is nothing written, here is a pencil, everything is new, what you are going to begin to write in this will come from you’,” he detailed.
The torture was relentless and brutal, involving water-boarding and physical assault.
“Some black CID is that side, another one is this side (so) you are hit this side (then) you go on the rail, but they were foolish because if you have your head down and the legs up you don’t survive long. So, I don’t know how long I was kept in that position, I only remember when I came round (and) when I came round, these chaps were getting water from the toilet onto my head (saying) amuka, amuka, amuka, hitting the door,” the President recalled.
Despite the torture, he was sentenced to death by the Ian Smith regime. However, his life was spared because he was underage. The age of majority at the time was 21, and Mnangagwa was 18. According to his authorised biography, Life of Sacrifice: Emmerson Mnangagwa, the judge, Justice John Lewis, explicitly stated:
“I do not therefore propose to sentence you to death.”
The sentence was commuted to ten years’ imprisonment, which he served, including a period in a dark room at Khami Prison. His parents, who had travelled all the way from Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia) to visit him, were distraught.
“Oh, yeah my father and my mother came, they cried and I said, ‘no, no, go back and plough, there’s no point of crying’,” he said. “They came all the way from Northern Rhodesia, they saw me and they cried and I said, ‘go away, endai munorima muendese vana kuchikoro, ndichauya’. And it happened like that, I went to prison for 10 years, finished my 10 years and I went back home.”
He was eventually released at the “no man’s land” on the Victoria Falls border between Zimbabwe and Zambia, where he was received by the late General Josiah Tongogara. The Rhodesian authorities were clear in their parting words: “They said, don’t ever come back”.
The Third Escape: The Poisoning
The pattern of near-death experiences did not end with the liberation struggle. In 2017, while serving as Vice President, Mnangagwa faced his third major brush with death when he was poisoned at a ZANU PF rally in Gwanda.
“The third one is very recent, in 2017, when I was poisoned there,” he stated. “I am here because of this young man (Vice President Constantino) Chiwenga. He and the First Lady were able to rush me to South Africa, where I survived.”
He was swiftly airlifted to Harare and then to South Africa while unconscious. He has no memory of the journey, relying on the accounts of those who saved him.
“They tell me how I travelled, but I don’t know. They tell me from Gwanda (we went to) Gweru (then) to Harare; I was sleeping on Chiwenga’s lap while I was unconscious. So, I want my family to know that this young man saved me. He took me to South Africa. It has been a challenging journey,” he revealed.
A Sole Survivor’s Destiny
President Mnangagwa’s incredible journey is further underscored by the fact that he is the sole survivor of several groups of freedom fighters. He noted that of the 13 colleagues he was with in Egypt in 1962 and 1963, none survived, as they were executed after being imprisoned for supporting the “rebels” who had deserted Dr Joshua Nkomo.
“None of my colleagues, the 13 … we were together in Egypt in 1962 and 1963… none survived,” he said. “I was the only survivor. I then spent 10 years at Khami Prison in a dark room. God has been very kind with me.”
Similarly, of the five men who trained with him in China, he is the only one still alive. Even among the members of the Crocodile Gang, he remains the only survivor. This repeated survival against overwhelming odds has led many, including Vice President Constantino Chiwenga, to emphasise the role of destiny and divine intervention in his life.
From Dambudzo to Emmerson: A Personal Touch
Amidst the high drama of political survival, the President also shared a lighter, more personal anecdote about his childhood and the origin of his name. At home, he was known as “Dambudzo,” but he adopted the name “Emmerson” after reading a book in a school library, without his parents’ knowledge.
He recounted a time in the 1940s when school results were announced, and parents would attend.
“So, class teachers would announce results class by class. At home, I was called Dambudzo, but at school I was Emmerson, because I had never told my parents that I had changed (my name). So, the teacher said ‘Emmerson, you did well in English and Arithmetic, stand up’, while pointing at me. But I could not stand up because I was sitting with my mother. When I then stood up, my mother said: ‘Hezvo! Hezvo! Ko wava kunzi ani?’”
This story, shared during his 81st birthday celebrations, provides a rare glimpse into the man behind the presidency, a man whose life has been anything but ordinary.
The Legacy of Mercy
The President’s commitment to abolishing the death penalty is the culmination of this extraordinary life. Currently, Zimbabwe has more than 60 inmates on death row. Justice Minister Ziyambi Ziyambi, in addressing the Senate, acknowledged the emotional weight of the topic, but stressed the cultural imperative for abolition.
“I stand before this House to seek the abolition of the death penalty. The deliberation will be emotional… Our culture does not allow us to kill someone because they have murdered someone,” he stated, emphasising that traditional Zimbabwean beliefs do not support capital punishment.
Senator Tongogara heralded the bill as “a landmark piece of legislation that seeks to fundamentally transform Zimbabwe’s criminal justice system,” noting that 142 countries are already abolitionist in law or practice. While dissenting voices, such as Senator Linda Sibanda, who lamented the pain of victims, were heard, the overwhelming momentum is towards abolition.
President Mnangagwa’s journey—from the internal betrayal of a kangaroo court and the colonial gallows to the modern threat of poisoning—is a powerful testament to resilience. His survival, three times over, has now paved the way for a legacy of mercy, ensuring that no other person in Zimbabwe will have to face the shadow of the hangman’s noose that he himself escaped.
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