HARARE — In the high-stakes, shadow-filled corridors of Zimbabwe’s ruling party, Zanu PF, the line between business and politics has always been blurred. But this week, that line was redrawn in spectacular fashion as the party moved to decisively clip the wings of Paul Tungwarara, President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s special investment advisor for the United Arab Emirates (UAE). The move follows a series of reckless public outbursts that have laid bare the deepening fissures within the party’s leadership and its patronage-linked business networks.
Tungwarara, the owner of Prevail International, has found himself at the centre of a political firestorm after launching a barrage of public slurs against his rivals during Presidential Economic Empowerment Revolving Fund rallies in Manicaland province. His primary target? The controversial business mogul and Zanu PF Central Committee member, Kudakwashe Tagwirei. Without mentioning the Sakunda Holdings owner by name, Tungwarara accused Tagwirei of plotting a palace coup by pressuring President Mnangagwa to remove Vice-President Constantino Chiwenga and other senior government officials from their posts.
Addressing a crowd of party supporters in Manicaland, Tungwarara unleashed a scathing attack that exposed the raw nerves of the party’s succession politics. “From there, he goes to chief secretaries and then says VP is a thief, saying that after meeting the President, you will think he got it from him,” Tungwarara shouted. “This would be a lie, don’t be misled by these malcontents. Then finally he says we want the two VPs to be fired, you want to be left alone.”
The irony of Tungwarara’s accusations was not lost on seasoned observers. Tagwirei, once touted as a potential successor to Mnangagwa, has long been a central figure in the party’s patronage system. However, the rise of new figures like Tungwarara, Christopher Mutsvangwa, and Wicknell Chivayo has created a crowded field of ambitious loyalists, each jockeying for influence and the lucrative government contracts that come with it. Mutsvangwa, in particular, has been a vocal supporter of Tungwarara, even pledging at a rally in Manicaland to support Tungwarara’s bid to become a Central Committee member—a move seen as a direct challenge to Tagwirei’s established power base.
However, the political winds shifted abruptly this week. In a letter dated January 23, 2026, the Zanu PF national commissar, Munyaradzi Machacha, informed all provincial chairpersons that the Presidential Economic Empowerment Revolving Fund—the very platform Tungwarara was using to launch his attacks—had been suspended with immediate effect.
“The Commissariat Department wishes to announce the temporary suspension of the distribution of the Presidential Economic Empowerment Revolving Fund hence forth,” Machacha wrote. “The Secretary General Cde Advocate J.F.N Mudenda will soon issue new guidelines on the distribution, utilization and management of the Fund. Provinces are advised to comply with this Party position pending further instruction.”
Within the party, the suspension is being interpreted as a direct move to silence Tungwarara and de-escalate the factional hostilities that have begun to spill into the public domain. It is a classic Zanu PF manoeuvre: when the internal bickering becomes too loud, the party leadership shuts down the stage.
Tungwarara’s fall from grace, however, has been a long time coming. He is no stranger to controversy, and his business dealings have frequently been the subject of intense scrutiny. Last year, he was reprimanded by Parliament for the spectacular failure of the Presidential Borehole Scheme. The flagship project, which promised to deliver 10,000 boreholes across the country as a key rural development intervention, became a symbol of government inefficiency and suspected corruption. Members of Parliament from the Portfolio Committee on Agriculture expressed outrage over what they described as “shoddy jobs” and “village business units” that existed only on paper.
The cost of these boreholes was equally staggering, with reports suggesting a price tag of US$12,000 per unit for a contract valued at US$1.2 billion. The Parliamentary Portfolio Committee on Agriculture launched a scathing attack on Prevail International, with Zanu PF MPs themselves joining the chorus of condemnation.
More recently, Tungwarara’s company was embroiled in a “stinky deal” involving river rehabilitation. The government had granted Prevail Group of Companies exclusive rights to undertake river rehabilitation across Zimbabwe — a move that sparked fears of a monopoly and allegations that the project was merely a front for alluvial gold mining by Chinese firms. Just days ago, the Office of the President and Cabinet (OPC) reportedly moved to cancel these contracts amid explosive allegations of environmental degradation and illegal mining.
Perhaps the most significant blow to Tungwarara’s standing came from Vice-President Constantino Chiwenga. In September 2025, Chiwenga reportedly tabled a detailed corruption dossier before the Zanu PF Politburo. The dossier, which Chiwenga described as evidence of “industrial-scale corruption, plunder, and economic haemorrhage,” directly named Tungwarara alongside other prominent figures like Delish Nguwaya and Wicknell Chivayo. Chiwenga’s move was seen as a direct challenge to the President’s business network, accusing the administration of presiding over the “capture and betrayal” of the ideals of the 2017 coup.
The tension between the Mnangagwa and Chiwenga factions has reached a boiling point, with the succession battle now being fought in the open. President Mnangagwa’s reported bid for an unconstitutional third term has only added fuel to the fire, leading to accusations of treason and public exchanges of hostility between the nation’s top leaders. In this environment, figures like Tungwarara, who are seen as “zvigananda” (the nouveau riche or politically connected tycoons), have become lightning rods for criticism.
Even Tungwarara’s personal life has not escaped the spotlight. Just five days ago, social media was ablaze with outrage after his 17-year-old daughter posted a video of a R130,000 shopping spree in South Africa. For a nation struggling with hyperinflation and a collapsing healthcare system, the display of such opulence by the family of a man whose company failed to deliver basic water infrastructure was a bitter pill to swallow.
As the “New Grace” — a moniker some have given Tungwarara in reference to the former First Lady Grace Mugabe’s rapid and controversial rise—finds his wings clipped, the broader implications for Zanu PF are profound. The party is currently a house divided, with its internal battles increasingly being fought through the suspension of empowerment funds and the tabling of corruption dossiers.
The suspension of the Presidential Economic Empowerment Revolving Fund may have silenced Tungwarara’s rallies for now, but it has done little to address the underlying causes of the factional war. With the 2028 elections on the horizon and the succession battle intensifying, the “dog-eat-dog” nature of Zanu PF politics is likely to claim more victims.
For the ordinary Zimbabwean, the spectacle of tycoons at war offers little comfort. Whether it is Tagwirei, Tungwarara, or Chivayo who holds the upper hand, the result for the public remains the same: a landscape of broken promises, unserviced roads, and a government more focused on internal survival than national development. Paul Tungwarara may have been the one to have his wings clipped this week, but in the turbulent skies of Zimbabwean politics, there are many more waiting to take flight—and just as many waiting to bring them down.
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