The silence from the Munhumutapa Building following the death of Blessed Runesu Geza has been louder than any official statement could ever be. Geza, the man known during the liberation struggle as “Cde Bombshell,” passed away in the early hours of Friday, February 6, 2026, in a South African hospital.
While his family has confirmed that a long battle with cancer finally claimed his life, the ruling elite in Harare are reportedly not mourning a fallen comrade, but rather trembling at the explosive legacy he left behind—a haunting final letter penned from his sickbed that threatens to dismantle the very foundation of the current administration.
A Final Salvo from “Cde Bombshell”
Blessed Geza did not go quietly into the night. Writing shortly after 5 AM Central Africa Time on the day before his death, Geza released a deeply emotional and politically charged letter that has since been circulating in hushed tones across Zimbabwe and the diaspora. In what can only be described as a final tactical strike, the man who once fought for the country’s liberation turned his sights on those he believes have betrayed it.
This was not merely the rambling of a dying man. It was a calculated, firsthand account of a “betrayed revolution” from someone who sat in the inner circles of the ruling party as a former ZANU PF Central Committee member. Geza’s transition from a loyalist to a “nemesis” of President Emmerson Mnangagwa began in earnest in 2025, when he used social media to expose what he termed the “wholesale looting” of Zimbabwe’s resources.
The Secrets of the “Zviganandas” and the Sanyati Fire
What makes Geza’s letter particularly terrifying for the ruling elite is his intimate knowledge of the party’s inner workings. He spoke of the “Zviganandas”—a term used to describe the predatory elite who have captured the State. His allegations were specific, naming names that are usually only whispered in fear.
“We are witnessing unprecedented levels of corruption,” Geza wrote. “The Zviganandas have captured the State. They are robbing this country dry. They are stealing from you, from your children, and from your future. Last year, I exposed their corrupt activities and called for collective action to remove Emmerson from power.”
Our investigation into Geza’s final months reveals a man who was hunted even as he fought for his life against cancer. After his 2025 broadcasts, police reportedly prepared treason charges against him, forcing him into a painful exile in South Africa. The state’s response was swift and brutal: his wife, Roseline Tawengwa, was detained and questioned for hours, and his home in Sanyati was targeted in a petrol-bomb attack. This was not just a random act of violence; it was a clear message to the veteran that his “Bombshell” revelations were hitting too close to home.
The Sanyati bombing, which occurred in the dead of night, destroyed not just property but the sense of safety that a war veteran should be entitled to in the land he fought to liberate. Witnesses at the time spoke of “unidentified men” in dark vehicles, a hallmark of the security apparatus’s “unconventional” methods. Yet, even as his world was literally burning, Geza refused to be silenced. From his hospital bed in Johannesburg, he remained defiant, his energy sapped by illness but his spirit seemingly unyielding.
“This will never happen. I vow to fight this from the grave. Vana Ziyambi muchamhanya chete (Ziyambi’s people will just keep running),” he vowed, referring to the justice ministry’s attempts to silence him. The mention of Ziyambi Ziyambi, the Minister of Justice, Legal and Parliamentary Affairs, was a direct challenge to the legal machinery being used to persecute him.
Geza challenged the Status Quo
By publicly naming business figures, families, and networks implicated in corruption, Geza disrupted a political culture dependent on silence, euphemism, deniability, and collective amnesia. People understand theft when it has surnames. Naming functions as an anti-plutocratic indictment, but it does not erase past complicity. Rather, it reintroduces agency, responsibility, and blame into public discourse.
Apology, in this context, is not a claim to redemption. It is an act of withdrawing moral consent. Geza’s later interventions align with a broader political economy diagnosis. They point to the transformation of the postcolonial state from a developmental and redistributive project into one organised around access, proximity, and extraction. Early nationalist imaginaries across Africa, Asia, and Latin America imagined the state as a vehicle for national development and popular uplift.
Over time, this gave way to what Michael Bratton and Nicolas van de Walle described as neo-patrimonial rule, where formal institutions coexist with personalised power and patronage. In such systems, politics is less about ideology or programme than about access to state resources.
Geza’s language reflects this reality. Power is organised around who gets in and who is kept out. In this sense, his intervention reinforces my earlier argument that succession within ZANU PF has never been about ideas, but about access.
Geza did not exit the world’s political stage as a neutral figure. He aligned himself with factional struggles, including support for Constantino Chiwenga, and could not be detached from succession battles within ZANU PF. Yet in his final interventions, he also signalled a withdrawal from personal ambition. “I am old and have played my part.”
The 2017 Regret and the Chiwenga Connection
One of the most compelling aspects of Geza’s final message was his public apology for his role in the November 2017 removal of Robert Mugabe. Like many Zimbabweans, Geza had hoped that the transition would lead to a “New Dispensation” of reform and prosperity. Instead, he described the aftermath as a “nightmare.”
“When we recognised that Mugabe had betrayed the covenant forged in our battle for this country, we made the decision to remove him in November 2017, filled with hope for a government that would correct those wrongs. I have since apologised for my role in that removal. Yet what followed has been a nightmare. Mnangagwa has fared even worse, completely neglecting the values we fought for.”
Intriguingly, Geza also referenced Vice President Constantino Chiwenga, the man who led the 2017 operation. He quoted Chiwenga’s own words back to the current administration:
“As Vice President Constantino Chiwenga said, we fought for a country where everyone has a place at the table. Yet today, we witness unprecedented levels of corruption.”
By invoking Chiwenga, Geza was highlighting the growing rift within the ruling party—a factional battle between those who still cling to the ideals of the struggle and those who have traded them for “personal enrichment.”
The Battle for the Narrative and the Exile Mystery
Since the news of Geza’s death broke, the state has been working overtime to manage the narrative. There has been a conspicuous absence of the usual “hero” status deliberations that follow the death of a high-ranking war veteran. Instead, the state-controlled media has largely ignored his passing, while social media has been flooded with tributes from opposition figures and ordinary citizens alike. This “selective amnesia” by the state is a calculated move to prevent Geza’s death from becoming a focal point for the growing discontent in the country.
The mystery of his exile also adds a layer of intrigue to the story. Why did a man with such deep roots in the ZANU PF establishment feel he had no choice but to flee to South Africa for medical treatment? The answer lies in the total collapse of the trust between the President and the old guard of the liberation struggle. Geza knew that staying in a Zimbabwean hospital would make him an easy target for those who wanted his “Bombshell” secrets to die with him.
Nelson Chamisa, the former leader of the Citizens Coalition for Change (CCC), was among the first to pay tribute, calling Geza a “flame kindled that will never fade.”
“CDE GEZA… You broke rank. You saw the light and lit the way,” Chamisa posted. This endorsement from the opposition’s most prominent figure has only added to the ruling party’s anxiety, as it suggests a cross-ideological respect for Geza’s courage.
The family of the deceased has also had to navigate a minefield of state interference and opportunistic scams. They have issued a stern warning to the public to ignore any “GoFundMe” campaigns or calls for cash donations towards the funeral, stating that they are aware some people would want to “cash in” on his death. This move is seen by many as an attempt to maintain the dignity of Geza’s memory and prevent the state from using financial dependency as a way to control the funeral proceedings. There are even whispers that the state offered to pay for the funeral expenses in exchange for a “sanitised” burial, an offer the family reportedly rebuffed in favour of a private, dignified send-off.
Why This Death Terrifies Power
The ruling elite are terrified of Blessed Geza not because of what he might do, but because of what he has already done. He has provided a moral and intellectual framework for resistance from within the very heart of the establishment. He was a man who “knew where the bodies were buried,” both literally and figuratively.
His death from cancer in exile is a stinging indictment of the Zimbabwean healthcare system, which has been decimated by the very corruption he exposed. While the elite fly to Singapore, Dubai, or China for medical treatment, a war hero like Geza was forced to seek care in South Africa, eventually dying far from the land he bled to liberate.
As Zimbabweans process the loss of “Cde Bombshell,” his final words serve as a rallying cry for a disillusioned nation:
“Do not let fear engulf you; let it fuel your resolve. We have fought too hard and lost too much to turn back now.”
The question now is whether the “resolve” Geza spoke of will be enough to challenge the “2030 crusade” and the entrenched interests he died fighting. One thing is certain: though Blessed Geza is gone, his voice from beyond the grave is louder than ever, and the ruling elite in Harare are listening with a fear they cannot hide.
Follow @MyZimbabweNews
