The morning air in Johannesburg on 6 February 2026 was unusually heavy, carrying with it the weight of a secret that had crossed the Limpopo River months earlier. In a quiet corner of the city, Blessed Runesu Geza, the man known to many as “Bombshell,” breathed his last. His death has not just ended a life; it has ignited a fierce debate that reaches the very top of Zimbabwe’s political hierarchy. While the official narrative speaks of natural causes, those who followed his journey into the shadows of exile are fiercely contesting this version of events. Our investigation reveals a darker sequence of events leading up to the demise of the man who dared to challenge President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s “2030 Agenda.”
Blessed Geza was not just any critic. He was a man whose legacy was complex and highly polarised, built on an indisputable record as a liberation struggle hero and a former high-ranking member of the ruling Zanu PF. As a Zanla guerrilla, his contribution to the birth of Zimbabwe was unimpeachable. Yet, in his final years, he became the ultimate political headache for the man he once called “leader.” Expelled from the Zanu PF Central Committee in March 2025, Geza did not go quietly into the night. Instead, he became a fierce adversary, accusing the Mnangagwa administration of being “corrupt, incompetent and tribal,” while boldly opposing the bid to extend his term beyond 2028 to 2030.
The dilemma now facing President Mnangagwa is whether to declare Geza a national hero. It is a question that cuts to the heart of Zimbabwe’s selective and often controversial hero-naming process. “To declare him or not to declare, that is the question.” The selection criteria, managed by the President often through the Zanu PF Politburo, has long been described by critics as “partisan, exclusionary, and a tool for maintaining political hegemony and control.” Some who deserved the status were ignored, while others who did not were buried at the National Heroes Acre in Harare, discrediting a process that many see as fundamentally flawed.
Geza’s family, in announcing his passing, described him as a “hero” without hesitation. Former Norton independent MP Temba Mliswa, a man who has himself navigated the turbulent waters of Zanu PF politics, has publicly urged Mnangagwa to rise above “petty politics” and confer the status. Mliswa argues that the President must acknowledge the unimpeachable liberation record, regardless of the recent political friction. Granting this status could potentially mend rifts within the war veteran community, where many feel the party is ignoring its veterans. However, for Mnangagwa, it is a double-edged sword; doing so could set a precedent and encourage others to do the same.
The friction between Geza and the state reached a breaking point when Geza began to mobilise what he called an “uprising.” He was not just talking; he was attempting to organise an “indefinite stay away” and calling for Mnangagwa’s removal. He accused the President of “corruption, incompetence, and ethnic politics, as well as failing to uphold the constitution.” With breathtaking intensity, Geza repeatedly claimed Mnangagwa’s rule was illegitimate. He even went as far as naming thirty-five individuals he accused of massive corruption, demanding their arrest.
This defiance made him a marked man. Mnangagwa’s allies labelled him a “failed politician” and a “loud-mouth attention-seeker” who opposed party leaders. But behind the rhetoric, the state was moving. Geza faced criminal charges for “undermining the authority of the President” and “inciting public violence.” Fearing for his life, he escaped into self-imposed exile in South Africa. But the border was no barrier. We have uncovered details of a high-level surveillance operation that followed him across the Limpopo. “Renegade” agents, or what some call “Mnangagwa’s goons,” allegedly hunted him down, tasked with silencing the most vocal critic of the constitutional extension.
The political landscape Geza left behind is one of deep suspicion. He was widely regarded as Vice-President Constantino Chiwenga’s political ally, placing him directly in the crosshairs of the succession battles currently consuming Zanu PF. His attacks were not just aimed at the President but also at the “Zvigananda”—Mnangagwa’s cash-rich business cronies. Geza’s voice had become the echo of a nation’s buried conscience, reawakening a sense of redemption for those who felt the revolution had been betrayed. His actions were viewed as an attempt to “cause chaos and fuel succession battles, specifically with calls for an uprising.”
In a surprising twist, Zanu PF spokesperson Chris Mutsvangwa has described Geza as a hero, despite the attacks on the party. Mutsvangwa, who was a personal friend of Geza, claimed that the late veteran only attacked the ruling party and Mnangagwa “as a result of being sick and taken advantage of by some.” Even when the attacks were at their most vitriolic, Mutsvangwa says he resisted the pressure to engage his friend in public, maintaining their bond despite the political differences. This admission hints at the complex personal loyalties that still exist beneath the surface of Zimbabwe’s fractured politics.
The final weeks of Geza’s life in Johannesburg were marked by a sense of impending doom. He had fled Zimbabwe claiming his life was in imminent danger, and his fears were not unfounded. Reports of Zimbabwean intelligence elements operating in South Africa have become increasingly common, with activists and exiles claiming they are being targeted in a “ruthless reputational warfare campaign.” The mysterious circumstances of his passing, followed by the government’s swift denial of any extraterritorial involvement, only add to the suspicion. Was Geza a victim of a ruthless political machine, or did the stress of exile simply take its toll?
This story uncovers the hidden cost of dissent in the “new dispensation.” It is a documentary-style deconstruction of a man who found himself caught between his past as a liberator and his present as a rebel. Blessed “Bombshell” Geza’s death is a stark reminder of the risks faced by those who dare to challenge the status quo. Whether he is buried at the Heroes Acre or in a quiet family plot, his legacy will continue to haunt the corridors of power in Harare. He was a man who, in the eyes of his supporters, “broke rank and lit the way,” challenging a crusade that many believe is leading the country toward a constitutional crisis.
As the debate over his hero status continues, the nation watches. For the war veterans who fought alongside him, Geza remains a symbol of a struggle that has yet to deliver on its promises. For the political elite, he is a cautionary tale of what happens when a loyalist turns rogue. But for the ordinary Zimbabwean, his story is a window into the hidden details of a power struggle that is shaping the future of the country. The dilemma for Mnangagwa is not just about a single man; it is about the soul of a party and the legitimacy of a regime that continues to grapple with the ghosts of its own making.
In the end, Blessed Geza’s journey from the bush of the liberation war to the lonely streets of exile in Johannesburg is a Zimbabwean tragedy. It is a tale of a revolution that has begun to consume its own children, where the line between hero and villain is drawn by the hand of the man in power. As we deconstruct the final chapters of his life, one thing remains clear: the silence of Blessed Geza is louder than his shouts ever were, and the questions surrounding his death will not be easily buried.
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