HARARE — In the dusty, narrow corridors of Mbare’s dilapidated hostels and the parched, forgotten plots of rural Macheke, a silent tragedy is unfolding. The men and women who once carried the weight of a nation’s liberation on their shoulders are dying. They are not falling to the slow, predictable march of old age, but to a ruthless combination of systemic neglect, crushing poverty, and a bureaucratic machine that seems designed to wait for them to expire.
While the ruling elite in Harare gather in air-conditioned halls to toast to the “living history” of the liberation struggle, the actual authors of that history are being buried in “pauper’s graves.” Our investigation reveals a shocking reality: a surge in deaths among ex-combatants that has sounded an alarm even within the corridors of power, exposing the moral rot at the heart of the Zimbabwean state.
The View from the Ruins
To understand the depth of this betrayal, one must look past the patriotic rhetoric of Independence Day. In the settlement of Macheke, we visited the home of Comrade Murambiwa Mujuru, known during the bush war as “Amigo Madenyika.” For 44 years, the man who fought for the land lived in what he described as “squalor.”
“I had resigned to fate,” Mujuru told us, his voice raspy with the weight of decades of disappointment. “For more than 44 years, I had not been recognised for the sacrifice I made to liberate this country. I was living with a leaking roof, wondering if the nation had forgotten the blood we shed.”
Mujuru was one of the “lucky” ones. In March 2025, he was handed the keys to a modern, solar-powered house under a new Presidential scheme. But for every Mujuru, there are thousands of others still waiting in the shadows, their health failing as they navigate a bureaucratic nightmare that prevents them from accessing their rightful dues.
The Tragedy of Cde Bombshell
Nowhere is the complexity of this neglect more visible than in the recent passing of Blessed Runesu Geza, the fiery former Sanyati Member of Parliament popularly known as “Cde Bombshell.” Geza, a former member of the Zanu PF Central Committee, died in exile in South Africa on 6 February 2026, after a long battle with cancer. His death in a foreign land, away from the country he fought to liberate, has become a symbol of the “discarded hero.”
Geza’s burial, which took place on 16 February 2026, at his homestead at Chenjiri Farm in Sanyati, was a somber affair that drew hundreds of mourners. Despite being declared a liberation war hero by the state, Geza’s final years were marked by a bitter fallout with the very party he helped bring to power. After launching scathing attacks against President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s bid to extend his presidential term, Geza was expelled from the party in March 2025 and faced multiple criminal charges, forcing him into a life of exile and illness.
As the hearse carrying “Cde Bombshell” moved through the dusty roads of Sanyati, the mood was one of quiet defiance. For many veterans present, Geza’s fate—dying in exile while battling a preventable illness—mirrored their own fears.
A Surge in the Shadows
The numbers are difficult to ignore. Douglas Mahiya, the ZANU PF national secretary for war veterans, recently broke the silence during a gathering in Harare. His words were uncharacteristically blunt for a man embedded in the party hierarchy.
“I am worried about the rate at which we war veterans are dying,” Mahiya stated. “This is alarming and calls for urgent intervention.”
Mahiya is currently preparing a comprehensive report for the Ministry of Defence, but for many, the intervention is already too late. Our investigation found that the surge in deaths is closely linked to a total collapse in medical support. Many veterans are succumbing to preventable illnesses—hypertension, diabetes, and respiratory infections—simply because they cannot afford the “co-payment” required at government hospitals or the cost of basic medication.
Zimbabwe has lost dozens of war veterans in recent years, including serving and retired army generals, some of whom played key roles in the ouster of the late former President Robert Mugabe during the November 2017 military intervention. Many of the deceased were liberation war fighters who participated in Zimbabwe’s independence struggle that culminated in independence in 1980. Several others have been declared national heroes and heroines and buried at various shrines across the country.
The “Selective Support” Machine
Perhaps the most galling aspect of this crisis is the whisper of “selective support.” In the bars of Bulawayo and the markets of Gweru, veterans speak in hushed tones about a system where benefits are used as a political leash.
Those who remain vocal supporters of the current regime, attending every rally and praising the “New Dispensation,” often find their paperwork processed with suspicious speed. Meanwhile, those who have dared to question the slow pace of reform or the transparency of the Veterans’ Fund find themselves trapped in an endless cycle of “missing files” and “pending approvals.”
A high-ranking veteran, speaking on condition of anonymity for fear of losing his meagre pension, described the system as “vicious.”
“They want us to be grateful for crumbs while they feast on the loaf,” he said. “If you don’t sing the right songs, your medical aid card becomes a useless piece of plastic. We fought for a country, not a cult. But now, if you are not politically ‘correct,’ you are discarded like a used cartridge.”
The Zimbabwe National Liberation War Veterans Association (ZNLWVA) accuses the government and the ruling Zanu PF party of focusing on internal political struggles while neglecting the welfare of ex-combatants. Mahiya’s remarks reflect growing frustration within the war veterans’ community, many of whom have long complained about deteriorating living conditions. Reports indicate that several veterans are living in poverty, with some unable to afford school fees for their children or meet basic household needs.
The Bureaucratic Nightmare
For the average ex-combatant, accessing the benefits enshrined in the constitution is a Herculean task. The process involves multiple layers of vetting, much of which is conducted in centres that are inaccessible to the elderly and the infirm.
In Matobo North, reports emerged of veterans failing to reach vetting centres because of the rugged terrain and a lack of transport. “A lot of our comrades were not vetted in Matobo North,” one local leader lamented. “The area is not easily accessible, and people failed to reach the vetting centres on time. Now, they are excluded from the system entirely.”
Even for those who are vetted, the financial support is often a pittance. With Zimbabwe’s economy plagued by hyperinflation and the frequent introduction of new currencies, monthly pensions that looked substantial on paper are reduced to the value of a few loaves of bread by the time they are withdrawn.
Mahiya said he was preparing a comprehensive report for submission to Defence minister Oppah Muchinguri-Kashiri and other senior Zanu PF leadership structures. He said the initiative aligned with President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s agenda of party renewal, modernisation and social justice for marginalised groups. He praised Mnangagwa’s appointment of Tungwarara as a presidential adviser on war veterans’ affairs, saying it demonstrated commitment to improving their welfare.
“Adviser Tungwarara works tirelessly for our cause. Through our President’s support, he will help to ensure our veterans’ needs are prioritised,” he said.
The Medical Predicament
In an interview with NewsDay, ZNLWVA secretary-general Sam Parerenyatwa said efforts to engage the government over veterans’ welfare had largely gone unanswered.
“We are greatly concerned. It looks like the nation is turning a blind eye to the medical predicament of the men and women who brought about the independence the nation so much cherishes,” he said.
“There is no funding for medication from Treasury to the ministry responsible for veterans’ affairs. We have tried to engage the government, but no one seems to be listening. Veterans are dying at home without medical support. The nation has forsaken its gallant fighters.”
Parerenyatwa added that many war veterans were suffering from untreated post-traumatic stress disorder, worsened by poverty and social neglect. This is a psychological scar that has been left to fester for over four decades, with no institutional support to help these men and women reintegrate into a society that seems increasingly indifferent to their pain.
The Social Impact of Losing “Living History”
Beyond the individual tragedies lies a broader national loss. Zimbabwe is losing its “living history” at an accelerated rate. These veterans are the last witnesses to the birth of the nation, the keepers of stories that are not found in the sanitised textbooks of the state.
“When a war veteran dies in poverty, a library burns down,” says a local historian. “But in Zimbabwe, it feels like the government is holding the match. By letting these people die in squalor, the state is effectively erasing the parts of the liberation story that don’t fit the current narrative of luxury and success.”
The social impact extends to the families left behind. Children of veterans, who are constitutionally entitled to educational support, often find themselves chased away from schools because the government has failed to remit fees to the institutions. This creates a cycle of intergenerational poverty that mocks the very idea of “liberation.”
The “pauper’s graves” that now house many of these heroes are a testament to the nation’s failure. While the leaders they helped bring to power feast on the finest delicacies, the men who fought the battles are often buried without even a simple headstone to mark their passing. This is not just a financial failure; it is a moral one.
The Moral Rot
The contrast between the lives of the veterans and the ruling elite is stark. While ex-combatants are buried in unmarked graves, the leaders they helped bring to power are seen in the latest German SUVs, their children attending elite schools abroad.
The Ministry of Veterans of the Liberation Struggle Affairs, led by Monica Mavhunga, has recently announced plans to “enhance” medical and funeral benefits. But to the veterans on the ground, these are “empty promises” designed to quieten the growing unrest ahead of the next political cycle.
“They talk about ’empowerment’ and ‘Vision 2030,'” says a veteran in Mutare, pointing to his tattered boots. “But I cannot eat a vision. I cannot treat my malaria with a blueprint. They have forgotten the blood that was shed for their luxury.”
Muchinguri-Kashiri, who is also Zanu PF national chairperson, acknowledged the concerns and said her office would receive and review the forthcoming report. “I have heard your concerns. We will review your report thoroughly and take appropriate action,” she said. However, for many veterans, “appropriate action” has been a promise deferred for forty years.
A Call for Justice
The crisis facing Zimbabwe’s war veterans is not a result of a lack of resources, but a lack of political will. The nation has the means to provide for its heroes; it simply chooses to prioritise the comfort of the few over the dignity of the many.
As the death toll continues to rise, the uncomfortable question remains: Has the ruling elite truly forgotten the sacrifices made in the bush? Or is the “sudden surge” in deaths a convenient solution to a group of people who remember a time when the struggle was about the people, not the profits?
The systemic neglect is not an accident; it is a policy of attrition. By allowing the veterans to die in poverty, the state is slowly removing the most potent critics of its current failures. These men and women know what the revolution was supposed to be, and their presence is a constant reminder of how far the current leadership has strayed from those ideals.
Through the documentary lens of this investigation, the truth is clear. The heroes of Zimbabwe are being discarded. They are being buried in silence, their voices stifled by poverty and their contributions ignored by a state that has lost its moral compass. Until there is a fundamental shift in how the nation treats its liberators, the “patriotic rhetoric” of Harare will remain nothing more than a hollow echo in a graveyard of forgotten dreams.
The Future of the Struggle
What becomes of a nation that devours its own history? As the last of the liberation generation passes away, Zimbabwe faces an identity crisis. The values of the struggle—equality, justice, and land for all—are being replaced by a culture of greed and patronage.
The veterans who remain are not just fighting for their pensions; they are fighting for the soul of the nation. They are demanding that the promises of 1980 be fulfilled, not just for themselves, but for all Zimbabweans who still live under the shadow of poverty.
“We didn’t fight for ourselves,” says a veteran in Gweru. “We fought for the future. But if this is the future, then what was the point of the blood we shed? We are dying, yes, but our spirit will not be buried in a pauper’s grave. The truth will outlive the politicians.”
As the sun sets over the hills of Mashonaland, the silence in the veterans’ homes is deafening. It is the silence of a nation that has turned its back on its own. But in that silence, there is a growing storm of resentment that no amount of patriotic music or “empowerment schemes” can quiet. The forgotten heroes are finally speaking, and the world is starting to listen.
Detailed Analysis of the “Bureaucratic Nightmare”
The process for a veteran to receive benefits is intentionally opaque. It begins with “vetting,” a process that has been reopened multiple times over the decades, often coinciding with election cycles. Veterans must provide proof of their service, which is difficult for those who served in remote areas or whose records were lost in the chaos of the war.
Once vetted, the veteran must navigate the Ministry of Veterans of the Liberation Struggle Affairs. Here, files are frequently “lost,” and officials often demand “incentives” to move paperwork along. For a veteran living on a few dollars a month, these bribes are impossible to pay.
Furthermore, the “medical aid” promised to veterans is often rejected by private and even public clinics because the government has not paid its bills to the service providers. This leaves the veterans in a “medical limbo,” where they have a card that says they are covered, but no doctor who will treat them.
The Moral Responsibility of the State
Under the Constitution of Zimbabwe, Section 23, the state is mandated to “take all practical measures, including legislative measures, to ensure that appropriate consideration and assistance is given to veterans of the liberation struggle.” The current reality is a flagrant violation of this constitutional mandate.
The state’s failure is not just one of administration; it is a failure of gratitude. Every freedom enjoyed by the current leadership was bought with the blood and youth of these veterans. To leave them to die in poverty is the ultimate act of betrayal.
