HARARE — In the sterile, digital confines of a Zoom meeting that was supposed to be a mere formality, the backbone of Zimbabwe’s economic stability didn’t just bend; it snapped. John Musekiwa, the veteran Chief Executive Officer of ZIMASCO and the then-sitting President of the Chamber of Mines of Zimbabwe, did something no one in the high-stakes world of mineral diplomacy expected. He wept. Then, he walked away.
The date was May 28, 2024. To the uninitiated, it was just an Annual General Meeting (AGM) of the Chamber of Mines, an industry body that has historically been the steady hand on the tiller of the nation’s most vital sector. But for those 34 paid-up members watching their screens, it was the climax of a “hostile takeover” that has left the industry reeling. This was not a standard corporate transition; it was a coup d’état orchestrated by what insiders describe as an “invisible hand” reaching from the corridors of political power into the very heart of the private sector.
To understand why a seasoned executive like Musekiwa would break down in public, one must look beyond the boardroom and into the red soil of Zimbabwe’s lithium fields. The mining sector is the lifeblood of the Zimbabwean economy, accounting for over 60 per cent of the country’s export earnings. More importantly, it is the singular pillar supporting the ZiG, the nation’s latest attempt at a stable currency. Any tremor in the Chamber of Mines is felt directly in the pockets of every Zimbabwean, as the stability of the mining industry dictates the value of the currency used to buy bread and fuel.
Investigations have revealed that the “tears of a veteran” were not shed out of weakness, but out of a profound sense of betrayal and the weight of immense, unseen pressure. Sources close to the proceedings suggest a level of coercion and intimidation that transcends standard corporate politics. “The intervention came as a surprise because, traditionally, the top three never go through an election after uncontested nomination, even though this is something that is provided for in the constitution,” said a senior mining industry executive who attended the meeting.
The script for this drama was written long before the Zoom link was sent out. Traditionally, the Chamber’s leadership follows a predictable, three-tiered succession plan. The president and his two deputies serve two consecutive one-year terms. The first vice president eventually ascends to the presidency, with the second vice president moving up behind him. Musekiwa, along with his first vice president Munashe Shava (administrator of Hwange Colliery) and second vice president Fungai Makoni (managing director of MIMOSA), had all been nominated three weeks prior. In any other year, their endorsement would have taken ten minutes.
However, the “mineral mafia” — a term now whispered with increasing frequency in Harare’s financial circles — had other plans. As soon as the endorsements were put to the floor, a past president of the Chamber, acting as the vanguard for this new interest group, intervened. He demanded that each candidate be voted on individually. The preparation for this “unusual occurrence” was tellingly thorough; lawyers were already on standby to provide legal justification for the move, and auditors were mysteriously present before they were even requested.
“The lawyers were ready to explain this unusual occurrence,” the executive added. “Someone raised questions about logistics for the elections, such as the need for auditors, but to our surprise auditors were present, and this was also odd.”
When Musekiwa was put to the vote, he was endorsed. It should have ended there. But the past president intervened again, insisting that Musekiwa be given the opportunity to accept or decline the very endorsement he had sought. It was at this moment that the pressure became unbearable. Musekiwa broke down, with his voice cracking as he declined the post, citing “health reasons”. The “million-dollar question,” as one source put it, is why a man who had already accepted the nomination would wait until the very second of his confirmation to withdraw.
The vacuum created by Musekiwa’s exit was immediately exploited. In a move that shattered the Chamber’s long-standing succession traditions, Fungai Makoni was catapulted into the presidency, bypassing the first vice president, Munashe Shava. The ensuing election between Shava and Makoni was described by witnesses as “chaotic” and “manipulated.” What should have been a brief procedural step dragged on for 45 minutes as an aggressive de-campaigning effort against Shava took place in real-time.
“We have established that people who had voted in a certain way were coerced to change their positions, and they rewrote emails indicating that they were switching candidates,” one executive revealed. “Initially, they said voting would be done through a show of hands, but some were uncomfortable and eventually it was decided that voting would happen through email.” This shift to email voting allowed for a frantic, behind-the-scenes lobbying effort orchestrated by an executive from one of the country’s leading platinum miners, aimed squarely at ensuring Shava did not ascend to the top spot.
Why was Shava targeted? And why was Musekiwa forced out? The answer lies in the “new gold” — lithium and rare earth minerals. Zimbabwe possesses the largest lithium reserves in Africa, a resource essential for the global transition to green energy and electric vehicles. However, this wealth has attracted aggressive syndicates involving politically connected elites and private interests. These “political heavyweights”, though not always visible on the Zoom screen, were reportedly seen in the hallways of the physical locations where key members were voting, ensuring the “correct” outcome was achieved.
These syndicates are not interested in the long-term stability of the Chamber or the ZiG currency. They are interested in control. By installing a leadership more amenable to their interests, they can influence policy, secure mining claims, and bypass the regulatory frameworks that the Chamber of Mines has traditionally fought to uphold. The “invisible hand” is reaching for the minerals that will dictate the future of the global economy, and the Chamber of Mines was simply an obstacle in its path.
The fallout from this “hostile takeover” has been swift. Munashe Shava, realizing that the process had been fundamentally compromised, subsequently resigned from his position as first vice president. The Chamber, once a bastion of corporate governance, is now led by a president whose ascent is clouded by allegations of manipulation and coercion. Both Musekiwa and Shava have declined to comment on the record, a silence that speaks volumes in a country where speaking out against the “mineral mafia” can have dire consequences for one’s career and personal safety.
The implications for the average Zimbabwean are profound. The Chamber of Mines is responsible for negotiating with the government on issues of taxation, royalties, and the mandatory conversion of export earnings into the local ZiG currency. If the Chamber is captured by interests that prioritize the looting of lithium over the stability of the sector, the ZiG will lose its primary support. When the mining sector coughs, the entire Zimbabwean economy catches pneumonia. The greed and betrayal witnessed during this AGM are not just boardroom dramas; they are threats to the food security and financial survival of millions.
As the Annual Mining Conference and Exhibition opens in Victoria Falls, Fungai Makoni will take the stage as the new president. He will speak of growth, investment, and the bright future of Zimbabwean mining. But behind the polished presentations and the luxury of the resort town, the ghost of John Musekiwa’s tears will haunt the proceedings. The industry knows that the “mineral mafia” has won this round. The high price of standing in the way of these syndicates has been laid bare for all to see.
This investigation suggests that the Chamber of Mines is no longer the independent voice of the industry. It has become a theatre where the “invisible hand” of power plays out its most ruthless scripts. The “new gold” of lithium has brought with it an old brand of corruption, one that threatens to hollow out the very institutions meant to protect the nation’s wealth. For the people of Zimbabwe, the drama in that online meeting was a warning: the future of their economy is being auctioned off behind closed doors, and the price is being paid in the tears of those who dared to stand in the way.