Data Heist: The Hidden Reason Why NetOne Tried to Kill Your Off-Peak Bundles… and Then Apologised

HARARE — At the newly commissioned Parliament Building in Mt Hampden, the air was thick with the rhetoric of a digital revolution. On 13 March 2026, President Emmerson Mnangagwa officially launched the National Artificial Intelligence (AI) Strategy for 2026–2030, a 73-page document promising to harness the power of machine learning and “inclusive digital transformation” to modernise the Zimbabwean economy. The Minister of ICT, Tatenda Mavetera, spoke glowingly of “Education 5.0” and a future where every citizen is a digital native. Yet, less than twenty miles away in the bustling streets of Harare, a far more primitive reality was unfolding. While the government dreamt of algorithms and automated efficiency, millions of Zimbabweans were engaged in a desperate, manual struggle: waking up at 1:00 AM just to use the internet data they had already paid for.

The recent attempt by NetOne, the state-owned telecommunications giant, to overhaul its popular “Mo’Gigs” data bundles has exposed a predatory practice that consumer advocates are now calling a systematic “Data Heist.” By splitting previously anytime data into “Peak” and “Off-Peak” windows, the operator effectively stripped consumers of their digital autonomy. The technical manipulation was simple yet devastating: a $30 monthly bundle that once offered 30 GB of flexible, anytime access was suddenly partitioned. Under the new regime, 5 GB was restricted to an “Off-Peak” window between 1:00 AM and 7:00 AM—a time when the vast majority of the population is asleep.

“NetOne should stop pretending this is about efficiency. It’s about squeezing more money from struggling citizens,” one frustrated subscriber wrote on X, formerly Twitter, as the hashtag #NetOneRobbery began to trend. Another user added, “They are now forcing us to wake up at 1 AM to use data we paid for. That’s not customer care—that’s contempt.” These were not isolated grumbles; they were the opening salvos of a national outcry that eventually forced the Consumer Council of Zimbabwe (CCZ) to step in. In a strongly-worded letter dated 21 January 2026, the CCZ formally accused NetOne of “unfair and misleading” practices, stating that consumers were being charged the full price for data that was largely “unusable.”

The technical “back-end” secrets of this pricing model reveal a sinister logic. By shunting a significant portion of data into the early hours of the morning, telecoms providers can claim to offer high-volume bundles at competitive prices while knowing that the actual network utilisation will remain low. It is a form of “ghost data”—it exists on the balance sheet and in the marketing brochures, but rarely in the user’s browser. This allows providers to charge full price for restricted access, effectively widening the digital divide in a country where internet affordability is already a luxury.

The “apology” eventually issued by NetOne, followed by a tactical reversal, hides a deeper institutional rot. On 26 February 2026, the company announced it would adjust its off-peak hours to run from 10:00 PM to 5:00 AM, replacing the previous 1:00 AM to 7:00 AM schedule. While NetOne claimed this “customer-first adjustment” was designed to “better reflect how customers now use data,” insiders suggest it was a desperate move to quell a brewing rebellion. The company’s official statement noted: “This customer-first adjustment allows more Zimbabweans to take advantage of affordable internet for overnight downloads, updates and entertainment.” However, for many, the shift from 1:00 AM to 10:00 PM is merely a cosmetic change to a fundamentally flawed product.

Behind the scenes, NetOne has been rocked by scandals that suggest the “Data Heist” is just the tip of the iceberg. In March 2026, the company’s Chief Commercial Officer, Learnmore Masunda, was suspended without benefits following an investigation that uncovered ten charges of misconduct. The allegations are harrowing: documents suggest Masunda issued death threats to three individuals, including a member of the Zimbabwe Republic Police (ZRP), and even entered company premises while armed with a firearm. This boardroom chaos, combined with reports of a $566 million airtime fraud syndicate and executives “on the run” from $10 million corruption scandals, paints a picture of an organisation in freefall.

The reality of the Zimbabwean telecoms landscape is one of vanishing data and soaring profits. While NetOne and its rival, Econet Wireless, report millions in revenue, the quality of service continues to plummet. The Postal and Telecommunications Regulatory Authority of Zimbabwe (POTRAZ) has repeatedly flagged poor internet speeds, dropped calls, and limited 4G coverage outside major cities. In July 2025, a similar controversy erupted when Econet silently reduced the value of its SmartBiz data packages by 80% while maintaining the same $45 monthly price. This pattern of “silent implementation” and “technical jargon” has become the standard operating procedure for the nation’s giants.

The government’s AI Strategy launch, held with much fanfare, seems almost surreal when contrasted with these ground-level struggles. The strategy document prioritises “AI literacy and capability development from primary school,” yet how can a child in rural Binga learn about neural networks when their parents cannot afford the data to load a basic webpage? According to the International Telecommunication Union (ITU), nearly 25% of Africa’s population lacks mobile broadband coverage, and in Zimbabwe, high costs remain the primary barrier to adoption. The “inclusive digital transformation” promised by the President remains an elusive dream for those trapped on the wrong side of the digital divide.

The technical manipulations behind “unusable” bundles are not just about a change in schedule; they are a direct assault on the economic potential of the citizenry. Students, content creators, and small business owners are the hardest hit. “They are now forcing us to plan our lives around their network capacity,” says one Harare-based graphic designer. “If I want to upload a portfolio, I have to set an alarm for 2 AM. This isn’t innovation; it’s exploitation.” The use of “off-peak” windows as a way to charge full price for restricted access is a clear indication that service providers view their customers not as partners in development, but as targets for extraction.

As the investigative light shines brighter on the “Data Heist,” it becomes clear that the reversal of the off-peak hours was not an act of corporate benevolence. It was a calculated retreat in the face of a consumer base that is finally beginning to push back. The CCZ’s intervention was a critical first step, but the “back-end” secrets of data pricing remain shrouded in mystery. Without genuine reform, transparency, and a regulatory body with the teeth to punish these “technical challenges,” the digital divide in Zimbabwe will only continue to grow. For now, the citizens of Zimbabwe remain caught between the lofty promises of an AI-driven future and the grim reality of a telecoms industry that seems more interested in “daylight robbery” than digital inclusion.

“NetOne’s revamped Mo’Gigs bundles now offer Peak and Off-Peak data. This allows you to separate your essential, daytime data needs from your heavy, non-urgent data activities, helping you stretch your data budget further,” the company had initially claimed.

But for the millions of Zimbabweans who saw their data vanish into the “off-peak” void, the only thing being stretched was their patience. The “Data Heist” is not just a story about megabytes and gigabytes; it is a story about the fundamental right to access the modern world—a right that is currently being sold back to the people, one unusable hour at a time.

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