“The People, The People, The People”: The Mantra of a ZANU-PF Prodigy

By Jonathan Mbiriyamveka

The sun beat down on the dusty grounds of Mbare, but the heat was no match for the fervour generated by the man on the makeshift stage.

Voyage Dambuza, the ZANU-PF Harare Provincial Political Commissar, was in his element. To the party’s commissariat structures, his ability to draw such large, vibrant crowds to these inter-district feedback meetings was nothing short of historic.

In Harare, an traditional opposition stronghold, it was a phenomenon.

Later, in a sparsely furnished office, Dambuza explained the machinery behind the spectacle. His role, as he saw it, was threefold: chief mobilizer, chief reconciler, and chief conduit for a very specific message.

“If you understand the role that the Provincial Commissar has, I am the chairman of the conflict resolution in the province,” he began, deftly swatting away the notion of internal strife.

“So for me to say, I handle factional issues in ZANU-PF, there are not factional issues. In ZANU-PF we disagree to agree . . . That’s why we have never lost elections since 1980 because we have mechanisms in place.”

His words painted a picture of a perfectly self-correcting political organism, where any disagreement was smoothly processed by the system, with Dambuza as its chief technician.

“It is my duty and role to make sure that I bring all the people who are disagreeing over any issue and we agree to a certain conclusion, then we move forward as a united force.”

This unity, he argued, was forged in the peaceful crucible of the 2023 elections. “There was no violence, no intimidation. People voted peacefully in 2023.

There were no issues or matters of political violence because the President was clear, no to political violence.”

It was a stark claim, one that stood in contrast to the reports of many independent observers, but it was a cornerstone of his narrative: a stable, unified party presiding over a stable, unified nation.

The core of Dambuza’s mobilizing success, however, lay in his message, a mantra he repeated with liturgical precision.

“The message that I will deliver, I’ll say that what the President is doing . . . and what the President has in his vision 2030. His vision in 2030, it’s not only about the people, but also about the people, the people, the people, the people, the people.”

This relentless focus on “the people” was coupled with a blunt, materialistic promise tailored for the struggling urban populace.

“I think much with urban communities is Pasi nenhamo, Pasi nenzzara, Pamberi nemari muhomwe (Down with poverty, Down with hunger, Forward with money in the pocket),” he stated, coining what he called the themes that align with “Fisheries Benefits.”

But what did success look like? For the youth he sought to attract, Dambuza offered a very clear picture. “Most of our youth, young boys and girls . . . they look as role models like Scott Sakupwanya, Wicknell Chivayo, Kudakwashe Tagwirei.

“Those are black entrepreneurs. We have made it. After they’ve been given opportunities by the government.”

The message was potent: support ZANU-PF out of ideological fervour, and for the chance to become the next tycoon.

“So, if you look at the youth of today, they would rather support ZANU PF and be like Scott Sakupwanya in the future. They would rather support ZANU PF and be like Wicknell Chivayo in the future.”

When asked about his own remarkable grounding with the people, a flicker of pride broke through his political script.

“I don’t think I am grounded or I need to do anything else . . . to say the PC and the people are one thing that is the correct that my name is associated with that.”

He described his leadership style without irony:

“My leadership style is a political communist, I am the chief mobilizer for our metropolitan province and I can only say I am one of the best mobilizers and a very useful mobilizer.”

In Voyage Dambuza, ZANU-PF had found a potent operator for a new era. He was not just a commissar of the old school, dealing in threats and rhetoric.

He was a salesman of stability, unity, and personal enrichment, a man who understood that in a hungry city, the most powerful ideology is the promise of money in the pocket, and the most compelling role models are those who have already, ostensibly, received the state’s blessing.

He was the friendly, determined face of a party insisting it was the only viable path forward, building his crowds one ambitious dream at a time.

About Author