By Munyaradzi Hwengwere
He didn’t come on stage until 2am, but not a soul left. Because when Winky D finally graced the mic, something spiritual happened.
It wasn’t just a show. It was a sermon. An unspoken gospel of hope. As he sang of struggle, dreams, corruption, and survival, thousands of young voices joined in, lyric for lyric, emotion for emotion. This wasn’t fandom. This was family. This was therapy.
He was introduced as “Baba”—a father figure in a land where many youths feel orphaned by systems that no longer speak their language.
On that night, Gweru found its church. Its preacher? Dressed in urban threads, not a collar.
Meanwhile, miles away, business executives were teeing off at a Golf Fundraiser. Nothing wrong with that, but as Munyaradzi Hwengwere, one of the attendees, later asked:
Are we really in touch with our youths? Because while clubs swung in silence on manicured greens, basslines and choruses shook the red earth of Gweru.
And it’s not just Winky D. Killer T, Freeman, and a growing army of youthful voices are proving something every weekend: The youth are not disengaged. They are just not being engaged in the right way.
They crave more than jobs—they crave relevance, connection, respect. They are digital natives in a land of analog systems.
They are creative hustlers stuck in a transactional economy. And when they show up in thousands, patiently queuing with anticipation, we must ask: What are they really seeking?
Maybe it’s not just entertainment. Maybe it’s identity. Maybe it’s hope.
So here’s the message for Zimbabwe’s policymakers, corporates, and planners: if you want to understand the youth, meet them where they are. Not just on social media—but in their music, their art, their vibe.
The Midlands Show might have been branded agricultural, but what bloomed this weekend was something deeper: a youth movement, hungry for belonging.
And if you still don’t get it?
Go to a Winky D concert.
Then ask again: Are we really connecting with our youth?
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