By Bekezela Mkonto KaMthwakazi
President Emmerson Mnangagwa last week fired Mines Minister Winston Chitando amid renewed corruption allegations.
No official reason was given and ironically few were surprised.
Chitando had led the mines ministry since 2017, following the military-assisted ousting of Robert Mugabe.
He served six years before being shifted to the ministry of local government in 2023 and then bounced back to Mines in 2024.
Last week, his run ended abruptly—like a miner realizing he just struck a rock instead of gold.
Chitando reportedly learned of his dismissal while attending a mining indaba in Masvingo.
Like the rest of the country, he found out through social media.
A modern tragedy to be honest True Patriots, fired online, no hero music, just a sad notification.
His fall opens the door for Polite Kambamura.
A mining engineer by training, Kambamura served as deputy minister in the same ministry for seven years.
He now promises sweeping reforms—because nothing says “change” like the same guy who watched everything go wrong for almost a decade.
Kambamura has long been linked to powerful networks within the state.
He has also been associated with allegations of claim manipulation and illicit mining deals.
None were tested while he was deputy minister.
Apparently, oversight is optional if you have the right friends.
At his swearing-in ceremony, he pledged to transform the mining sector.
He said Zimbabweans would no longer be treated as second-class citizens in their own resource economy.
A bold promise, indeed, from someone who spent seven years in the back row of the theatre.
The rhetoric was bold and of course the timing raised eyebrows.
For seven years, he was part of the system he now vows to fix.
He shaped policy from inside the ministry.
He did not challenge it publicly then.
Perhaps he was shy, or maybe the bribes were just too good.
The central question remains unanswered: what has changed now—besides the title on the office door?
But the challenges in Zimbabwe’s mining sector extend far beyond political reshuffles and domestic intrigues.
Across the country, Chinese-owned mining firms dominate extraction of gold, lithium, chrome, coal, and diamonds, often leaving communities at the mercy of environmental degradation and corporate overreach.
In other words, locals get the dust and drama, investors get the gold.
In Shurugwi, Chinese miner Chengxi Pvt Ltd has been accused of violent blasting that cracks houses, pollutes dust, damages roads, and threatens local water sources.
Residents report injuries from encounters with private security and fear for their safety.
One wonders if “blast first, ask questions never” is the company motto.
Further south, in Mberengwa and Filabusi, villagers describe how Chinese-backed chrome mining operations destroy grazing land, poison livestock, and bypass meaningful consultation with affected communities. Democracy, apparently, is optional in the mining contract.
In Mutasa District, around Premier Estate, gold mining has triggered complaints about dust pollution, water contamination, and forged environmental assessments, leaving locals struggling to protect both land and livelihoods. Forged papers seem to be more valuable than the gold itself.
True Patriots, in Gwanda South, lithium extraction has worsened water scarcity, forcing villagers to trek long distances for drinking water while rivers and boreholes run dry. A marathon for water—sponsored by corporate greed.
Even in Mutoko and Nyamakopa Village, black granite operations have evicted residents without compensation, polluted waterways, and delivered few of the promised community benefits.
Promises fulfilled are at zero percent and Broken hearts of course at 100 percent.
Small-scale miners, who once formed the backbone of rural economies, have watched their claims and opportunities shrink as large foreign operations expand.
Labour rights violations, weak environmental oversight, and lack of genuine community engagement persist as flashpoints for tension and resentment.
In many cases, bribes and political connections replace proper consultation, leaving ordinary Zimbabweans sidelined in decisions that affect their lives and lands.
Democracy apparently took a coffee break.
Into this toxic mix steps Kambamura, swearing that he will champion local interests and deliver reform.
Yet, for seven years, he was part of the very ministry now under his command, witnessing firsthand the exploitation of both resources and people.
He has now found his voice, or perhaps his microphone was finally working.
The promise to transform a sector riddled with entrenched corruption, foreign domination, and systemic neglect will require more than speeches.
Rhetoric is cheap and mining rights are not.
Zimbabweans will be watching closely to see whether Kambamura’s tenure heralds meaningful change—or simply another chapter in a long history of promises that fail to reach the communities who need them most.
In politics, as in mining, it seems the real gold is always elsewhere.
