By Cde Vhura Hombe
Veteran musician and war hero Clive Malunga has ignited political intrigue, boldly predicting that President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s grip on power will loosen by 2028—if not sooner, should Zimbabwe’s unpredictable political winds take an “unexpected” turn.
Malunga, better known for his liberation struggle contributions than political analysis, has not shied away from calling out Mnangagwa’s ambitions.
Describing the president’s 2030 aspirations as “wishful thinking,” he even speculates Mnangagwa might not last beyond 2026.
Naturally, Malunga’s remarks have left the patriotic faithful clutching their pearls.
In a fiery interview with opposition-linked Change Radio, Malunga minced no words:
“Only God Almighty knows one’s fate, not a fellow creature like Mnangagwa.
“Mr. Mnangagwa is not God. Stop the 2030 mantra, who knows, maybe he won’t even go beyond 2026,” he quipped, as if to remind us all that Zimbabwe’s political scene is as unpredictable as a poorly written soap opera.
Malunga’s dramatic stakes? If Mnangagwa stays in power beyond 2028, he promises to march straight to Chikurubi Maximum Prison.
Now, that’s dedication to a cause and what could be the most dramatic political performance since Nesango hit the airwaves.
But no Zimbabwean political drama is complete without a twist.
While Malunga is rallying against Mnangagwa’s 2030 agenda, he appears to have thrown his weight behind the president’s deputy, Constantino Chiwenga.
Rumors of a factional power struggle within Zanu PF have reached fever pitch, with the military allegedly backing Chiwenga to succeed Mnangagwa.
Malunga’s apparent alignment with Chiwenga has raised eyebrows.
Is he hedging his bets on a winning horse, or is this a musician-turned-activist simply trying to stay relevant in Zimbabwe’s political cacophony?
Still, Chiwenga’s faction comes with its own baggage, backing a leader who may be next in line to disappoint.
Nick Mangwana, the government’s motormouth and part-time riddler, wasted no time in taking a swipe at Malunga’s political dabbling.
In a thinly veiled jab, Mangwana tweeted:
Mangwana tweeted: “PUZZLE. We have had our fair share of washed-up musicians.”
“Some have had their prime. While others never even had a prime.
“Some tried to revive their careers by joining a Ruling Party faction.
“They joined the wrong one which lost contestation for power and now given to intermittent rants. Who is it,” tweeted Mangwana.
Subtle? Hardly. Accurate? Well, you decide.
Despite Mangwana’s digs, Malunga’s remarks have added fuel to an already burning factional fire.
Mnangagwa loyalists continue chanting the “2030” mantra as though it’s a guaranteed prophecy, while Chiwenga’s camp quietly sharpens its knives.
And on the sidelines, microphone in hand, Malunga appears ready to provide the soundtrack for the next chapter in Zimbabwe’s political drama.
Whether his predictions come to pass or end in a spectacular flop, one thing remains clear:
Zimbabwe’s political theater is as gripping as ever, complete with plot twists, shifting alliances, and, of course, a touch of musical nostalgia.
