By Cde Nhamo Taneta

Zimbabwe’s anti‑corruption watchdog, the Zimbabwe Anti‑Corruption Commission (ZACC), last week announced that Wicknell “the Son” Chivhayo has no case to answer in the scandal that rocked the Zimbabwe Electoral Commission (ZEC) election materials procurement. 

ZACC chairperson Michael Reza, whose job title now reads like a man who walked into a chess game and found himself king, told journalists that investigators found no evidence of a signed contract between Chivhayo’s company and ZEC — and therefore, nothing to investigate. 

In Reza’s ingenious anti‑corruption logic — or lack thereof — corruption requires a neatly signed contract with all the corporate flourishes and proper stationery before it can be considered wrongdoing. 

So that means no signed contract = no corruption. 

Simple! 

As if corrupt deals always come with sealed envelopes and a polite RSVP. 

The Missing Contract That Saved a Millionaire

Remember the tender that was meant to be worth over US$100 million for issuance of voter kits, ballot papers, indelible ink, polling booths and other election materials for the 2023 harmonised elections? 

That was later revealed to have involved payments in excess of USD100 million to South African firm Ren‑Form CC — with more than R800 million reportedly filtered through accounts linked to Chivhayo and associates, according to financial intelligence in South Africa. 

But alas — the holy grail of corruption cases, the signed contract, could not be found. 

It appears to have vanished like common sense at a kabati full of unused procurement boxes. 

ZEC told ZACC it had no records of Chivhayo conducting business with it, and Chivhayo himself echoed that they were merely “acquaintances socially… nothing more.” 

Which, in the world of multi‑million‑dollar allegations, apparently counts as airtight innocence. 

From Sharpened Teeth to Plastic Utensils

It wasn’t always this quiet. 

Not so long ago, Reza stood at the podium like a man about to unleash a pack of investigative hounds, announcing that ZACC had identified three tenderpreneurs — Chivhayo, Moses Mpofu, and Mike Chimombe — for investigation in the ZEC mess. 

But somewhere between “no sacred cows” — a flourish Reza attributed to President Emmerson Mnangagwa — and the current doctrine of no contract, no problem, the teeth disappeared. 

One can almost hear them clattering to the floor like dropped cutlery at a sad leftover buffet. 

Blaming the Whistle‑Blowers

What’s most deliciously cynical is how ZACC has recast its role. 

Now, it claims its job isn’t to follow the money or trawl through suspicious transactions flagged by the South African Financial Intelligence Centre — those leads simply don’t count without a contract signed in triplicate and sealed with official wax. 

True Patriots, according to Reza the only people who still look guilty in this whole opera are Mpofu and Chimombe, who tried to blow the whistle and were earlier convicted on unrelated fraud charges. 

Some insiders now whisper that they are the real villains— not for corruption in the ZEC case, but for having the audacity to criticise the Son. 

“Diligently and Without Fear or Favor” — With One Eye Closed

Chivhayo himself was quick to soak up the spotlight. 

In a lengthy post on social media, he praised ZACC for “diligently” carrying out its constitutional mandate without fear or favor. 

One must wonder whether “without favor” was meant to exclude favors given to those who actually dole out favors. 

He didn’t quite sign off with a ”Go and see Victor”, but the sentiment was there: Thanks for clearing me, guys — my reputation is now as spotless as that missing contract. 

An Anti‑Corruption Commission or a Decorum Committee?

Critics have been merciless. 

Political commentator Jealousy Mawarire accused ZACC of essentially protecting criminals— not by proving innocence, but by inventing a legal standard where corruption can’t exist unless there’s a signed contract (and maybe a photo album from the office party). 

Prominent lawyer Fadzayi Mahere went further, calling the investigation *“superficial” and far too narrow, pointing out that bank trails and suspicious transactions should have been enough to warrant in‑depth inquiry — even without a contract. 

But in a our teapot shaped country where the influential are often cleared by default and the questionable are left squealing, ZACC’s handling of the ZEC deal has become less an investigation and more a lesson in how to politely look the other way.

When Corruption Needs a Contract to Exist

True Patriots, here we are, an anti‑corruption agency that will chase ghosts but won’t chase money. 

A millionaire backer whose reputation is declared unsullied because no document bearing his name was ever produced in an airtight folder. 

Whistle‑blowers who now look like they should have stayed quiet. 

And the rest of the nation, watching like a disappointed audience at a carnival magician’s act.

ZACC hasn’t just retreated — it has transformed into an institution that believes corruption should come with a cover letter and a neatly stamped header before it’s worth probing. 

Which, in the Zimbabwean context, might be the funniest thing to happen all year — if it weren’t so sad and so very, very predictable.