By Cde Nhamo Taneta

The National Prosecuting Authority (NPA) of Zimbabwe, specialists in chasing low-hanging fruit with Olympic-level gusto, broke into ululations last week after South Africa’s courts finally kicked Mary Mubaiwa’s Range Rovers and plush Pretoria pad into the forfeiture bin.

Justice JJ Strijdom handed down the ruling in December 2022, but true to form, Zimbabwe’s NPA only piped up last week — possibly after waking from a deep nap under someone’s desk.

Yes, that Mary — the former model, once madam to General VP Constantino Chiwenga, now downgraded to ex-VIP status with a property loss in Gauteng. 

While South Africa’s NPA did the actual legwork, Zimbabwe’s NPA showed up just in time to clap like an auntie catching the bouquet at a wedding.

“This case reflects the enduring partnership between the NPA of South Africa and its Zimbabwean counterpart,” they boasted — clearly describing the kind of partnership where one does the heavy lifting and the other takes a selfie with the prize.

The statement also insisted “no one is above the law.” Cute. But we all know what that really means, “no one without political sunscreen.”

Because if you’re rolling with the Presidential Office, rocking a “Gold Mafia” membership badge and being sanctified by Sunday State House brunches, the NPA wouldn’t touch you even if you laundered money in their parking lot.

Let’s talk about real crime.

Remember Al Jazeera’s Gold Mafia exposé? 

Four epic parts with more plot twists than a Nigerian super story. 

The documentary revealed a glittering web of gold smuggling, money laundering, and diplomatic immunity gone rogue.

Uebert Angel, the presidential envoy by day, spiritual forex trafficker by night was caught offering to move millions using diplomatic bags like its carry-on luggage. 

His sidekick Rikki Doolan, Henrietta Rushwaya, and a constellation of dodgy moguls — Kamlesh Pattni, Ewan Macmillan, Alistair Mathias, Simon Rudland, were all in the mix.

Gold was flying to Dubai faster than passport queues at the Registrar’s Office, with state systems greased and wallets fattened.

And the NPA?

Still investigating who stole a rusty tap in Highfield.

Meanwhile, Mary loses two Range Rovers. 

The NPA does a victory lap like they’ve just captured Pablo Escobar’s ghost, when really, they tripped a recently divorced woman on her way to Makro.

Let’s not forget Rushwaya, niece to the Big Man himself. 

She tried to waltz through the airport with 6kgs of gold like she was carrying a hot plate of sadza. 

Got fined just US$5,000 — less than the price of a coffin in Borrowdale.

Of course then there’s Obadiah “DJ Biscuit” Moyo, the former health minister turned COVID-19 tender crooner. 

Got caught dancing with millions meant for PPEs. 

Case vanished faster than fuel at a ZUPCO depot.

So, when the NPA says “no one is above the law,” read it like a Zimra receipt — it doesn’t mean what you think it means.

If your name isn’t in the ZANU PF Sunday lunch WhatsApp group, prepare to be a headline. But if you are? You’re safer than gold bars in a diplomatic pouch.

Maybe one day, the NPA will wake up and go after real mafia dons instead of recycled headlines.

Until then, we wait for Gold Mafia Season 2. At least Al Jazeera has the guts to follow the money.