Mai Chido has sold tomatoes on the same Harare street corner for eleven years. She knows the routine. A truck arrives. Whistles. Baskets overturned. She runs, comes back an hour later, sets up again. She has never called it harassment. A game with no winner, played every week, for over a decade. Versions of that same game are running right now in Bulawayo's Lobengula Street, in Mutare's Sakubva market, in Gweru's Kudzanai terminus. Different corners, same script. That script

Mai Chibaya has been queuing since 5:40am. She knows this because the man behind her checks his phone every ninety seconds and announces the time like a town crier nobody asked for. She does not need him. She has the queue in her bones.

Mai Chenesai is at her stall by five in the morning, before the frost has lifted off the roofs of Mbare. Her hands are cracked from the cold and from washing vegetables in water she carries from a communal tap. She wears two jerseys, a doek, and a blanket knotted at her waist like an apron.

Is the cliché "youth are the leaders of tomorrow" just a tool for infinite delay? Governance scholar Simbarashe Namusi breaks down Zimbabwe’s systemic succession crisis and argues for real decision-making power today.

Some months ago, I shared insights about post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). It was related to human interactions. My childhood PTSD emanated from interacting with an indigenous fruit called Matamba. The experience was so nasty that whenever I see Matamba, I get goosebumps. Little did I know that they must never be eaten until they are completely ripe. What’s your experience of eating Matamba? Hit our comments section and let’s feature your experience.

Old habit. For thirty years, she rose early to prepare before the neighbourhood stirred, before the children needed feeding, before the women gathered, before the day became communal property. The market used to open at six. She would be there before the best tomatoes were gone, before Maiguru Chipo claimed the prime spot near the entrance, before the real business of the morning began, not the buying and selling, but the talking. The catching up. The being known.

Not the toxic kind. Not the shame that silences victims or crushes confidence. The quiet kind. The kind that reminded us that our actions had consequences, that dignity mattered, that not everything belonged in the public square.

From boosting energy and hydration to supporting liver, kidney and digestive health, sugarcane juice offers more than just sweetness. Discover its benefits, risks and how to enjoy it safely

Zimbabwe's learners spend long days in classrooms, evenings on homework and weekends in extra lessons. But does more study time really mean better education, or are children losing something equally important in the process?

Whilst the COVID-19 era has come and gone, what lingers are horrific memories of our loved ones who succumbed to this global intruder. It caused scary and traumatic moments. When my mum and grandpa tested positive for COVID-19 in 2021, we urgently traveled over 100 km to assure them that it was just like any other disease and curable.

Customer service is more than politeness, it is about trust, competitiveness and economic growth. Yet many Zimbabweans continue to face poor service in businesses and public institutions. Simbarashe Namusi explores why.

We can dissect corruption in kombis, analyse economic policy in beer halls, and solve national crises in WhatsApp groups before breakfast. We know who stole what, who failed where, and which institution is collapsing next. In many ways, we have become experts at discussing what is wrong with the country.

For more than two decades, Zimbabwe has existed in a cycle of promise and disappointment. Every election season arrives with the language of national renewal and Zimbabwe's economic recovery. Every policy conference carries declarations of transformation. Every national crisis produces another conversation about “restoring the country.” Yet for millions of ordinary Zimbabweans, restoration has remained largely rhetorical, something passionately spoken about but rarely experie

Across South Africa, the United Kingdom, Australia, Canada, Botswana, the United States, and beyond, millions of Zimbabweans are building careers, businesses, and professional reputations in some of the world’s most competitive environments. They are nurses in the NHS, engineers in Johannesburg, lecturers in American universities, entrepreneurs in Perth, software developers in Cape Town, and creatives shaping global conversations online.

Zimbabwe does not suffer from a shortage of talent. It suffers from a shortage of systems capable of sustaining talent, a central issue in Zimbabwe's economic development and long-term national growth.

HARARE — Zimbabwe is no longer merely unequal it is becoming structurally divided. In Zimbabwe, wealth is visible, confident, and expanding. Luxury vehicles glide past fuel queues, exclusive estates rise behind high walls, and a new class of elites moves with the ease of those insulated from uncertainty. In the other, survival remains a daily negotiation, informal traders chasing shrinking margins, graduates navigating a job market that barely acknowledges them, and household

There is a generation in Zimbabwe’s economy and governance crisis that has never experienced a fully functional system. For them, inefficiency in Zimbabwe is not an interruption, it is the baseline.

HARARE — Zimbabwe is not standing still. That much is clear. The roads are busy. The bars are full. The WhatsApp groups never sleep. There is movement everywhere, economic, social, and political. Yet beneath that constant motion lies an uncomfortable question: are we moving forward, or just moving?

At any given moment in Zimbabwe, two things are almost guaranteed: someone is placing a sports bet, and someone is opening a drink. More often than not, it is the same person.

The Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe has announced the coming introduction of higher-quality ZiG banknotes with stronger paper, cleaner print, and longer durability in circulation. Technically, that sounds reassuring. A country’s currency should look respectable. Money carries national identity. But across shops, kombis and WhatsApp groups, the reaction has not been excitement. It has been a quieter question: Will the new notes last in the wallet or only in the pocket? Because in Zim