A disability disclosure field on a government recruitment portal is a start, but true inclusion requires accessible applications, reasonable accommodation and fair interviews.

A hailstorm in Masvingo has drawn attention to the vulnerability of historical records, raising questions about how Zimbabwe protects the documents communities may need to establish claims and understand their past.

The dearth is real. Books are scarce, libraries are scarce, quiet time is scarce, and so is the belief that a mind trained on hard material will be worth anything. The death follows from that. A habit that is never rewarded does not survive a generation.

Tendai drives a school omnibus along Samora Machel Avenue. He stops at red lights. Most mornings he is the only one who does. Last week a black SUV with tinted windows, no siren and no escort, went through the junction. Two motorbikes followed. Then a taxi. Then Tendai's conductor asked, in Shona, who would catch them. Tendai did not need an answer. Everyone at that junction already had one. We are told we have become undisciplined. Pitch invasions. Stampedes at stadium gates

A wheelchair can restore mobility, but for many people with disabilities, meaningful inclusion also requires access to education, employment and economic opportunity.

Media expert Simbarashe Namusi critiques Zimbabwe’s cyclical urban clean-up campaigns, arguing that displacing vendors like Mai Chiedza treats symptoms rather than structural economic issues.

By Simbarashe Namusi Editor's Note: This is the second and final article in a two-part series on living and working with a disability in Zimbabwe. I have been qualified for jobs I never got. Not because I failed the interviews. Not because I failed the tests. Sometimes I suspect I failed something that was never written on the assessment form, the visual test of whether I looked like the person they had imagined doing the job. About ten years ago, I attended an interview with

Media expert Simbarashe Namusi examines the lack of consequence culture in Zimbabwe's public institutions, highlighting unresolved Auditor-General findings and recent public safety failures.

The regulators know all this. Circulars get issued. Licenses get revoked. Blitzes get announced with the appropriate stern language about the full force of the law. Doc is back at the corner the following week, because enforcement without alternative is just a temporary interruption of an economic necessity, the same way the illegal bus terminus behind him reopens within hours of every council crackdown.

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.