Bryden Country School vs. a Cement Plant Next Door: When Environmental Law Becomes Optional

The cement plant near proximity to the school (image source)

Bryden Country School, a long-established private school in Mashonaland West, is fighting for air—literally. Just 490–500 metres from its classrooms, a Chinese-owned firm, Shuntai Investments (Pvt) Ltd, has been pushing ahead with a cement and lime operation that parents, teachers, and local stakeholders say would blanket the campus in dust, noise, and truck traffic. A High Court order in March halted construction. Yet in July, a judge visiting the site found the company in contempt after work appeared to continue, and last week Shuntai was fined US$10,000 for defying the order—pocket change compared to what’s at stake for children’s health.

The school argues that the Environmental Management Agency (EMA) granted approval on the back of a contested Environmental and Social Impact Assessment. Bryden challenged the regulator to produce the basis for its certificate; when the papers emerged, they were essentially the same disputed report. That sequence has left parents incredulous: how does a plant that emits particulate matter, sulphur dioxide and nitrogen oxides, and handles corrosive lime kiln dust, get a green light next to a learning environment?

There’s science behind the alarm. Peer-reviewed work links cement-plant exposure with higher respiratory symptoms and lung-function decline in nearby populations; studies of schoolchildren show bioaccumulation of toxic metals in those attending schools downwind of plants. Lime kiln dust—rich in calcium oxide—can cause severe eye and skin burns and respiratory irritation, and several Safety Data Sheets warn of cancer risks from crystalline silica. This is not theoretical risk; it’s textbook industrial hygiene.

Even the US EPA’s enforcement summaries, aimed at a very different regulatory context, flag cement plants as sources of SO₂ and fine particles that worsen asthma and cardiovascular disease—especially for sensitive groups like children. Zimbabwe’s classrooms are no different; lungs are lungs.

If Chegutu sounds familiar, it’s because we’ve seen this movie before. In Shurugwi, the iconic Boterekwa escarpment has been pounded by mining—much of it tied to Chinese-owned operations and artisanal syndicates—leaving a scarred landscape, damaged roads, and a community asking how a national beauty spot became a quarry. Conservationists and local media have documented the degradation for years; more recent reporting describes blasting under and around the scenic road and the broader pattern of pollution and water risks. The thread that ties Chegutu to Shurugwi is permissiveness: projects move faster than oversight, and penalties—when they come—don’t bite.

Back at Bryden, the practical health hazards begin with dust. It penetrates classrooms and dorms, aggravating asthma, triggering absences, and, over time, reducing lung function. Alkaline lime dust can cause chemical burns with moisture (sweat, tears), and chronic exposure is linked to nasal septum damage. Add diesel trucks, blasting vibrations, and kiln noise, and you have an educational environment that looks and feels like an industrial zone.

This is not an anti-investment argument; it’s a pro-planning one. Cement and lime plants belong on properly zoned industrial land with modern dust-control, sealed conveyance, enclosed mills, continuous emissions monitoring, and community buffer zones measured in kilometres, not school-field paces. When a High Court says stop, companies must stop. When communities raise legitimate risk, regulators must transparently test, publish and, if necessary, revoke permits. Anything less normalises environmental impunity.

In the coming weeks, the test is simple. Will EMA and other authorities enforce court orders and independently reassess the siting decision, or will Bryden become another case study in how Zimbabwe’s rules bend at the first whiff of capital? Shurugwi’s lessons are etched into rock; Chegutu’s are still being written in chalk dust. For once, let’s choose the textbook answer: protect the children first.

Editor’s note: Reporting on Bryden Country School draws on court and media reports published August 2025 and earlier; health-risk context references peer-reviewed studies and safety data sheets for cement and lime operations.