BY METRO

Metro’s foreign correspondent Gergana Krasteva reports from Zimbabwe

The last time I see Madeline Mgwabi, she is peering through the gates of her crumbling home in western Zimbabwe.

The grandmother-of-three is clutching a single orange that our driver had slipped to her – leftover from the hotel breakfast.

The fruit will have to be split four ways – between her and her grandsons – one of them still a toddler – all of whom she is raising on her own in this godforsaken area in the southern part of Matabeleland North province.

Beside her, on a wooden bench, is her eldest grandson, still dressed in his purple and blue school uniform, steadily scooping gooey porridge from a plastic container.

To put food on the table, Madeline fetches firewood and does odd jobs for neighbours in the village of Libeni, in Umguza District, but it is not enough.

Worst drought in century devastates Zimbabwe

Before droughts robbed the region of water, the grandmother used to farm maize and other Zimbabwean staple crops in her now barren garden.

Gesturing at the dried-up shrubs, she tells Metro: ‘I have lived here for 25 years and each year, the droughts hit us worse and worse.

‘Because of the climate, we often do not harvest anything.’

Her face is hollowed by the years of loss, and her palms are calloused by the decade of grinding in Zimbabwe’s artisanal mines.

What Madeline fears is that her grandsons will eventually have to abandon education in favour of mining to earn a living.

The family’s financial struggle resembles the one of millions of people who have been burdened by the decades of macroeconomic instability, political isolation and now, climate change in Zimbabwe.

Driving through Matabeleland North – where agriculture used to be one of the key economic sectors – Metro witnesses the scars of the climate warming cycle, El Niño, firsthand.

Here, the earth appears to have forgotten what rainfeels like, despite the determination of Zimbabweans to revive what has been lost.

Alongside the road, cattle search for anything to eat – grass, shrubs, any bit of greenery left in a land that has surrendered.

The SUV rumbles past what the driver tells me was, until 2023, the mighty Shangani River that used to nourish the region; now, it is nothing more than a cracked bed of mud and rocks.

Last year, the Zimbabwean president Emmerson Mnangagwa declared a national disaster to tackle the prolonged drought crisis.

Lesotho, Malawi, Namibia and Zambia did so too. Other African nations were also severely affected.

As most households depend on agriculture for food, seven million people in Zimbabwe faced big shortages during the 2024-2025 season, despite improved crops this year.

Boys drop out of school to work in mines

Children have been the most impacted by the droughts – with some opting to drop out of school because their parents cannot provide them with food.

A fifth of all Zimbabwean children aged less than five suffer from chronic malnutrition, with merely 10% of babies aged six to 23 months receiving an adequate minimum diet, according to recent figures.

Hunger is only one part of a vicious cycle that children are trapped in. With households collapsing under the weight of poverty, boys as young as nine leave school to risk their lives in unregulated mines – and girls are married off to provide their parents a brief financial relief.

Girls forced into early marriages for dowry

In Zimbabwe, one girl out of three is already married before turning 18, and more than one out of five has given birth.

Scores of underage brides fall victim to domestic violence and face grave health risks, from early childbearing to HIV.

Although underage marriage is illegal in Zimbabwe and local organisations have been fighting against it, families driven by poverty resort to it.

Lungisani Nyathi knows all too well the dangers his four children face; yet with no steady work and no wages coming in, he feels powerless to shield them.

Gesturing at a makeshift shack, clumsily constructed out of wood and blue tarpaulin, that is his new home, he tells Metro that his wife gave birth just 10 months ago to their baby girl.

‘As a father, I am supposed to provide for my children,’ he shares his fears.

‘If I fail to provide for my daughter when she grows up, I worry that she will have to marry someone very young.

‘It is common for girls to be tied into early marriages due to the financial situation of their families.

One day, our baby girl will have to face the same situation. Young girls are so desperate, they go to bars themselves to search for money.’

Lungisani, who volunteers as a security guard for a borehole that supplies water in Village 5, in Bubi District, wishes to relocate his wife and children to another area so that his boys are not tempted to work in the gold mines nearby.

Wherever schools are located near mining fields, boys are sometimes lured into the pit, under the promise of some money.

After working in a gold mine for six months last year, Lungisani knows all too well that this is not the life for a child.

Describing the conditions as ‘very harsh, because workers are not given any protective clothing,’ he adds: ‘Even the dust was choking us.’

Children in mines is a ‘ticking time bomb’

Khumalo Fanta, deputy headteacher at the Amazwimabili Primary School, shares similar fears for her pupils and says that every year, a few children drop out to work in the mines or to be married off.

She tells Metro that boys, not even in their teens, who work as miners, are swiftly swept into a world of alcohol abuse, without parental supervision.

With what little money they make, they often entice young girls with false promises of a better life – pulling them both into the same cycle of poverty they were trying to escape, before their lives have even started.

Khumalo says: ‘A lot of boys would leave school and go work at the mines. It exposes them to elicit behaviour… There is always alcohol near the mines because it sells fast to adolescents.

‘There is no control as parents are simply grateful that money is coming home, but it is dangerous.

‘It is a ticking time bomb. When they come back, they flash their money… and the girls are attracted.

‘Then they are lost in their behaviour because those boys just get drunk, shouting, they do all sorts of things.’

If children go to school at all, the absence of support systems means that they walk several miles on empty stomachs every morning.

Three million children fed every day

Mary’s Meals, a Scottish-based charity, is working to break that cycle by providing daily school meals for children in early education.

The concept is simple. Mary’s Meals provides food for school, but it is the parents – often the mothers of the pupils – who prepare it and serve it up in between classes.

The promise of a warm bowl of porridge a day has become a lifeline, and sometimes the only meal a child will be guaranteed.

Madeline’s eldest grandson, for example, is one of the pupils part of the programme.

She says: ‘There is nothing more important for my grandsons than going to school and having an education. So having porridge at school is so helpful as it reduces the workload for me.’

Dromoland Primary, the Bubi District of Matabeleland North, is one of the schools with which Mary’s Meals has been working with.

Simeleni Mguni, the headmaster since 2020, told Metro that at the end of last year, there were 255 pupils – but this year there are 279 because of the feeding programme.

‘We enroll new learners every week,’ she says beaming with pride, her smile stretching across her round face.

Before the programme was introduced at the beginning of the school term in 2022, four boys and four girls dropped out because their parents could not feed them.

Simeleni says, regretfully: ‘I know some of the left because they needed to find jobs. Almost all the boys – aged between 12 and 14 – went to search for work in the illegal mines.

‘For awhile, they moved from one gold mine to another, in the nearby area. It is not easy work. If they would find any gold they have to sell it for really meagre amounts of money [as it is not from a registered pit].

‘Two years later, they are now back in school because of Mary’s Meals, and passed their exams recently.’

The four girls – aged between 13 and 14 – are also back in the classroom.

Simeleni said they had left because they did not have period products and were ’embarrassed’ to come to school.

By easing hunger, Mary’s Meals reduces the number of children who might otherwise drop out to work or marry, or just stay at home.

Mary’s Meals has been operating in Zimbabwe since 2018, with the help of a grassroots-based NGO, ORAP.

Working in some of the poorest countries across Africa, Asia, the Middle East, Latin America and the Caribbean, the charity has today announced the grim milestone that it is feeding three million children every day.

Metro travelled to Zimbabwe with the help of Mary’s Meals, a Scottish-based charity feeding children in the country.

BY NOKUTHABA DLAMINI 

On Sunday, an enlightening X Space meeting delved into the escalating drug crisis in Zimbabwe, featuring critical insights from speakers African Queen and Syllogism. Their discussions shed light on the systemic challenges that continue to exacerbate drug abuse and trafficking in the country.

African Queen characterized the need for “willpower in the political system” as fundamental to successfully addressing the crisis. Drawing parallels with success stories from other nations, she stated, “Consider South Africa, which has successfully sent numerous professionals to Cuba for training. If Zimbabwe’s leadership genuinely wants to see its nation thrive, they must invest similarly in addressing the root causes of drug abuse. We cannot simply implement punitive measures; we need to create a narrative that builds awareness and educates our people.”

Critically, she expressed her discontent with government responses that focus on punishment rather than support. “What I do not like personally is a punitive government,” she explained. “When faced with societal issues, the first instinct seems to be to penalize the very citizens who are struggling to survive amid these problems. We want a government that engages with the public constructively rather than punishing them for attempting to escape their hardships.”

Highlighting a specific incident in Bulawayo, she referred to a recent proposal from the city council advocating punitive measures for littering, noting that it falls short of the necessary educational initiatives. “They want to impose fines, suggesting that citizens should inherently know better, but there’s been no concerted effort to educate them on why keeping our cities clean is crucial. Education should come before punishment to foster informed decision-making among the public.”

Syllogism echoed these sentiments while exploring the systemic challenges faced by law enforcement in dealing with drug-related issues in Zimbabwe. “It’s interesting to observe discussions around illegal drugs, especially given the recent escalations we’ve seen in Harare, where there’s been a significant police presence on major roads,” he remarked. “However, the critical question remains: Are these enforcement officers truly equipped to detect drugs effectively?”

He elaborated, noting, “Zimbabwe’s laws and rehabilitation systems have been heavily modeled after those in the UK, establishing a structural framework for enforcement. Yet, the real issue resides in the execution of these laws. Our police face resource challenges—a lack of sniffer dogs, insufficient training, and low morale driven by low pay—that undermine their ability to combat drug trafficking effectively. This systemic weakness allows those with financial power to evade justice while the less fortunate bear the brunt of legal repercussions.”

Syllogism continued, emphasizing, “The current approach is detrimental; it allows big suppliers to bribe their way out of trouble, leaving the poor to face harsh consequences for minor infractions. To truly address the problem, we must rethink how we motivate our law enforcers and tackle the corruption that permeates the system. Without proper incentives, our highly functioning laws, police, courts, and prisons will remain ineffective.”

Both speakers highlighted the alarming trend of drug abuse in Zimbabwe, noting that approximately 80% of the population acknowledges the issue as a serious concern. This crisis disproportionately affects the youth, making education and preventive programs vital to stemming the tide of addiction.

The police have recently ramped up efforts to combat drug abuse, with significant seizures reported. In one operation, law enforcement intercepted vehicles carrying over 60 kilograms of illegal substances, alongside multiple arrests, including a group of foreign Chinese nationals allegedly involved in drug trafficking offenses in Harare.

BY LINDA MUJURU

Zimbabwe’s tobacco sector was once on the brink of collapse. Now, it’s booming again. Last year alone, it earned the country close to US$1 billion in revenue.

But though the crop is one of the country’s top exports and production has soared, small-scale contract farmers say they see little profit due to restrictive financing agreements.

The tobacco boom, farmers say, is keeping them in debt.

Gift Ngoma is among them. When he lost his clerk job eight years ago, tobacco farming was the only way he could feed his family. But fertilizer, seeds and labor proved expensive. Even money from the few cows he sold wasn’t enough.

Like many rural Zimbabweans, he’d gotten land — about 3.5 hectares (9 acres) — through traditional tenure. But those who secured land that way often lack a title deed. For Ngoma, formal credit was out of the question.

Ngoma knew of local farmers who had entered agreements with private companies. The deals looked good at first: Each planting season, a company provided farmers with seeds and fertilizer on credit. They’d offer technical support throughout the season. In return, farmers sold enough of their crop to the company and used part of the revenue to cover what they owed.

Ngoma signed on with Premium Leaf Zimbabwe, a subsidiary of Premium Tobacco — a global company headquartered in Dubai.

The company provided him with seeds and some money for labor. Once harvest came, he sold enough tobacco to the company to pay off his debt. But over time, he says, this agreement came to feel like a trap. The seeds and other inputs are overpriced, he says, and there’s little money left over to find true success as a farmer.

Thin rewards

More than 100,000 small-scale tobacco farmers in Zimbabwe have entered into contracts with tobacco companies, according to data from the Tobacco Industry and Marketing Board, a statutory body that oversees tobacco production in the country.

The contracts — heavily financed by companies such as British American Tobacco and Tian Ze (China Tobacco) — now support over 95% of Zimbabwe’s tobacco production.

The five largest importers of Zimbabwe’s raw tobacco are China, South Africa, Mozambique, United Arab Emirates and Indonesia.

But smallholding farmers don’t feel that success. In December 2024, the government announced plans to issue title deeds to beneficiaries of the land reform program, which would give farmers a chance to use their land as collateral and rely less on contract farming. But for now, many still rely on tobacco contracts.

“We are in a cycle of oppression,” Ngoma says. “There is poverty in contract farming. It’s as if we are laborers on our farms.”

When Global Press Journal reached out to Premium Leaf Zimbabwe for comment, they said it was the company’s policy to “protect the privacy of our farmers and operational integrity.” Tian Ze and British American Tobacco did not respond to several requests for comment.

The land link

Zimbabwe’s shift to contract farming has roots in a wider story of land reform.

At independence in 1980, white Zimbabweans — who made up less than 2% of the population — controlled nearly half of all agricultural land. The majority black population was confined to degraded, overcrowded communal areas.

In 2000, then-President Robert Mugabe launched the controversial Fast Track Land Reform Programme. The government redistributed millions of hectares of land from about 6,000 large, white-owned farms to more than 168,000 black-owned farms, according to a Human Rights Watch report.

The reforms were rushed, controversial and violent, but they brought a new agrarian structure. Tobacco, at the time one of the most valuable crops and dominated by white-owned farms, shifted to small-scale operations by the new landowners.

But the new generation of farmers didn’t have access to traditional bank credit since they didn’t hold deeds to their land. Tobacco production dropped dramatically, from over 197,000 tons in 1998 to about 44,000 tons in 2006.

Farmers needed support, and into the vacuum stepped contract schemes, mostly by Chinese agribusinesses such as Tian Ze. They supplied seeds, fertilizers and technical support in exchange for crop guarantees, price control and access to global markets. Ultimately, those contracts played a key role in the post-reform tobacco boom.

‘We continue to be dependent’

Contract schemes now dominate Zimbabwe’s tobacco farming, says Emmanuel Matsvaire, acting chief executive officer of the Tobacco Industry and Marketing Board. In the 2024-25 season alone, the board recorded a total of 106,555 small-scale growers, he says, and about 89% of these are contract farming. In the 2025 season, the board licensed 43 companies to contract tobacco farmers.

The country’s economy has long struggled and “local financing is generally limited,” Matsvaire says. These companies fill the gap.

But farmers say the fine print works against them.

Seeds and fertilizer are overpriced, Ngoma says. For half a hectare, he receives seven bags of fertilizer for US$65 each. At the shops, the same bag costs about US$40. Many farmers don’t have ready cash to buy directly from shops, so they rely on private companies to provide fertilizer and other inputs, even if it means paying more when harvest comes.

“Because of poverty, we continue to be dependent,” Ngoma says.

Once contract farmers pay back the debts, very little is left. In some cases, the total earnings don’t even cover the debt, Ngoma says, which forces them to grow tobacco for the same company the next season.

The companies control the whole process, including land use, Ngoma says, adding that at times they bring in agricultural experts who dictate seed types, planting times and farming methods, completely disregarding local farming knowledge.

Peter Neshumba, 36, began contract farming for Premium Leaf Zimbabwe in 2024. He says these companies go as far as controlling whether farmers can plant anything else. They want full devotion for their crops, he says. “Until harvest, the land essentially belongs to them.”

If a farmer doesn’t stick to the rules, the company might refuse to buy their crop or leave them without a contract the next season, he says.

A contract analyzed in a 2023 study in Oikos, a journal published by Zimbabwe Ezekiel Guti University, shows just how tobacco contracts lock small-scale farmers into risky debt. The 2019-20 Tian Ze contract required farmers to repay loans before seeing any profit, even requiring some to put their property on the line as collateral.

Undoing land reforms

These arrangements undermine Zimbabwe’s land reforms, says George Seremwe, the president of the Zimbabwe Tobacco Growers Association. The reforms were meant to redress colonial imbalances, but contract farming introduces new vulnerabilities for small-scale farmers as they cede control of their land to contracting companies.

But Nelson Marongwe, an independent land expert who has researched tobacco farming and land rights, doesn’t think so. The contracts are valid, he says, and address a production gap.

But it needs to be for a limited period, he says, as there is a risk of farmers losing autonomy and companies abusing their bargaining power.

‘I feel used’

The tobacco board is trying to make these arrangements fairer to farmers, Matsvaire says. The government is implementing a framework to ensure farmers receive a fair share of profits, receive inputs in time and aren’t burdened with overpriced or substandard inputs. The framework will also set a minimum input package for farmers.

Matsvaire adds that this farming season, the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe has mandated that tobacco farmers retain 70% of their earnings, in US dollars to protect them from exchange-rate losses.

But Ngoma says other issues, like land control and alternative financing methods, still need to be addressed.

One solution, Marongwe, the land expert, says, is to secure rural land rights for all farmers, which would expand access to other financing options.

Seremwe says farmers need fairer terms, but the solution is not to abandon contract farming, since the country needs the foreign investment.

Despite the challenges, Neshumba plans to keep contract farming. He doesn’t have financing alternatives. When he started, he hoped for better returns. “Now that I’m in it,” he says, “I feel used.”

For farmers like Ngoma, the goal is self-financing.

“Contract farming,” he says, “is a bondage.”

The story was originally published by the Global Press Journal