IShowSpeed and the tourism we don’t understand in Zimbabwe

I did not know who IShowSpeed was until his recent African tour brought him to Zimbabwe. Like many adults outside Gen Z internet culture, I had to research him.

What I discovered was not merely a teenage celebrity, but a case study in how modern success can emerge from chaos — an obsession dismissed as directionless, a rebellion against conventional parental career pathways, and a life built entirely outside the orthodox ladder of education–employment–promotion.

From two viewers, to four, to twenty-two, and then to millions — and now a net worth said to exceed US$100 million — Speed represents a new global reality: attention is power, and authenticity is currency.

It is therefore unsurprising that Zimbabwe’s tourism authorities sought to leverage his fame to market the country. On the surface, this was a good idea. But good ideas fail when execution is shallow.

Yes, there was planning. But it was the wrong kind of planning.

Instead of asking who Speed is, officials asked how to impress him. Instead of authenticity, they offered imitation. Instead of Zimbabwe, they offered a distorted mirror of American excess — flashy nightclubs, socialites, and manufactured encounters with elite wealth.

At one nightclub, minors allegedly linked to politically connected billionaire Scott Sakupwanya were reportedly smuggled in to have a “historic moment” with Speed.

Rather than excitement, Speed displayed visible discomfort, openly questioning why underage children were in an adult, X-rated space. That moment alone should have alarmed handlers: this was not the audience they were dealing with.

Speed then questioned the logic of a Zimbabwean football club named Scotland FC — asking, quite logically, why a post-colonial African nation would name its teams after former colonisers. Explanations about league titles fell on uninterested ears. He threw the jersey back.

It was not rudeness. It was clarity.

Speed instinctively saw the absurdity that our elites normalise.

He is African American — a descendant of those violently severed from this continent — coming “home” in search of cultural truth. Instead, he was surrounded by gold diggers, underage children in nightclubs, and symbols of colonial mimicry. This was not curiosity for him. It was déjà vu.

He sees obscene wealth daily in America.

He was not looking for replicas.

That is why, in one of the most revealing moments of the tour, he ignored heavily made-up socialites and complimented a simple Zimbabwean girl in her natural beauty, saying “wakanaka” — you are beautiful. The slay queens were offended. But Speed had already told us everything: authenticity still speaks louder than decoration.

A fellow Zimbabwean on social media captured this failure with brutal honesty. Translating and contextualising his Shona commentary, the message was clear:

Speed was never interested in “wannabe Americans” or our slay queen culture. International visitors want an authentic African experience, not a clumsy attempt to make them feel “at home” by imitating the very society they were trying to escape. In trying to impress him, we embarrassed ourselves — and mismarketed the country.

The Zimbabwe Tourism Authority failed its #VisitZimbabwe assignment because it failed to study its subject.

Tourism Minister Barbara Rwodzi should have understood the power of vloggers and digital storytellers. This was not a red-carpet guest — this was a walking media house. Someone like Ndavaningi Mangwana, who understands narrative and symbolism, should have shaped the itinerary.

Where should Speed have gone?

Not to nightclubs.

He should have gone to Epworth, to witness survival at the raw edge of the city.

To Mbare, to see hustlers, markets, sweat, and life.

To Dzivarasekwa, Mereki, Pfungwa — the real Zimbabwe, not the curated one.

He should have visited Mutoko, seen the spiritual traditions, met custodians of culture.

Observed mapostori in Katsiru or Domboshava — spaces of faith Africans created for themselves, outside colonial Christianity.

For food, not elite restaurants — but KwaTerry, real Zimbabwean cuisine, real stories.

Instead of the predictable Victoria Falls hotels that Americans already have at every corner back home, he should have been taken to Binga — to see elderly women smoking traditional pipes, to promote Binga Beach and the hot springs, to encounter the BaTonga people.

At the Falls, he should have met the Luvani and Nambya, not just staff in luxury resorts.

And what of the Shangani and Ndau communities?

Are they invisible?

Have we run out of Zimbabweans who genuinely represent Zimbabwe?

This episode teaches us a larger lesson.

The same social media that enabled government to invite an American teenager to Zimbabwe is the same platform exposing the plight of ordinary Zimbabweans under a system of looting, elite enrichment, and performative philanthropy.

You cannot control the narrative when the guest controls the camera.

You cannot curate truth.

Speed did not come looking for perfection.

He came looking for real.

And real is the one thing we were unwilling to show him.

Tiri kunyara.