Mutumwa Mawere: A tycoon crushed by weaponised political power

The news struck like a thunderbolt across Southern Africa today: Mutumwa Mawere, the once indomitable Zimbabwean businessman who rose from rural obscurity to command a vast empire spanning mining, finance, and beyond, has died at the age of 66.

He passed away in a Johannesburg hospital, succumbing to complications from a stroke suffered in 2024, mere days after marking his birthday on 11 January.

In his final years, exiled in South Africa, Mawere remained a vocal critic of the system that stripped him of his fortunes, a saga that epitomises the perils of challenging entrenched political power in Zimbabwe.

The loss of Mawere’s businesses two decades ago remains one of the most contentious chapters in Zimbabwe’s post-independence economic history, a tale of ambition clashing with authoritarian control.

In 2004, under President Robert Mugabe’s regime, the government invoked the Reconstruction of State Indebted Insolvent Companies Act to seize control of SMM Holdings, Mawere’s flagship entity that included the lucrative Shabanie Mashaba Mines, Africa’s largest asbestos producer at the time. The pretext was insolvency and allegations of externalising foreign currency, charges that were never substantiated in court.

Instead, the move reeked of retribution: Mawere had dared to accuse Gideon Gono, then governor of the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe and Mugabe’s personal banker, of operating a slush fund through improper fuel deals.

This public feud escalated into a full-scale assault on Mawere’s empire, with the state appointing administrators, freezing assets, and declaring him a fugitive. Extradition attempts from South Africa failed, but the damage was irreversible.

What began as a dispute over financial impropriety morphed into a symbol of how Zimbabwe’s ruling elite could weaponise law against perceived threats, leaving thousands jobless and a once-thriving industry in ruins.

Born on 11 January 1960 in Bindura, a modest town in what was then Southern Rhodesia, Mawere’s early life was shaped by the grind of colonial inequality. The son of a farm labourer, he navigated a path through education that few from his background could imagine.

Excelling in school, he earned a scholarship to study accounting at the University of Zimbabwe, graduating in the early 1980s amid the euphoria of independence. But Zimbabwe’s nascent economy offered limited horizons for a young black professional, so Mawere ventured abroad, honing his skills in London and later South Africa.

There, he immersed himself in the world of finance, working for institutions like the World Bank before returning home in the 1990s with a vision to build African-led conglomerates.

His ascent was meteoric. Starting with modest investments, Mawere acquired distressed assets during Zimbabwe’s economic liberalisation. By the late 1990s, he had assembled Africa Resources Limited, a holding company with interests in mining, banking, insurance, and agriculture.

SMM Holdings stood at the core, employing over 5 000 people and exporting asbestos globally. Mawere was hailed as a black empowerment pioneer, a self-made tycoon who embodied the promise of indigenous capitalism in post colonial Africa.

He rubbed shoulders with presidents and tycoons, from Mugabe himself to South African magnates. Yet, his independence bred suspicion. As Zimbabwe’s economy faltered under hyperinflation and corruption, Mawere’s wealth made him a target.

The turning point came in the early 2000s. Mawere uncovered irregularities in dealings with the Commercial Bank of Zimbabwe, where Gono served as CEO before his elevation to RBZ governor. Fuel procurement contracts through SMM were allegedly diverted to unauthorised accounts, breaching exchange control laws.

Mawere went public with these claims, accusing Gono of malfeasance. In retaliation, Gono wielded his influence, pushing for investigations that painted Mawere as the villain. The RBZ alleged that SMM owed millions in unpaid loans, a claim Mawere disputed as fabricated.

Mugabe’s inner circle, including Justice Minister Patrick Chinamasa and then Speaker of Parliament Emmerson Mnangagwa, became entangled in the fray.

Chinamasa championed the Reconstruction Act, a draconian measure allowing state intervention without judicial oversight, while Mnangagwa, reportedly once an ally, distanced himself as the political winds shifted.

By mid-2004, Mawere’s world unravelled. Fleeing to South Africa to avoid arrest, he watched from afar as his companies were nationalised. The mines, once a beacon of productivity, fell into disrepair under state management.

Workers went unpaid, communities suffered, and asbestos production plummeted. Mawere decried it as expropriation without compensation, a violation of property rights that echoed the farm invasions of the era.

Legal battles ensued, spanning courts in Zimbabwe, South Africa, and international tribunals. In 2010, he was despecified as a fugitive, but reclamation efforts yielded little. Parts of SMM were sold off to Chinese investors, further entrenching foreign control over Zimbabwe’s resources.

Exile did not silence Mawere. From Johannesburg, he reinvented himself as an activist and commentator, founding think-tanks and media platforms to advocate for rule of law and economic justice.

He authored books and articles lambasting crony capitalism, often naming Gono and others in Mugabe’s cabal as architects of Zimbabwe’s decline.

His critiques extended to the post-Mugabe era under Mnangagwa, whom he accused of perpetuating the same predatory system. Mawere’s voice resonated in diaspora circles, where he mentored young entrepreneurs and pushed for constitutional reforms.

Yet, health woes mounted. The 2024 stroke left him frail, a physical toll perhaps exacerbated by years of stress from unending litigation.

Mawere’s death prompts uncomfortable reflections on Zimbabwe’s trajectory. In a nation still grappling with economic malaise, his story underscores how political vendettas stifle innovation. Had Mawere’s empire endured, it might have anchored a more resilient industrial base.

Instead, it became a cautionary tale: cross the powerful, and lose everything. Gono, now a low profile figure, has never fully addressed the allegations, while Chinamasa and others faded into relative obscurity post-2017 coup.

Mnangagwa’s administration, promising a new dawn, has done little to rectify such injustices, leaving Mawere’s heirs to inherit a fractured legacy.

As Africa contends with rising authoritarianism, Mawere’s life reminds us that true progress demands protecting individual enterprise from state overreach. His passing is not just a loss for Zimbabwe but a call to safeguard the dreamers who build nations.

In his memory, perhaps it’s time for restitution, not just for his family but for all victims of politicised dispossession.