Who really benefits from the Zimbabwe-Belarus deal to renovate Parirenyatwa Hospital?

During President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s recent state visit to Belarus, a bilateral agreement was signed between the two countries for the renovation of Parirenyatwa Hospital in Harare.

On the surface, this appears like a noble gesture aimed at reviving Zimbabwe’s ailing public healthcare sector.

However, beneath the headlines and official statements lies a complex and troubling story that demands deeper scrutiny and more honest reflection.

This agreement is far from the cause for celebration it may appear to be.

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Parirenyatwa Hospital—once one of the finest health institutions in Africa during the colonial period, when it was known as Andrew Fleming Hospital—has tragically become a shadow of its former self.

At the time, it was reserved exclusively for the white minority and boasted cutting-edge facilities and services.

However, four decades after independence, the hospital, like much of Zimbabwe’s public healthcare infrastructure, is in a horrifying state of neglect.

Ceilings are collapsing, rainwater seeps through gaping holes in the roof, and wards lack even the most basic medications.

Critical machines, such as those for dialysis and cancer treatment, are frequently broken or completely unavailable.

Only a few operating theatres remain functional, forcing many patients to endure dangerous delays or pay exorbitant fees at private institutions they can barely afford.

In this context, the renovation of Parirenyatwa sounds like a much-needed lifeline.

But we must ask: why do we need Belarus—a struggling Eastern European country, a former Soviet republic with far fewer natural resources than Zimbabwe—to renovate our hospital?

Zimbabwe is immensely rich in mineral resources.

From gold, diamonds, and platinum to lithium, chrome, and coal, our land is a veritable treasure trove.

If properly managed, these resources should more than suffice to modernize not only Parirenyatwa but every public hospital in the country.

If things were normal in Zimbabwe, we should be the ones assisting Belarus, not the other way around.

And yet, here we are—begging Belarus for assistance.

This paradox underscores a far more damning reality: our national wealth is not benefiting the people of Zimbabwe.

Instead, it is being plundered by an elite few with proximity to power, who have enriched themselves through illicit financial transactions, opaque deals, and rampant smuggling.

While the masses queue for medication or are sent home to die due to the unavailability of essential treatment, a privileged minority flaunts obscene wealth gained through the looting of our national resources.

The question must then be asked: if the Zimbabwean government can violently suppress voices of dissent, muzzle the media, and unleash the security apparatus on peaceful protestors with such efficiency, why does it not apply the same energy and ruthlessness in cracking down on corruption and illicit financial flows?

It is estimated that Zimbabwe loses over US$3 billion annually to corruption.

Just imagine what that money could do for our health sector.

Imagine what Parirenyatwa Hospital—and all other provincial and district hospitals—would look like if even a fraction of those funds were redirected to healthcare.

Instead, the government has chosen to parade its Belarusian partnership as a shining example of progress, while ignoring the deeper rot.

Even worse, there is reason to suspect that this latest deal may not be as altruistic as it seems.

Why is only Parirenyatwa Hospital being renovated?

What about Mpilo Central Hospital in Bulawayo, Sally Mugabe Central Hospital, or rural clinics in places like Muzarabani and Binga?

Are these facilities not also collapsing under the same weight of underfunding and neglect?

This selective focus suggests not a comprehensive plan to uplift public health, but rather a symbolic gesture designed to score political points or worse—mask a deeper, more sinister motive.

This concern is not unfounded.

Zimbabwe’s past dealings with Belarus have been anything but transparent.

Many of these so-called “strategic partnerships” have benefited a select few individuals with close ties to the corridors of power.

Take, for instance, the controversial fire tender deal in which local authorities across Zimbabwe were compelled to accept fire trucks sourced from Belarus—at prices nearly three times above international market value.

These tenders, facilitated by Alexander Zingman, Zimbabwe’s honorary consul in Minsk and a close ally of President Emmerson Mnangagwa, were supplied through his company Aftrade DMCC under questionable circumstances.

Each fire truck reportedly cost Zimbabwe US$464,296, compared to just US$194,000 for similar models purchased by Mongolia from the same Belarusian manufacturer.

The deal was imposed on councils without a public tender process, with the exorbitant costs deducted directly from their constitutionally allocated devolution funds.

Local leaders decried this top-down imposition, arguing that what communities truly needed were ambulances, clinics, and other essential services—not overpriced fire engines.

Yet, as with many of Zimbabwe’s opaque deals with Belarus, it was politically connected elites—not the struggling Zimbabwean people—who emerged as the real beneficiaries.

Then there are the controversial mining and agricultural equipment deals also involving Zingman.

Investigative reports, particularly by the Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project (OCCRP), have revealed that Zingman, alongside former Belarusian presidential envoy Sergei Sheiman, was secretly involved in a gold mining venture in Zimbabwe under the guise of a state-to-state partnership.

Their ownership was concealed through offshore companies registered in jurisdictions like the Seychelles and the United Kingdom—raising serious concerns about conflicts of interest, transparency, and accountability.

Zingman’s company, Aftrade DMCC, has also been linked to multiple deals involving the supply of agricultural machinery to Zimbabwe.

These transactions were often characterized by inflated prices, lack of competitive bidding, and questionable value for money.

Despite their presentation as strategic development initiatives, these arrangements appear to have benefited a small circle of politically connected individuals rather than the ordinary Zimbabwean.

Such murky deals have only deepened Zimbabwe’s debt burden and public frustration, while doing little to genuinely improve infrastructure or service delivery.

These past experiences should raise red flags about the Parirenyatwa agreement.

Who exactly is going to benefit?

Will this be another inflated contract awarded without public tender?

Will it involve intermediaries with ties to the ruling elite, who will pocket millions while the hospital gets a cheap paint job and is declared “revamped” for media optics?

These are not cynical questions—they are essential ones grounded in Zimbabwe’s lived reality of corruption and betrayal.

Moreover, it is impossible to ignore the timing of this hospital deal.

Just recently, Zimbabweans learned of the scandal involving convicted criminal and notorious tenderpreneur Wicknell Chivayo.

South Africa’s Ren-Form CC was paid R1.1 billion by Zimbabwe’s Treasury for election materials in 2023.

Shockingly, R800 million (about US$44 million) of that money was immediately transferred into Chivayo’s business accounts—without any explanation from government officials.

That money, which could have built or upgraded multiple hospitals, instead disappeared into private hands.

And the state remained ominously silent.

This is the real tragedy of Zimbabwe.

The problem is not a lack of resources.

The problem is not Western sanctions.

The problem is not insufficient international aid.

The problem is corruption—plain and simple.

A political elite that views the state not as a servant of the people but as a personal treasure chest.

A government that is quick to crush criticism but too timid to confront the cartels bleeding the country dry.

It is in this context that the Belarus-Parirenyatwa deal must be evaluated.

Zimbabweans are not ungrateful or suspicious by nature.

But after decades of betrayal, broken promises, and elite enrichment disguised as development, we have every reason to question who will truly benefit from this agreement.

Until we see real transparency, real accountability, and real commitment to national development—beyond flashy announcements and staged handshakes—we will remain skeptical.

Parirenyatwa Hospital deserves to be renovated.

So does every hospital in Zimbabwe.

But not through murky deals and foreign dependency.

Zimbabwe must rise using its own wealth, through honest leadership and people-centred governance.

That is the only path to dignity, sovereignty, and true national healing.

• Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. Please feel free to WhatsApp or Call: +263715667700 | +263782283975, or email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com, or visit website: https://mbofanatendairuben.news.blog/