Zimbabweans Thrilled with the Current South African Situation

By Shingirai Vambe

HARARE – A storm is brewing across the Limpopo, not of rainfall but of rising tensions, raw truths, and regional discontent. When KwaZulu-Natal Police Commissioner Nhlanhla Mkhwanazi recently stood before the cameras and bluntly exposed the rot within South Africa’s own political and policing structures, his boldness sent ripples far beyond his province, it echoed all the way into the heart of Zimbabwe.

His statements, laced with frustration over systemic corruption, political interference, and the erosion of institutional integrity, have drawn applause from an unlikely audience; Zimbabweans, at home and in exile, who saw in Mkhwanazi’s words a rare spark of accountability from within southern Africa’s hardened security systems.

“We are not here to serve the politically connected. Our job is to serve the people, and some of our colleagues have forgotten that,” Mkhwanazi declared.

In a region where police chiefs often function as instruments of the ruling class, rather than servants of public order, Mkhwanazi’s stance came as a jolt of fresh air. In Zimbabwe, where the security apparatus is frequently accused of defending the elite at the expense of citizens, many expressed shock, admiration, and envy.

Social media platforms in Zimbabwe lit up after Mkhwanazi’s remarks. Hashtags like #WeNeedAMkhwanazi and #TrueLeadership trended on X (formerly Twitter), as Zimbabweans praised what they called “the kind of moral courage” that has long been absent in their own country.

“Imagine a Zimbabwe Republic Police (ZRP) Commissioner speaking like that. They would be dismissed before the cameras stopped rolling,” wrote one user on X.

“He spoke for all of us in Southern Africa, we’re tired of corrupt leaders hiding behind uniforms and politics,” said another.

The contrast is stark. While Mkhwanazi was openly confronting misconduct and inefficiency within his force, Zimbabwean officials continue to preside over a broken healthcare system, collapsing infrastructure, and a culture of impunity, with no such frankness or internal resistance from those in uniform.

Despite Zimbabweans’ admiration, the sentiment on the other side of the Limpopo tells a different story. Ordinary South Africans are growing increasingly resentful, especially as strained public resources are stretched to accommodate foreign nationals, many of whom are fleeing dysfunction in their home countries.

Nowhere is this tension more pronounced than in South African healthcare facilities.

In towns like Musina, Polokwane, and Johannesburg, Zimbabwean patients often women, the elderly, and the critically ill, line up daily in government-run hospitals and clinics. Many have crossed borders desperately seeking the kind of basic care that no longer exists in their homeland; working equipment, available medicines, and competent doctors.

But their presence has become a political and emotional flashpoint. South African citizens argue that their tax-funded institutions are being overwhelmed by the needs of non-citizens, while their own communities face delayed services, overcrowded wards, and medicine shortages.

“We are not a hospital for SADC,” said one Limpopo resident in a video that has gone viral “We feel for Zimbabweans, but our government must first take care of its people. Our taxes are not for failed states.”

This sentiment has been weaponized by political parties, particularly those leaning toward nationalism and anti-immigrant rhetoric, further stoking resentment and social division.

For Zimbabweans, the reality is bittersweet. They find hope in Mkhwanazi’s courage, but despair in the growing hostility of the people whose systems they now rely on. Many feel humiliated, treated like burdens or criminals for merely seeking the services their own government has failed to provide.

“It’s not like we want to be here,” said Tariro, a 34-year-old woman seeking maternal care in Polokwane.
“But back home, you can die waiting for paracetamol. So we come here, and now we are made to feel like beggars.”

The situation has left many asking hard questions about sovereignty, dignity, and the broken social contract in Zimbabwe. Why must a nation with vast natural resources, gold, platinum, lithium, rely on its neighbors for aspirin and antibiotics?

Commissioner Mkhwanazi’s stand, though specific to South Africa’s own crisis, has pulled the curtain back on a regional failure of leadership and accountability. His message, intended for a domestic audience, has inadvertently challenged leaders across SADC to confront the same corruption, negligence, and state capture that has weakened nearly every public institution.

For Zimbabweans, it’s a painful reminder that true reform begins with honest reflection and bold leadership, two qualities in short supply at home.

“Mkhwanazi did what our own leaders fear most, tell the truth. Not for applause. Not for votes. But because it was right,” said Tinashe Mhike, a Zimbabwean political commentator.

“If more people in power had that courage, maybe our hospitals would function, and our people wouldn’t be dying on foreign soil.”