By Edgar Gabarinocheka, Village Intelligence Officer
When a man sits under a mango tree in his old age and remembers the seasons that have passed, he must speak truthfully about those who tilled the soil, who fed the cattle, and who dug deep in the earth. I have lived long enough to see many seasons in Zvishavane and Mberengwa, and I must confess: Mimosa Mining Company has left footprints that even the rains cannot wash away.
After temporary teaching in Gweru, I first began teaching in the 1990s and was posted near Mberengwa District Hospital. Back then, calling it a hospital was an act of generosity. The building was tired, and the mortuary could take only two bodies at a time. Yes, two. Death was a communal inconvenience.
I remember one painful incident like it was yesterday. My headmaster, the late Mr. Mandaza, was a lion of a man with a lion’s thirst for Lion Lager. When his sister passed on, we took her body to the hospital mortuary. But alas, both slots were already full. The matron came out, shaking her head. “nyaya munoiziva vaMandaza?” she said. There was no space. So the family had to take the body home immediately, and arrange a quick burial.
That indignity stayed with me. To grieve with nowhere to place your dead is to grieve twice. Last March I visited my old friend Dube at Mberengwa District Hospital, old man had a broken leg after falling from his bicycle ah Dube. Was it not a breathe of fresh air what I saw there, with new male and female wards complete with a new maternity ward. The young administrator tells me there are labs and a theatre in the pipeline. more capacity, and proper facilities thanks to Mimosa, I marvel. And yes, they have built a new mortuary there, proper mortuary. What was once a place of sorrow has been given dignity. This is no small gift. It is the restoration of humanity.
I must confess something: I am a dyed-in-the-wool Dynamos supporter. Through wins and losses, I have shouted myself hoarse for DeMbare. Yet, even my stubborn heart swells with pride when I see Mandava Stadium in Zvishavane, refurbished with Mimosa’s support.
In my youth, Mandava was a dusty, second-class ground. The kind of place where dogs chased the ball as much as players did. No premier league team wanted to set foot there. Today, it stands as a fortress, hosting the giants of our league. Every time Dynamos come to play FC Platinum, I travel to the stadium, full of hope. And every time, I leave in sorrow, for FC Platinum seems to always humble us there.
I often tell my friends, “Mimosa built this stadium just to make me cry.” I would never forget that 3-0 humbling back in 2014 on a cold Sunday afternoon! But even in defeat, I clap. Because football is life in Zimbabwe. And infrastructure that brings such joy — and heartbreak — is infrastructure worth celebrating.
Let us now talk of cattle. For an African man, cattle are not just wealth. They are a bank account, a university, and a church all rolled into one. A man’s herd is his pride, his insurance, his lobola for his daughter’s marriage, his feast for the ancestors.
Mimosa’s Livestock Revitalization Programme has breathed new life into our villages. Since 2015, they have donated over 500 pedigree bulls and 300 heifers to communities under Chiefs Mafala, Mapanzure, Masunda, and others. They even brought artificial insemination to improve their herds. Where once our cattle were thin as broomsticks, now they walk with a swagger.
My own muzukuru, Mugiya, used to eat sadza with vegetables every day. Meat was a rare visitor to his plate. Today, thanks to better cattle breeds, he boasts of milk daily and meat more often. When I visited him last month, he teased me: “Sekuru, my diet has changed. You see this chest? It is no longer from pumpkins but from beef!” We laughed, but I knew this was transformation in real terms.
During my teaching days, I hammered into my students’ heads that business must not only chase profit but also invest in the communities that sustain it. The invisible hand of Adam Smith works best when it is also a helping hand.
Mimosa has embodied this through their Local Enterprise Development (LED) programme. They deliberately support local companies so that money circulates within the community. Look at Boltrec Engineering, for example. They are employing Zvishavane`s own sons and daughters, including the son of my old friend, Katsande.
One day, after collecting my pension in Zvishavane, I passed by Katsande’s home. He hosted me to a three-course meal: soup, sadza with beef, and jelly with custard! I sat there, spoon in hand, wide-eyed like a child seeing Father Christmas. He chuckled: “Sekuru, it is the boy’s job at Boltrec that keeps us in comfort.” That is what empowerment looks like.
Palawani, too, has benefitted from Mimosa’s support. Today it stands as an example of how local enterprises can thrive when given a strong hand up, not just handouts.
Last week, I visited the Zimbabwe Agricultural Show. Mimosa’s stand was the talk of the town. Like the President and his friend Cyril Ramaphosa I toured stand with a keen eye, these exhibitions tell you more about the state of the nation than Trevor Ncube`s newspapers can. Mimosa were at it again, they had built a mock mine shaft tunnel, dimly lit with flickering lanterns. As we walked through, the sound of machinery echoed, and guides in overalls explained how ore is extracted, how safety is ensured, and how the mine has contributed to national development.
Children clung to their parents, some wide-eyed with wonder, others terrified of the darkness. At the end, everyone emerged smiling, snapping photos.
As I walked around, I noticed even Supa Mandiwanzira was all smiles as they explained Mimosa`s works and efforts to him.
I learned something new there: platinum was first extracted in 1925 at that project, Robert was just two years old! Nearly 100 years ago! As a Commerce man, I laughed and told the young guide, “This must be the longest product life cycle in the history of business. From Introduction to Growth to Maturity, and yet Mimosa refuses to decline!” She laughed politely, perhaps not understanding my joke. But I was serious. Few survive a century while giving so much back.
Mimosa has not dug and abandoned. They have given back to the earth, too. The Mtshingwe Nursery is one of the largest operated by a mining company in Zimbabwe. There, seedlings are grown for reforestation, to heal the scars of deforestation. Chiefs and villagers take part, planting trees as a legacy for tomorrow.
The new TSF-4 tailings facility, a US$75 million project, is another marvel. Clay-lined, 165 hectares wide, designed to last the mine’s lifetime. It even includes a water containment dam. And here is the wonder: I hear that a recreational park with wildlife has been added. Zebras, I am told, now graze there.
My daughter’s son, Tafara with restless hands always drawing zebras in his schoolbooks, will be over the moon if I one day take him there. I promised him we would go. Perhaps Mimosa has unknowingly created a playground for dreamers, a place where mining and nature dance together.
What amazes me most is that Mimosa has continued with these efforts despite global platinum prices tumbling. Any ordinary business would have slashed every community programme.
I imagine if our village general dealer, old Mujakakachi, faced such a downturn, he would immediately deny us credit. Worse still, he might charge us for simply sitting under his shed while we sip our opaque beer! But Mimosa? They have kept their CSR budget steady. This, to me, is the true mark of commitment.
West Africans say, “When the moon is shining, the cripple becomes hungry for a walk.” In our land, Mimosa has been that moon. It has encouraged us to walk tall, with dignity and hope.
From hospitals to stadiums, from cattle to nurseries, from local enterprises to children’s homes, Mimosa has sown seeds of life. As a retired teacher, I must award them high marks. Not perfect — for no student ever is — but distinction nonetheless.
And so, as I sit on my veranda, pen in hand, watching the sun dip behind the hills of Zvishavane, I smile. Because I know that in the century-long story of Mimosa, the chapters of community, dignity, and sustainability are written boldly.
That is mining with a human face.
