LEGISLATORS deserve decent working conditions.
They need allowances to cover their work, transport to reach their constituencies and offices to engage with the communities they represent.
A well-resourced Parliament is not a luxury; it is essential for a healthy democracy.
But in Zimbabwe, this principle has been twisted beyond recognition.
Instead of using their positions to push for better services, accountability and development, many Members of Parliament (MPs) have turned Parliament into a marketplace for personal gain.
They clamour for cars, allowances, residential stands, and houses — while the pressing issues of ordinary citizens are left unattended.
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The tragedy is that this behaviour is not confined to one side of the House.
The opposition, once trusted to defend the poor and downtrodden, has fallen into the same trap.
For years, ordinary Zimbabweans placed their hopes in opposition MPs, expecting them to resist co-option and to fight for justice, equity and service delivery.
Yet too many have proven susceptible to the lure of perks.
The result is a Parliament where loyalty is bought, not earned and where the line between ruling and opposition has been blurred by shared self-interest.
A recent letter has exposed the latest scheme.
On September 12, 2025, Local Government minister Daniel Garwe wrote to Harare mayor Jacob Mafume ordering him to allocate at least 30 low-density planned residential stands in the city’s northern suburbs to MPs.
The letter made it clear that this was part of a nationwide “Members of Parliament Residential Stands Scheme”.
Crucially, it gave a deadline: September 19.
This was no polite request. It was arm-twisting.
The symbolism is devastating.
While hospitals go without medicines, schools crumble, roads disintegrate and millions of workers live below the poverty line, legislators are being rewarded with property in leafy suburbs.
The timing only reinforces public anger: Parliament’s own committees are releasing reports exposing failures in key sectors — yet the focus of MPs and ministers is squarely on land, cars and perks.
This culture of self-enrichment corrodes democracy from within.
MPs are supposed to act as a check on the executive, holding government accountable on behalf of citizens.
But how can they do so when they are beneficiaries of the very system they are meant to scrutinise?
How can they question ministers on corruption or mismanagement when those ministers hold the keys to their perks?
The rot is not new.
From farm allocations to car loans, Zimbabwe’s political class has a long history of rewarding itself first and leaving crumbs for everyone else.
What is alarming now is the total absence of resistance.
Even the opposition, once the moral voice of accountability, has been seduced into silence.
The result is a Parliament that represents itself rather than the people.
The implications are grave.
When Parliament is captured by self-interest, the social contract collapses.
First, self-interest by the legislators themselves, and second, self-interest by those in power looking to curry favour with the MPs when the time to extend their stay in government comes.
Citizens lose faith not only in politicians, but in the very idea of representation.
Cynicism deepens, voter apathy grows and political disengagement becomes entrenched.
Democracy cannot function when its supposed guardians are more concerned with their next stand or vehicle than with the plight of those they serve.
Yet this trajectory is not inevitable.
MPs still have a choice.
They can reject perks that compromise their independence, demand that resources be directed to schools, hospitals and public infrastructure, and stand firmly with the people.
They can remember that representation is not a ticket to personal enrichment, but a sacred duty to advocate for those who cannot access power.
The public, too, must demand better.
Civil society, the media and citizens at large should refuse to normalise the idea that MPs deserve perks before service delivery is restored.
Representation must be linked to accountability, not personal reward.
Parliament faces a defining test.
Will it remain a house of self-dealers, trading loyalty for land and cars?
Or will it reclaim its role as the people’s voice, fearless in oversight and principled in action?
The answer will determine not just the credibility of MPs, but the future of Zimbabwe’s democracy itself.
Once legislators sell their conscience, they cease to represent the people.
They represent only themselves.