OVER the past decade, Zimbabwe has haemorrhaged more than US$4 billion in a desperate exodus for health.
Each year, roughly 200 000 citizens pack their bags for India, South Africa, China and Singapore, taking US$400 million with them. [Cited in Zimbabwe’s National Development Strategy (NDS1)]
This is not merely a flight of capital; it is a vote of no confidence in a domestic system starved of equipment and essential medicines.
However, the expertise is there as the country is capable of handling critical procedures.
Anywhere you go, locals are trailblazers in the medical field.
As we move through 2026, a strange paradox has emerged.
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Through strategic public-private partnerships (PPPs), state-of-the-art facilities have risen to bridge the gap, offering specialised care that rivals international standards.
The government officially aims to transform Zimbabwe into a regional medical tourism hub.
Medical tourism is one of the 12 pillars espoused in the strategy.
Tourism and Hospitality Industry minister Barbara Rwodzi is strategically leveraging on the country’s global momentum.
After being adjudged the 2025 Best Destination in the World by Forbes, Rwodzi is championing medical tourism as a key growth pillar.
By integrating world-class clinical expertise with restorative “wellness safaris”, she is transforming Zimbabwe into a premier hub for holistic healing, proving that the nation’s breathtaking landscapes are the perfect backdrop for global healthcare innovation.
But there is a wall standing between these world-class theatres and the patients who need them.
It is a wall built of silence and fuelled by a shadow economy of referrals.
Some local doctors, acting as agents for health facilities outside the country, don’t hesitate to refer outside.
In Shona, we have a saying, “n’anga huru inopembedzwa kure”, to mean a great doctor is appreciated afar.
This has to change, no one can correct this narrative, but ourselves.
As the media, dissemination of correct information is pivotal.
In analysing this crisis, one truth remains absolute: “You will never know what was never put out into the public space.”
Locals are intimately familiar with the departments in New Delhi, the cardiac wings in Johannesburg oncology, hepatobiliary operations, cardiac stenting, open heart surgery,
cosmetic surgeries and many more procedures done abroad — yet all these are also performed locally.
It’s because they have read about them, they are more familiar with these as the institutions occupy the public consciousness through advertising.
They market their breakthroughs, they showcase their technology and they build trust through transparency.
In Zimbabwe, however, we have mistaken silence for professional ethics.
There is a referral trap to it.
Some few doctors act as paid agents.
The tragedy isn’t just that the public doesn’t know; it’s that those who do know are often incentivised to look away.
Many local doctors are fully aware of the capabilities of our new private facilities, yet they continue to act as “agents” for foreign hospitals.
These practitioners are often paid commissions to funnel Zimbabwean patients abroad.
It is a lucrative cycle: the local doctor gets a kickback, the foreign hospital gets a patient and the Zimbabwean economy loses the much-needed foreign currency.
This “agent” system thrives specifically because there is no public counter-narrative.
When local excellence is gagged by advertising bans, the only voice a patient hears is the one whispering: “You must go to India to survive.”
What is the purpose of acquiring expensive innovation tools, going abroad for further education when the information will not be passed to the consumer?
As argued in my analysis Silence is Not Safety: Why Zimbabwe’s Ban on Medical Advertising is Killing Innovation, our restrictive regulations on medical communication are effectively subsidising foreign hospitals.
The reality: We have the infrastructure. PPPs have brought in the hardware.
The ghost that we are lacking as a nation is the “software” of communication.
By keeping our medical advancements a secret, we aren’t protecting the patient; we are blinding them.
We are forcing a father in Harare to fly to India for a procedure that could be done five miles from his home, simply because the local clinic was legally barred from telling him they have the machine — and his doctor was paid to tell him otherwise.
Reclaiming the narrative sees the media as an important partner.
If Zimbabwe is to truly reposition itself by the end of 2026, the “Silence is Safety” myth must be dismantled.
Local private facilities are anchors for the required medical hub.
It just requires more than just bricks and mortar; it requires a shift in policy that allows for ethical, informative medical marketing.
We must put our progress into the public space to break the monopoly of the “agent-doctor”.
Until we do that, US$400 million will continue to leave our borders every year, chasing the light of foreign hospitals because we refuse to turn on our own.
Safety isn’t found in the dark.
Innovation dies in silence.
It is time Zimbabwe allowed its medical excellence to speak louder than the kickbacks.