THE mass eviction of over 7 000 residents from Old Willdale Compound in Mt Hampden has once again exposed the deepening crisis of disregard for human dignity in Zimbabwe.
The cries of mothers, the silence of weary fathers and the sight of children shivering by the roadside along the Harare-Chinhoyi Highway tell a story that pierces the national conscience.
As the rain pours down, these families find themselves sleeping in the open, huddled under makeshift plastic sheets, stripped of shelter and hope. It is a painful scene that confronts us with the question: where has our humanity has gone?
Willdale Bricks, wielding a High Court order, justified the evictions as a necessary legal action to reclaim land worth about US$3 million, which the company says was overrun by “illegal brickmakers”.
Legality, however, cannot justify cruelty. The way this process was carried out speaks volumes about the gap between law and empathy in our society. Witnesses recount how truckloads of police officers arrived at dawn, giving residents little or no time to gather their possessions. “We were ordered out, our property was destroyed, and we lost documents, clothes, food — everything,” lamented one man.
Thousands were left stranded in the open, with no sanitation facilities, no food supplies and no protection against disease. Many victims, including the elderly, children and persons with disabilities, were left at risk. Local councillor Clive Phiri said families were “exposed to the rains everyday,” noting that even temporary relief had been slow to reach them. The sight of men and women clutching damp blankets in the mud is a haunting reminder of a system that often acts without empathy for the lives it disrupts.
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Zvimba East MP Kudakwashe Mananzva later assured the public that “the caring Zanu PF-led government is committed to ensuring every affected family is resettled in safe and dignified conditions,” while Civil Protection Unit director Nathan Nkomo confirmed that land for relocation had been identified in Nyabira.
Yet, such responses come only after tragedy. By the time these assurances were made, the damage had already been done, trust had eroded and people had already suffered.
This pattern — official sympathy after suffering — has become a recurring theme in Zimbabwe’s social story.
From Operation Murambatsvina nearly two decades ago to more recent displacements in mining and urban areas, forced evictions have continued to scar communities that already live on the margins of survival.
The issue is not that landowners or companies seek to reclaim their property; it is the absence of humanity and foresight in how these processes are managed.
In a society rooted in Ubuntu — the belief that "I am because we are" — cannot allow corporate interests to override compassion.
True justice does not end with a court ruling; it begins with ensuring that human life and dignity are protected when laws are enforced. Government agencies, local authorities and private corporations all bear the collective responsibility to ensure no person is cast into the rain without refuge.
Humane processes require coordination, transparency and adequate time for resettlement and assistance. Evictions must be preceded by community consultation, not confrontation; by relocation planning, not destruction.
This tragedy must serve as a wake-up call. The government must establish a structured system that protects citizens during eviction and ensures their rights to shelter and safety.
Authorities need to coordinate with humanitarian agencies, churches and civil society to create an emergency support network that can provide temporary accommodation, food, medical care and psychological support during such crises.
Companies involved in reclaiming land should be compelled to contribute to relocation funds and be part of the solution rather than being the source of human misery.
Law enforcement agents, too, must be trained to uphold dignity in their operations, refraining from intimidation and violence against already vulnerable families.
At its core, this crisis is moral. It challenges each of us — as leaders, citizens and human beings — to reflect on what kind of society we are creating. No nation can claim to be progressing towards a brighter vision while its children sleep in the rain and its mothers beg for medicine by the roadside.
The principle of leaving no one behind must not remain a political slogan; it should guide the conscience of our governance and the soul of our nation.
Zimbabwe faces a simple yet profound choice: to continue down a path of indifference and brutality or to rediscover the spirit of Ubuntu that once defined us.
In these evictions, we see the measure of who we truly are — and perhaps, an opportunity to become better.