THE passing on of political activist Linda Masarira, who reportedly died in her sleep, has once again exposed a deep, troubling wound within Zimbabwean society.
It is a wound that goes beyond standard political disagreements, reaching into the very core of our shared humanity.
First and foremost, death is a solemn moment that calls for respect, reflection and dignity.
We extend our deepest, most sincere condolences to Linda Masarira’s family, her loved ones and her friends.
Losing a mother, a friend, and a sister so suddenly is a painful experience and no family should have to mourn their loved one under the heavy cloud of public hostility.
Regrettably, the aftermath of her passing away has been defined by a shocking wave of bitterness on social media.
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Because she supported the controversial Constitution Amendment No 3 Bill, many people labelled her a sellout, with some even calling her a spy.
The digital space quickly inundated with brutal comments; some individuals even described her death as "karma" and used the occasion to vent their long-held political frustrations.
Even within political circles, mixed feelings emerged. Opposition figure Jacob Ngarivhume expressed his personal grievances, publicly noting how he had looked after her and her family during her time in prison, only to feel deeply betrayed by her choices upon her release.
These reactions paint a vivid picture of a society where political opinions are treated as matters of life and death, leaving no room for human kindness.
Amid this storm of harsh reactions, a few voices chose a path of dignity. Investigative journalist Hopewell Chin'ono, despite being a fierce critic of the status quo and often holding vastly different views, expressed his sadness over her passing on.
By openly setting his political differences aside to respect the dead, Chin'ono demonstrated the exact kind of maturity that our national conversation desperately needs. His gesture stands as a reminder that it is entirely possible to disagree with someone’s political views without wishing for their destruction or celebrating their demise.
This situation forces us to look in the mirror and ask hard questions about who we are becoming as Zimbabweans. Does holding a different view justify a total lack of compassion? Does supporting a different political party mean we must separate ourselves as human beings, refusing to share even the basic empathy of grief? When political anger causes people to mock a family’s grief, the hatred has clearly gone too far.
Guided by the social responsibility theory that shapes our communal life here in Africa, we must remember that our actions do not exist in a vacuum. We are bound by the timeless philosophy of Ubuntu, derived from the Zulu phrase umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu — a person is a person through other people. In Shona, we say kuti munhu anzi munhu vanhu. This means our individual humanity is entirely dependent on how we recognise and respect the humanity of others. Love, empathy and solidarity should be shown mostly in these difficult times of bereavement, regardless of the path the deceased walked in life. How we respond to the tragedy of popular or controversial public figures is not just a personal vendetta or an outlet for political frustration; it is a direct reflection of who we are as a people.
This current climate of hostility is simply not who we are, nor is it who we should be. Political opinions are fluid; they change with seasons, leadership and personal experiences, but our the cultural fabric and our shared humanity are permanent. Masarira was a complex figure who made her own choices, but she was also a human being who dedicated portions of her life to activism and faced prison for her beliefs. Disagreeing with her political shifts is a democratic right, but celebrating her death is a collective moral failure. As a nation, if we do not learn to separate political debate from basic human empathy, we risk building a future built entirely on spite. True progress will only begin when we reclaim our cultural values and realise that a different political opinion does not make someone an enemy unworthy of a peaceful rest.