AT the sun-baked, chaotic nexus of Huruyadzo St Mary’s shopping centre in Chitungwiza—Chi-Town, as the kids call it—26-year-old Tendai Kapolo taps rapidly on his phone.
His eyes lock on a tiny plane rising across the screen as if to pierce the top of the cracked glass.
This is not about saving the world; it is about saving himself from the day’s hardship.
As if in tune with Kapolo’s plight, a sweating crowd gathers around him—a human cordon pressing in on a single point of light amid a power cut.
That point is the fractured screen of his smartphone.
He is not just looking at a game anymore but the collective hopes of everyone around him.
In this circle of dust and desperation, Kapolo is the field operative, the broken glass, and the mission-control panel.
His thumb hovers over the Cash Out trigger, a digital lifeline.
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His eyes track the terrifying ascent of the tiny jet climbing into an invisible atmosphere of multipliers.
1,25×… 2,1×… 3,4×… the plane climbs.
Kapolo has wagered US$1—a sum that, in this part of town, can mean the difference between a meal and starvation.
With each passing second the pressure builds, amplified by the crowd’s heavy breathing.
Each flashing figure on his screen is a quantum leap, a chance to multiply a single bill into a small, life-altering fortune.
This is the point of no return.
Hold for the win, or pull out before the crash?
Kapolo hesitates but decides to gamble.
Then, with the brutal speed of a failed engine, the screen erupts in a RED FLARE.
The plane crashes.
A unified, visceral groan rips through the crowd like a shockwave.
Kapolo’s shoulders sag under the weight of the collective loss, knowing what it means for the evening—and maybe for the next day.
“I should’ve cashed out earlier,” he rasps, barely above a whisper, shoving the phone deep into his pocket to bury the stinging failure.
This high-speed, high-stakes electronic gamble is Aviator, the digital wildfire sweeping across Zimbabwe.
It is not just a betting game—it is a daily, minute-by-minute Mission Impossible played out on the streets, where survival itself hangs in the balance.
In a country where formal employment is scarce and inflation gnaws through savings, iMarket games such as Aviator, MWOS and JetX have become both lifeline and trap—a chance to snatch quick cash or fall into the void in the space of a few heartbeats.
For young people like Kapolo, formal employment keeps shrinking.
The Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency recently revealed that 76,1% of the economy is now informal.
The 23,9% formal sector has shrunk by 16,1 percentage points in just five years.
Hence, Aviator’s design is disarmingly simple to offer a chance at making some alternative income amid the shrinking availability of jobs.
Players place a bet before the virtual plane takes off.
As it climbs, the multiplier rises with it, promising ever-greater winnings to anyone bold enough to wait.
Cash out too early and you might miss a fortune.
Wait too long and the plane vanishes, taking every cent with it.
“I used to sell phone chargers, but profits were slow,” said 22-year-old Munashe Kwapura, now an Aviator agent in Chitungwiza.
“Now, I run a small booth where people come to play. I get a cut of every transaction. I can make up to US$20 a day on good days.”
That is US$600 a month—against an average salary of about US$360 for civil servants and US$300 to US$400 in the private sector, according to the Zimbabwe Confederation of Public Sector Trade Unions and the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions, respectively.
Beneath a faded umbrella and the thump of a Bluetooth speaker, the paper observes Kwapura’s table draw a steady stream of hopefuls armed with little more than a smartphone, a dollar, and the dream of getting lucky.
The lure is obvious: fast money, flashing lights, and the intoxicating sense that the next round could rewrite a life.
“I once turned US$2 into US$50 in under two minutes,” said 19-year-old student Lisa Chinoona, who plays on the MWOS platform.
“It felt like magic. But I’ve also lost more than I’ve won. It’s addictive, but when you don’t have much, it gives you hope.”
That hope can turn cruel.
Chinoona admitted she once skipped lunch for a week trying to recover money lost during a cold streak.
Mechanic Tinashe Bhunu still shakes his head at the night his younger brother lost an entire salary on Aviator.
“We only found out when he started borrowing money from my mother. He’s in debt now. Won’t admit he has a problem,” he said.
Harare-based counselor Constance Moyo warns that stories like these are multiplying faster than regulators can respond.
“We’re witnessing a disturbing rise in gambling addiction, affecting not just adults but also vulnerable populations like school dropouts and university students,” she said.
“What often begins as a harmless bet for fun quickly escalates into a cycle of debt, family tension, and depression. The consequences are far-reaching, impacting not only the individual but also their loved ones.”
Unlike traditional casinos, she explained, these games are played privately or among peers, making it harder for families to detect danger.
“The proliferation of informal betting kiosks in high-density areas is alarming. These kiosks often operate without proper regulation, making them easily accessible to minors and other vulnerable individuals,” Moyo said.
“This lack of oversight is contributing to a culture of instant gratification, where people are more focused on quick wins than on hard work and savings. It’s reshaping attitudes toward financial responsibility and stability, and it’s having a devastating impact on our communities.”
Despite their popularity, most iMarket platforms operate beyond the reach of Zimbabwe’s Lotteries and Gaming Board (LGB), which traditionally regulates casinos and betting shops under the Lotteries and Gaming Act (Chapter 10:26).
Presenting a report to the Parliamentary Portfolio Committee on Defence, Home Affairs, Security Services and War Veterans Affairs, LGB interim secretary Misheck Chingozha admitted the challenge.
“The past few years have seen an upsurge of investment in the gambling industry by both foreign and local investors,” he said.
“As a result, gambling density became a cause for concern.”
Government has introduced a 10% withholding tax on sports betting winnings, effective January 1, 2025, but legislation still lags behind the lightning pace of online gaming.
According to the Zimbabwe iGaming Market Research Report released in May, done by iGamingToday, the local igaming market became a US$54,56 million industry in 2023, with mobile gaming accounting for US$34,92 million.
“Penetration of users is projected to increase to 28% by 2027, reflecting substantial scope for growth,” iGamingToday said in the report.
“The market for gaming equipment alone is US$9 million in 2025 with a projected CAGR (Compound annual growth rate) of 3,68% to 2029.”
The growth of the sector is based on the mobile and internet penetration rate in Zimbabwe.
“The future of Zimbabwe’s iGaming sector appears promising, with continuous growth expected as smartphone technology develops further and internet infrastructure is created in greater depth. The integration of AR/VR technologies and local-themed casino games should improve the player experience,” iGamingToday said.
“Mobile gaming of casinos, if regulated effectively, can be a significant booster for Zimbabwe’s digital economy, with employment generation and tax yields being created, putting the country in a competitive position within the regional gaming market.”
In the Postal and Telecommunications Regulatory Authority of Zimbabwe second quarter report for the year, active mobile subscriptions increased by 1,23% to 16 089 628 from the previous quarter.
Hence, the mobile penetration rate increased by 1,25 percentage points to 102,64% over the two quarters.
This is against a population of 15 178 957, according to the Zimbabwe National Statistics Agency’s 2022 Population and Housing Census.
“Active Internet/data subscriptions increased by 7,4% from 11 942 857 to 12 827 031, hence, internet penetration rate went up by 5,64 percentage points from 76,19% to 81,83%,” Potraz said.
“Broadband penetration rate went up by 5,5 percentage points from 74,37% to 79,87%... Mobile Internet/data traffic increased significantly by 17,31% from 114,02 Petabytes recorded in first quarter to 130,14 Petabytes.”
iGamingToday is a website the tracks and follows the igaming industry globally and is based in Malta.
“There is nothing inherently evil about these games. Worldwide, they are popular entertainment even for adults. The issue is when they become a substitute for gainful employment because of the state of the economy,” economist Vince Musewe said.
“They then develop a culture of instant gratification gambling and destroy the work ethic. That is where the problem starts. Gambling is a destructive habit and can lead to all sorts of crimes and suffering.”
The harsh truth?
“Until the economy is revived, this will continue as youths try to fill the vacuum created by non-employment and boredom. This can worsen the drug problem if money won is spent,” Musewe said.
“We have a serious problem reversing these habits, and our youths are in serious trouble.”
Back in Huruyadzo, as evening deepens, Kapolo edges back into the queue, another crumpled dollar in his hand.
The crowd tightens, eyes bright beneath flickering streetlights.
A fresh round of Aviator is about to begin.
On the screen, the tiny jet appears again, rising into a sky where fortunes can soar or vanish in the blink of an eye.
Kapolo half-smiles, defiant against the odds.
“Maybe this one’s the win,” he says.
For players, iMarket gaming represents more than a bet—it is a chance to beat the odds stacked against them by a system that often offers little else.
But behind the screens, flashing numbers, and cheering crowds, a deeper story is playing out—one of hope, risk, survival, and the cost of chasing the sky.
