THE digital streets have been buzzing over a sensational story from Mutare, where a traditional marriage reportedly collapsed before it had even begun.
According to viral reports, a man named Blessing Togarepi paid US$3 573 in lobola on June 6, 2026, to formalise his union with his bride, Aisha. But things went south immediately; the marriage collapsed before Aisha ever set foot in Blessing’s home or spent a single night under his roof.
When Blessing demanded a full refund of his hard-earned money, the bride’s family flatly refused, offering him an insulting amount of US$1 as gupuro (divorce token) instead.
The aggrieved groom took the matter to Chief Mutasa, who rightly stepped in and ordered that the full bride price be refunded on the grounds that the marriage had never been consummated in any meaningful sense.
This viral incident exposes an ugly, growing trend that we can no longer sweep under the rug: the alarming commercialisation of lobola. What was traditionally designed as a sacred customary transaction meant to bridge two families, foster mutual respect, and cement a lifelong bond has increasingly been warped into a get-rich-quick scheme. Some women and their families are treating marriage like a high-stakes corporate buyout, cashing in on bride price with no genuine intention of building a foundation, let alone honouring the marital union. This is not empowerment — it is daylight robbery, and it crosses straight into the territory of marriage fraud.
As a feminist, I have always championed the dignity, autonomy, and rights of women. But true feminism is rooted in accountability, fairness, and the golden rule: we must do unto others what we expect to be done to us. How can we demand respect, equality, and honesty from society if we turn around and exploit ancient cultural customs for financial extortion? When families demand exorbitant sums and then orchestrate quick exits or invent convenient excuses afterward, they make a mockery of our customs.
Let us address the absurd justifications trailing this particular case. The family’s subsequent excuses involving health issues and the bride supposedly being a spirit medium insult our intelligence. Were these monumental, life-altering details kept secret until after the lobola was paid and collected? Matters of spiritual calling and chronic health challenges are foundational truths that belong on the table long before families ever gather for negotiations. Hiding them until after the cash changes hands is dishonest and manipulative.
Furthermore, offering a meagre US$1 as gupuro for a man who never even slept with or stayed with the bride is deeply offensive. It institutionalises bad faith and validates the worst fears of men who already harbour scepticism about traditional unions.
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Worse still, behaviour like this has dangerous cascading effects.
By scamming innocent men under the guise of custom, bad actors push stressed individuals to their absolute breaking points.
Not every man has the patience, resources, or temperament to take grievances through the traditional chief’s court system. Some men act on raw emotion and desperation, and when they do, situations can spiral into tragedies that change entire communities forever.
Lobola must reclaim its dignity as a symbol of respect and familial unity, rather than functioning as a tollgate for greed. If we want our culture to survive with its integrity intact, women and their families must stop treating marriage like a business venture.
Fraud is fraud, regardless of whether it is wrapped in traditional cloth.
Let us hold ourselves to a higher standard of honesty, because integrity is the only currency that will truly sustain us.
