LAST Friday morning, I visited Matapi Hostels in Mbare as a concerned citizen of Harare.
Not with a camera to shame, but with eyes to see and a heart to understand.
And I must start by applauding what I saw.
The renovations led by Engineer Collins Mnangagwa through ED AID are visible.
For the first time in over two decades, there is paint on the walls that is not peeling.
There are builders fixing showers that have been leaking for years.
In the toilets, old, cracked, Smith-era vertical pans are being ripped out and replaced with new seated cisterns.
Most importantly, the sewer system is also being revamped. That cannot be overstated.
For years, burst sewers have run through the corridors of Mbare.
Children have walked through raw sewage to get to school.
The smell has been a permanent feature.
If this sewer system revamp is done properly, it will be the single biggest public health win for Mbare in a generation.
Electricity is also stable. Residents confirmed that they have always had 5 amp electricity systems in their rooms, and the good news is that there is no load-shedding now.
Lights stay on. Phones charge. Children can study at night.
That stability is progress we must acknowledge.
But as I stood in the corridors watching the work, I kept asking myself one question: Are we building something that will last, or are we painting over a problem?
Because progress without a plan becomes a problem later.
And I have three big questions that Engineer Collins, ED AID, City of Harare and the government must answer now, not later.
Question 1: Where will the water come from?
The new seated cisterns are beautiful. White, clean and modern. But they have one demand: water. Constant water.
In Mbare, and in most high-density areas, that is not our reality.
We live with water rationing. We live with dry taps for two to four days.
We live with 20-litre buckets and join queues as early as 4am.
So I ask directly: What happens to these cisterns when there is no water for three days?
Unlike the old squatting pans, a seated cistern cannot be flushed with a bucket.
The moment it is used without water, it blocks.
Waste stays in the bowl. The smell rises. Flies come. Disease follows.
We risk turning a dignity project into a health hazard.
My advice as a citizen is simple: Drill a solar-powered borehole in every hostel block, with a storage tank.
Matapi. Nenyere. Each block must have its own water source.
So that when City water fails, the toilet can still flush.
So that a girl can still wash during her period. So that a mother can still clean her child.
This is not a favour. It is law.
Section 77 of the Constitution of Zimbabwe is clear: “Every person has the right to safe, clean and potable water.”
We cannot install 21st century cisterns and depend on a 20th century water supply.
That is setting ourselves up for failure.
Question 2: Who will monitor after the renovations?
This is my biggest worry, and I saw it the moment I entered.
Who will monitor the cisterns? Who will ensure cleanliness? Who will stop vandalism?
These are council rented houses.
Thirty-five people sharing one toilet.
One toilet for 35 people means 35 different habits, 35 different understandings of hygiene, 35 opportunities for something to go wrong.
The City of Harare has a duty here.
After ED AID hands over, there must be caretakers. Cleaners. Monitors. Educators who teach residents how to use and protect the new facilities.
Without that, I am afraid. In six months, we will have blocked cisterns, broken seats and stolen parts.
We have seen this movie before. Renovations come. Applause comes. Then neglect comes. Then we are back to buckets and sewage.
Council must also answer a critical question of ownership and rentals.
After renovations, will these houses remain council property, or will they be leased to individuals?
If they are leased to private individuals, will residents be charged exorbitant rentals that a 3x3 room cannot justify?
Will we replace public neglect with private exploitation?
And what measures will council put in place to ensure consistency in rental payments?
Let us be honest about how Matapi got here.
Council’s argument has been: “Residents were not paying rentals, so we could not provide service.”
Residents’ argument has been: “We will pay rentals when we see service delivery.”
That cycle of blame gave us burst sewers, broken toilets and despair.
We cannot repeat it.
The new model must be: Service first. Dignity first.
Then payment will follow, because people pay when they see value.
Question 3: Protecting the 5 amp gain
Residents told me they have always had 5 amp electricity system in their rooms. That is good.
The current win is that there is no load shedding.
But my question is: How do we protect this gain?
A 3x3 room is not just a bedroom. It is a kitchen. It is a classroom. It is where children do homework at night.
If load-shedding returns, children in Matapi are the first to suffer.
If power goes at night, security becomes a problem.
A girl walking to the toilet in the dark is a girl at risk.
So council and ED AID must plan for backup power now while the lights are on.
Solar backup or a dedicated line for hostels should be considered before we face another crisis.
Because electricity is no longer a luxury. It is safety. It is education. It is dignity.
Let us not wait for darkness to remember the importance of light.
Are bachelor hostels fit for families?
There is another hard truth we must speak.
These hostels were built by the Smith regime for single male workers. Bachelors. 3 meters by 3 meters. One room.
That was the design. That was the intention.
Today, that same 3x3 room houses a mother, a father, and four children. It is a kitchen, a bedroom, and a study room.
You can paint the walls. You can install cisterns. You can revamp sewers.
But you cannot paint away overcrowding.
You cannot tile away a lack of privacy.
Section 28 of the Constitution calls for the “progressive realisation of the right to adequate housing”.
Adequate housing is space. It is privacy. It is not six people in a room built for one bachelor.
Government must be honest: Are we renovating hostels to keep people in inhumane conditions, or do we have a long-term plan to replace them with proper family flats?
Design and dignity: The details matter
The last thing I noticed was the design of the new toilets.
The cisterns are installed side by side with no proper partitions. No locks. No ventilation. No sanitary bins.
It looks exactly like a boys’ high school toilet, or a bachelor’s barrack from the 1950s.
But Matapi is not a school. It is home.
It is home to mothers. To daughters. To grandmothers.
In 2026, we cannot still use colonial designs for public toilets.
Dignity is in the details. Partitions. Locks. Light. Ventilation. A place to dispose of sanitary pads safely.
If we miss the details, we miss the point.
A final plea to all stakeholders
To Engineer Collins and ED AID: Thank you. Thank you for the paint, the cisterns, and the sewer revamp.
You have started something important. Please finish well.
Don’t leave before the borehole is drilled and the management plan is signed.
To City of Harare: Take responsibility after handover. Hire the staff. Monitor the facilities.
Collect rentals fairly and transparently. Show residents that payment equals service.
To the government: Answer the ownership question. And more importantly, start planning for real housing. Hostels were never meant to be permanent homes.
To residents: Let’s protect these renovations. This is our home.
But let’s also demand accountability. Clap hands when it is good. Speak out when it is wrong.
Because Mbare is not just a market hub. It is not just a bus terminus.
Mbare is home to thousands of Zimbabweans who work, pay tax, and raise children.
And home deserves water.
Home deserves working sewers.
Home deserves light.
Home deserves dignity.
If we don’t plan for management and water now, the newspaper will be back here in one year.
Writing the same story. About blocked cisterns. About broken sewers. About broken promises.
Mbare deserves better. Zimbabwe deserves better.