By Jameson Timba
The death of Wicknell Chivayo has produced one of the most uncomfortable public conversations Zimbabwe has witnessed in recent times.
There has been genuine grief. There have been moving tributes from people whose lives he touched. His generosity was real: vehicles, cash and other forms of assistance went to musicians, church leaders, institutions and individuals.
But there has also been something deeply troubling.
A significant number of Zimbabweans openly celebrated his death, particularly on social media.
I do not.
My African upbringing teaches me afa anaka—in death, we temper our quarrels with humanity. My Christian faith teaches me that the final judgment of another human being belongs to God, not to me.
I differed profoundly with aspects of what Wicknell represented in our public life. But I cannot celebrate his death.
Yet merely condemning those who did would be too easy.
Leadership demands that we ask a harder question:
Why did so many Zimbabweans feel that way?
CAR-PARK PHILANTHROPY
Zimbabweans are not hostile to generosity.
Ubuntu teaches that those who have should remember those who do not. We celebrate people who pay school fees for vulnerable children, support widows, build clinics and help communities in distress.
The discomfort surrounding Wicknell’s philanthropy therefore cannot simply be dismissed as jealousy of success.
Something deeper was happening.
I call it car-park philanthropy.
Luxury vehicles became its most visible currency. A beneficiary would be announced. A vehicle would be presented. Photographs would follow. The value of the gift frequently became part of the story.
It was generosity conducted as spectacle.
There is nothing inherently wrong with publicly giving someone a car. Nor is there anything wrong with a wealthy person enjoying his wealth.
But context matters.
In a country where hospitals struggle, pensioners survive on very little, young graduates search endlessly for work and millions confront daily economic insecurity, repeated displays of extraordinary private wealth inevitably acquire social and political meaning.
And Wicknell was not perceived simply as another businessman.
He was publicly associated with the political establishment, openly supported the President and ruling party, and was connected to major public-sector contracts. His business dealings and accumulation of wealth had attracted public controversy and scrutiny.
Not every allegation against him was proved. That distinction matters.
But public perception matters too.
WHEN THE SOURCE OF WEALTH BECOMES PART OF THE GIFT
This is where philanthropy and accountability collide.
When a successful entrepreneur gives away part of a fortune whose origins are broadly understood, society can judge the generosity largely on its own terms.
But where serious public questions surround the accumulation of wealth, every spectacular gift risks provoking another question:
Where did the money come from?
A luxury vehicle then becomes more than a vehicle. It becomes a symbol.
And when beneficiaries include politically connected people, prominent religious figures, celebrities and other influential individuals, citizens may ask another legitimate question:
Why them?
That does not prove that any particular gift was improper. Nor does it erase the genuine benefit received by the recipient.
But philanthropy cannot require citizens to suspend their critical faculties.
PHILANTHROPY OR PATRONAGE?
There is a difference between philanthropy and patronage.
Philanthropy seeks primarily to address a social need.
President Emmerson Mnangagwa seen here with prominent tenderpreneur Wicknell Chivayo (Picture via Facebook – Wicknell Chivayo)
Patronage distributes benefits through relationships and networks.
The distinction is not always neat. People give for many reasons—compassion, faith, friendship, gratitude and recognition.
But enduring philanthropy builds institutions larger than the donor.
Imagine millions invested systematically in scholarships for disadvantaged children, rural maternity facilities, cancer treatment, libraries, laboratories or revolving funds for young entrepreneurs.
Imagine a professionally governed charitable foundation with transparent criteria and independently audited accounts.
Such philanthropy does more than change the car one person drives.
It changes the possibilities available to thousands of people the donor may never meet.
That is the difference between car-park philanthropy and nation-building philanthropy.
DIGNITY MATTERS
Extreme inequality also changes how conspicuous generosity is experienced.
A struggling citizen watching another person receive a vehicle worth more than they might earn in decades may not experience the spectacle simply as generosity.
They may experience it as a reminder of exclusion.
That feeling becomes stronger where people believe that proximity to political power, celebrity or influential networks determines access to opportunity.
Whether every such perception is justified is not the point. A society cannot ignore widespread perceptions indefinitely.
When citizens begin believing that prosperity flows through connections rather than institutions, resentment grows.
The answer is not to hate wealthy people.
The answer is to build a society where wealth creation is transparent, opportunity is broad and success does not depend upon proximity to political power.
HIS DEATH SHOULD MAKE US THINK, NOT CELEBRATE
I therefore reject two extremes.
I reject attempts to erase legitimate questions about Wicknell simply because he has died.
But I equally reject celebrating his death.
Death leaves grieving families and people who genuinely loved the deceased. Political disagreement cannot erase that humanity.
But mourning should not erase legitimate public questions either.
The reaction to Wicknell’s death tells us something important about the reservoir of anger in our society.
Those in authority should study it rather than merely condemn it.
When citizens celebrate the death of a wealthy businessman, leadership should not ask only:
What has happened to our people?
We must also ask:
What has happened to our society?
What political and economic conditions produce such resentment?
Why do some citizens look at spectacular wealth and see success while others see injustice?
Why did philanthropy that undoubtedly benefited many individuals fail to produce corresponding public affection?
Those are uncomfortable questions.
But nations progress by confronting uncomfortable questions.
THE LESSON
Zimbabwe needs successful entrepreneurs. We need wealthy Zimbabweans. We need philanthropists.
We should celebrate those who create genuine value, employ people, pay taxes and use their success to lift communities.
But we need something even more fundamental: institutions through which the road to prosperity is understood, opportunity is broadly accessible, public contracts withstand scrutiny and wealth does not require political proximity to flourish.
That is ultimately the limitation of car-park philanthropy.
You can give away cars.
You can distribute millions.
You can generate headlines, gratitude and loyalty.
You can genuinely transform individual lives.
But there is one thing money cannot command: Public affection.
That must be earned.
Perhaps that is the deepest lesson from the divided reaction to Wicknell Chivayo’s death.
Philanthropy without public confidence cannot manufacture legitimacy.
Let us therefore not celebrate his death.
Let us learn from his life.
The Zimbabwe we should aspire to build is not one where citizens wait in car parks hoping that a wealthy benefactor notices them.
It is one where strong institutions, honest enterprise and equal opportunity give citizens the means to build dignified lives for themselves.
Senator Jameson Z. Timba is a former Minister of State in the Prime Minister’s Office (2009–2013), Founding Principal of Sungano yeVanhu – Ubumbano Lomphakathi (The People’s Coalition), Convenor of the Defend the Constitution Platform (DCP), Presidium member of the Progressive Alliance, and a political leader.
