WHEN bulldozers rolled into Mushandike, Masvingo province, in early 2024, the life that Esther Mativenga had painstakingly built was reduced to rubble in a matter of minutes.
“It is like a thief in the night stole everything,” she said, struggling to contain the pain she still endures.
“This was not just a house; it was our future. We poured everything we had into it, believing sabhuku’s word.”
Esther’s ordeal is part of a much larger crisis unfolding across Zimbabwe, where illegal land allocations by some traditional leaders — known locally as sabhukus — are leaving families uprooted, penniless and homeless.
While the Mushandike incident grabbed headlines, similar tragedies are being reported throughout the country.
In Domboshava, settlements sprout overnight, only to be declared illegal months later.
It is the same case in Seke, where buyers discover too late that the letters of allocation they received are worthless.
In Kadoma, Chimanimani, Chihota and Gokwe, the same pattern repeats itself.
Most often, the land is sold under the guise of custom in transactions that are not recognised by the law.
Communities in the Matabeleland region are not spared too.
Villagers in Matobo and Lupane recount how plots were parcelled out by sabhukus without the approval of rural district councils (RDCs).
In Nkayi and Bulilima, desperate land seekers paid hefty fees, only to later realise that their landholdings had no legal standing.
From Chiredzi to Hwange, the evidence is clear: Sabhuku land deals are not isolated scams but a nationwide phenomenon destabilising families and entire communities.
The headlines may speak of demolitions and arrests, but behind each case are distraught victims.
John Mbava, a carpenter in Mushandike, had just completed a four-room home for his family when it was demolished.
“They took away more than bricks and mortar. They took away our hope,” he said.
Just outside Harare, 49-year-old Jotamu Ruwona was charged around US$3 000 per hectare by his sabhuku in Seke.
Only later did he learn the allocation was fraudulent, with proceeds allegedly shared among officials as kickbacks.
His family has been left in limbo, unsure whether to abandon their investment or fight for recognition.
These stories, though separated by geography, have a common theme of ordinary Zimbabweans desperate for land and paying the price for deals that are legally void from the outset.
It has now become common to witness upmarket houses tucked haphazardly among village thatched huts, creating a pattern that indicates poor planning.
Legal and planning experts argue this transformation stems from a thriving illegal land market that flourishes due to cheap prices and ease of purchase. Areas mostly affected are those surrounding Harare.
The law
Lands, Agriculture, Fisheries, Water and Rural Development Minister Dr Anxious Masuka has since clarified the issue.
“Once again, may I remind the public that, in terms of the Gazetted Lands (Consequential Provisions) Act (Chapter 20:28), it is a crime to occupy rural State land without authority. All illegal occupiers of such land should immediately vacate rural State land. Failure to vacate may result in prosecution,” he said in a recent statement.
His counterpart, Local Government and Public Works Minister Daniel Garwe, also shared the Government’s position.
“In Zimbabwe, chiefs should follow the Customary Law and Local Courts Act, the Communal Lands Act and the Constitution of the country. The chief should ensure that land is preserved; no land should be sold through sabhuku deals,” he said.
However, despite these clear directives, gaps in enforcement and limited awareness have allowed sabhukus to exploit the system.
Many issue letters on paper that bear signatures and stamps mimicking official RDC letterheads, giving a false veneer of legitimacy.
Similarly, there are reports that some parties do not enter into written agreements, even though they pay the required money to the seller.
Miriam Tose Majome, a lawyer and commissioner with the Zimbabwe Media Commission, argued in a contribution to one of our sister papers that “No title deeds or valid cessions are possible since all transactions violate the Communal Lands Act, which restricts communal land to kinship-based allocation.
“Under Section 8, communal land cannot be sold and occupancy rights cannot be ceded without proper authority . . . Section 3 vests communal land in the President, while Section 8 prohibits sales and unauthorised transfers.
“Only the rural district council, after consultation with traditional leaders, can allocate land rights. Chiefs and headmen lack authority to authorise land sales, though they may facilitate proper allocation procedures.”
Alarming cases
Between January and mid-February 2024, Operation “No to Land Barons and Illegal Settlements” resulted in 3 775 arrests, of which 985 people were convicted, while the remaining cases are before the courts.
Some of those arrested were sabhukus themselves; others were land barons and illegal settlers.
In Kadoma, for example, Sabhuku Ignatius Tazvivinga, under Chief Mupamombe, faces fraud charges for allegedly selling land owned by the Kadoma City Council.
He reportedly collected around US$250 per buyer using forged affidavits to purportedly legitimise the sales.
The prosecutions are just a tip of the iceberg.
The demand for land continues to outstrip supply, particularly around growth points and peri-urban settlements, creating fertile ground for unscrupulous actors.
For most victims, the decision to buy through a sabhuku is born not out of ignorance but desperation. Urban land is scarce and formal allocation processes are often lengthy and bureaucratic. Buyers, eager to secure a place to call their own, pay money upfront — sometimes labelled as “development levies” or “community contributions” — without realising that the sabhuku has no authority to sell.
Some sabhukus invoke customary rights, claiming traditional ownership of the land.
While customary law has an important place in local governance, it cannot override statutory provisions, leaving those who rely on it exposed to eviction.
Roots/Effects
The problem is compounded by the absence of digitised, up-to-date land records in many wards. This creates opportunities for the same plot to be sold multiple times, while delayed Government verification allows illegal transactions to flourish before intervention.
The consequences ripple far beyond the individuals directly affected.
Families like Esther’s and John’s are left without homes, livelihoods or security.
Children are uprooted from schools. Farmers lose access to arable land, undercutting local food production.
“Rather than continued prohibition without enforcement, Zimbabwe needs legislative reform to amend communal land legislation to create regulated markets that protect traditional rights while allowing controlled transfers,” Majome urges.
“There should be regularisation programmes and policies that develop mechanisms to legitimise existing settlements through proper planning and infrastructure provision,” she continues, also calling for institutional coordination to strengthen partnerships between rural district councils, traditional leaders and the Central Government to manage land allocation transparently.
Community education through deploying paralegals and extension officers to educate communities about legal implications before transactions occur, she adds, should be fostered.
“Alternative land delivery accelerates formal residential land systems and reduces pressure on communal areas,” notes Majome.
Professor Samuel Nyathi, a rural development expert, said this phenomenon has the adverse effect of eroding trust in national institutions.
“The socio-economic fallout extends beyond immediate families, destabilising entire communities and eroding trust in both traditional and Government institutions,” he said.
Economists warn that the effects are systemic.
Dr Lucia Moyo, a development economist, adds: “Access to land is central to livelihoods. When people lose land unlawfully, the ripple effects touch education, nutrition and employment. Illegal allocations undermine rural development, food security and national growth objectives.”
In Mushandike, demolitions were preceded by investigations into legitimate ownership, while local councils in other provinces are conducting similar drives.
Way forward
Civil society, however, warns against heavy-handed approaches.
They urge the Government to pursue due process, ensure transparency and consider compensation for affected families — many of whom were victims rather than willing participants in fraud.
The challenge, therefore, lies in balancing the need for law enforcement with the need to protect vulnerable citizens.
Thus, addressing sabhuku land deals requires a multi-pronged strategy that goes beyond demolitions and arrests.
For instance, some call for the need to strengthen enforcement by fast-tracking prosecutions of sabhukus and land barons while also providing clear, accessible information on legal land acquisition to protect would-be buyers.
At the same time, there is a call to digitise land records and develop modern information systems that allow citizens to easily verify ownership and prevent multiple sales of the same plot.
Another critical step is raising public awareness through nationwide campaigns on radio, in newspapers and via community meetings to warn communities about the dangers of illegal allocations.
Experts also emphasise the importance of empowering traditional leaders by training sabhukus and chiefs on their legal boundaries and responsibilities so that authority is exercised within the law.
It is also argued that the Government must provide alternative land access by expanding affordable and transparent housing schemes, reducing the desperation that drives citizens into the hands of land barons and sabhukus.
For families like Esther’s, the pain is raw, but the spirit of resilience endures.
“We may have lost our homes, but we have not lost hope,” she said, standing on the ruins of what once symbolised her family’s security.
Her story is both a warning and a call to action.
Unless the authorities close the gaps that allow sabhuku deals to thrive, more families will see their dreams bulldozed before their eyes.
As the nation pushes towards Vision 2030, ensuring that land remains a source of growth, stability and dignity — not displacement and despair — remains a priority. Zimpapers
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