Tendai Ruben Mbofana
The funeral insurance industry in Zimbabwe has long been shielded by the somber sanctity of death, operating within a space where grieving families are hesitant to question the cold arithmetic of their loss.
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For decades, companies like Nyaradzo and Doves have embedded themselves into the national psyche, marketed not merely as financial services but as indispensable cultural anchors.
The slogan “Sahwira Mukuru” suggests a best friend in a time of need, yet beneath the polished hearses and the professional veneer of “celebrating life” lies a structural exploitation that is increasingly difficult to ignore.
The current model, defined by life-long premiums and the absolute absence of paid-up status, is no longer a safety net.
For many, it has become a predatory drain on the meager resources of a struggling population.
It is time to ask the uncomfortable question of whether these policies are designed to provide dignity to the dead or to extract an infinite tribute from the living.
The fundamental grievance lies in the mathematical absurdity of the “everlasting premium.”
In a standard, fair insurance market, a policyholder expects a point of maturity—a moment where, after fifteen or twenty years of consistent contribution, the policy becomes “paid-up.”
At this stage, the individual has contributed enough capital for the insurer to cover the eventual risk while still turning a profit.
In Zimbabwe, however, the dominant players have historically resisted this evolution.
They operate on a model where a citizen can pay premiums for twenty-five years, totaling upwards of $5,000 in hard-earned currency, only to see the entire investment vanish if they encounter a three-month financial hurdle in the twenty-sixth year.
This “annually renewable” trap ensures that the client never truly owns their peace of mind.
They are merely renting it, with the threat of total forfeiture hanging over their heads until their final breath.
This lack of equity is not just a business choice; it is a moral failure that preys on the economic volatility of Zimbabwe.
In a country where currency devaluations and shifting employment landscapes are the norm, the “pay-to-stay” model is a weaponized form of loyalty.
The insurer knows that after ten years of payments, the client is “locked in” by the fear of losing their historical contributions.
They continue to pay, not because the service offers competitive value, but because the alternative is a total loss of decades of savings.
When a policyholder pays $5,000 over a lifetime for a funeral package that costs the service provider a fraction of that to execute, the transaction ceases to be insurance.
It becomes a massive, unregulated wealth transfer from the poor to the corporate elite.
The defense often mounted by these institutions is built on the concept of risk.
They argue that insurance is a “pooled” resource where those who live longer subsidize those who die early.
While this is a basic tenet of insurance, it fails to account for the lack of a “ceiling” in the Zimbabwean context.
In the funeral sector, the benefit is a fixed service with a clear market price.
When the total premiums paid by a healthy, long-lived individual exceed the cost of the funeral five times over, the risk argument collapses into a justification for profiteering.
Even when the insurer provides a cash payout, such as $600 alongside the casket and transport, the math remains a betrayal.
A payout of $600 plus a service package worth perhaps $1,000 still leaves the insurer with a staggering profit margin of several thousand dollars taken from a single policyholder.
The policyholder is no longer paying for risk; they are paying for the insurer’s sprawling real estate portfolios and corporate expansion.
Furthermore, the service-based nature of these policies is a clever way to obscure the actual value of the payout.
By bundling transport and a casket with a modest cash allowance, insurers dodge the transparency of inflation-adjusted payouts.
This lack of cash transparency prevents policyholders from realizing just how little they are getting in return for their decades of loyalty.
It is a system that thrives on the ambiguity of “kind” rather than the clarity of “cash.”
The Insurance and Pensions Commission (IPEC) has finally begun to stir, acknowledging the high “lapse ratios” that characterize this industry.
When industry data shows that over 4% of policies lapse annually, it represents millions of dollars in “donated” premiums that the insurers keep without ever having to provide a service.
This is the ultimate “free money” for the industry, harvested from the desperation of those who have fallen into financial hardship.
Recent regulatory shifts toward demanding “cash-in-lieu” options and “paid-up” clauses are a welcome start, but they face stiff resistance from an industry built on the assumption of infinite, non-maturing cash flows.
The regulator must move beyond suggestions and enforce a hard cap on premium duration.
If a person has paid the equivalent of the funeral’s market value plus a reasonable administrative margin, the policy must be declared paid-up.
Anything less is state-sanctioned usury.
The psychological toll of this system cannot be overstated.
Zimbabweans are a people who value a decent burial above almost all other social obligations.
This cultural priority has been commodified and exploited.
Families live in a constant state of anxiety, prioritizing the funeral premium over school fees or healthcare, terrified that the death of the policy will precede the death of the person.
This fear is the engine of the industry.
It is a cycle that keeps the population in a state of perpetual financial insecurity, funneling the “black tax” of funeral expenses into the pockets of a few dominant corporations that have become too big to fail.
As citizens become more financially literate, the exodus toward funeral cash plans and community burial societies is a natural reaction to this exploitation.
A cash plan that pays out a fixed, substantial sum allows a family to dictate the terms of the funeral, shop for the best prices, and keep the remaining balance to support the survivors.
This is a far more empowering model than being handed a pre-set cash pittance and a casket by an insurer who has already profited fivefold from the deceased.
The shift toward these alternatives is a silent protest against a model that has remained stagnant and extractive for too long.
In the final analysis, the funeral insurance industry in Zimbabwe requires a radical restructuring of its social contract.
It is unacceptable for a service meant to provide relief in times of grief to function as a lifelong financial burden that offers no equity.
The industry must be forced to adopt maturity dates, surrender values, and transparent cash payouts that reflect the true value of decades of contributions.
Until then, the glitzy advertisements and the fleets of luxury hearses will remain a bitter reminder of the wealth being extracted from the pockets of those who can least afford it.
A funeral policy should be a shield against the costs of death, not a parasite that sucks the life out of the living.
- Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. To directly receive his articles please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08
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