For weeks, the people of Guruve lived as prisoners in their own land, their freedom quietly stolen by a murderer who moved like a ghost among them.

Each day dawned with uncertainty, each night closed in with dread, as villagers measured every step and weighed every journey against the risk of not returning.

Once a bustling service centre humming with trade, laughter and the easy rhythm of rural life, Guruve service centre fell into an unnatural hush.

Shops closed early, conversations were whispered and familiar meeting points emptied, leaving behind a place barely recognisable, a centre drained of its pulse, reduced to a nervous silhouette of what it had been.

The streets, once alive with footsteps and voices, lay eerily still.

When people did venture out, they walked quickly and warily, heads turning at every sound, eyes scanning shadows, fear etched into their movements.  Silence became the loudest presence, broken only by cautious steps and the pounding of anxious hearts.

Fear had moved in and made itself at home.

It crept into kitchens and bedrooms, hovered over fields and footpaths, and settled deep in the hearts of a community struggling to make sense of the terror gripping it.

Trust thinned, sleep became elusive and the ordinary comforts of village life vanished.

By yesterday, 12 lives had been lost in just 11 harrowing days — a grim toll that left Guruve shaken and traumatised, cowering under the weight of an unseen predator who struck without warning and vanished without a trace.

The long nightmare finally eased yesterday with the arrest of the prime suspect, a man known to the community — fellow villager Anymore Zvitsva (32).

His capture marked the end of a dark chapter, bringing cautious relief to a community desperate to breathe again, even as it begins the painful task of healing.

But for 27-year-old businessman, Norest Kambizi, the terror became painfully personal.

Barely a year into his marriage, he was swept up in the dragnet of suspicion, wrongly arrested and accused of the murders that had paralysed Guruve district.

Kambizi and his uncle, a modest recycler eking out a living collecting plastics from dumpsites, were taken into custody after police allegedly linked them to the first five killings.

On the day of their arrest, he had simply visited his uncle at a nearby dumpsite, a routine stop that turned into a nightmare.

They spent two days behind bars at Guruve Police Station, accused of unspeakable crimes, while life outside carried on with tragic indifference.

Two more murders occurred in the same pattern while they were still in custody, effectively clearing them, yet leaving scars that would not fade.

“I still cannot comprehend what exactly happened. I am hurt and do not wish to talk about it,” Kambizi said, his voice cracking with the weight of memory.

“My wife visited me while I was in custody, but we could not even speak. We were traumatised. The arrest tore my family apart and some relatives and friends have disowned me.”

Even freed, and in the shadow of Zvitsva’s capture, Kambizi still moves under a cloud of suspicion, fear and stigma, a living reminder of the trauma that fear can impose.

The predator in plain sight

After police named Zvitsva as the prime suspect, a massive operation was instituted, combining the Zimbabwe Republic Police and the Zimbabwe National Army, deploying patrols, drones, canine units and horse-mounted teams to track him through the scrub and villages.

By this time, families had resorted to huddling together in homes, sleeping in groups, while fields were untended and public spaces abandoned.

Life had slowed to a careful, measured pace, each step a negotiation with fear.

Yet, Zvitsva was no stranger to the villages, and few imagined he could evolve into their worst nightmare.

Villagers remembered him as a thief, a troublemaker, a shadow on the edges of society. Born to a notorious thief known locally as Fresher, Zvitsva and his siblings never attended school, surviving instead by hunting, stealing and foraging.

After the deaths of both parents, the children were left in the care of their grandmother.

While his siblings slowly integrated into society, Zvitsva retreated into isolation.

“We have known him since he was a kid; together with his siblings they were raised in the jungle by their parents,” said Tinei Gweshe, a villager.

“I believe that Zvitsva’s problems stem from a messed-up upbringing and with age, he also started stealing just like his father.”

Over time, he became a figure to fear.

Many avoided him, elders refused to intervene in disputes and neighbours whispered cautionary tales.

Sarudzai, a former neighbour, saw echoes of Zvitsva’s past crimes in the killing spree.

“Whenever he entered a compound to go and steal, he would tie their doors to trap people inside. That is what was happening at these murders,” she said.

“It is painful to accept that he is the killer, although we have known him as a criminal who carried around a machete.”

 Life in lockdown

The fear was suffocating.

Edith Guhwa, 68, described a life of constant anxiety.

“We could not even attend to our fields and our crops were being overtaken by weeds,” she said. “We sleept in groups and whenever we heard sounds outside, fear crippled us even with the army and police around.”

Zvitsva reportedly returned to Guruve earlier this year after serving a two-year prison sentence.

Barefoot, poorly dressed, often carrying a solar-powered radio, he was said to stay informed of the manhunt.

Some of his relatives, including his 107-year-old grandmother, were now in custody for allegedly assisting him.

A family torn apart

Perhaps the most heart-wrenching account comes from Reason, Zvitsva’s niece.

She now cared for her grandmother’s home after losing her mother, siblings and nieces, the first five victims of the murders.

“He killed my mother because she attempted to reprimand him for his behaviour,” she said. “He threatened her and said he would come for her blood.”

Reason described Zvitsva’s traits.

“He now has a scar on his face,” she said. “He is a very fast runner, which also explains why villagers failed to nab him countless times he had been spotted.

The toll on a district

The psychological weight was heavy. Children, unused to heavy security presence, were traumatised.

A local transport operator, speaking anonymously, said the festive season was robbed of joy.

“Our children did not enjoy the festive season and they were struggling to adjust to this new way of life,” he said.

Now Guruve district can hold a collective breath, stepping out of fear and back into the life that once was.

The breakthrough in the murder cases is bound to restore normalcy in the area, especially as schools open for the new term within a few days ahead.