Tendai Ruben Mbofana
The flashing cameras and the rhythmic thumping of hands in applause have become a familiar annual fixture in the Zimbabwean political calendar.
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For the fifth year running, the nation watched as President Emmerson Mnangagwa presided over the signing of Performance Contracts by a wide array of government officials, local authorities, and heads of state enterprises.
On the surface, this ceremony carries the weight of modern corporate governance, suggesting a state that is finally pivoting toward a culture of results, meritocracy, and service delivery.
It is a spectacle designed to project an image of a disciplined administration where every minister, permanent secretary, local authority leader, and parastatal head is held to a rigorous standard.
However, as the ink dries on these latest documents, a far more sobering reality persists outside the halls of power.
For the suffering people of Zimbabwe, these contracts have increasingly begun to look like a choreographed charade, a hollow ritual that rewards the loyal while granting a free pass to those whose failures have left the country in a state of terminal decay.
The trajectory of this program since its inception in 2021 has been one of steady expansion but stagnant impact.
What began with Permanent Secretaries was soon extended to Cabinet Ministers in 2022, and eventually ballooned to include local authorities, state universities, and owned enterprises.
Year after year, the public is treated to images of high performing officials receiving awards and recognition for supposedly meeting their targets.
Yet, there is a glaring, systemic omission that renders the entire exercise meaningless.
In the half decade that these contracts have existed, the nation is yet to see a single high ranking official publicly reprimanded, demoted, or dismissed for failing to meet their set targets.
In a functional democracy, a performance contract is a double edged sword that offers rewards for excellence and severe consequences for incompetence.
In Zimbabwe, the sword appears to have only one edge.
Taking no visible action against those failing to fulfill their mandates turns a tool for accountability into a mere public relations gimmick.
No one can deny that Zimbabwe is a nation in the throes of a deep and protracted crisis, a state of affairs that has persisted for two and a half decades.
The evidence of this collapse is not found in government reports or colorful signing ceremonies but in the lived experience of millions of citizens.
Everything is practically in ruins.
Our roads throughout the country are in a deplorable state, transformed into vehicle-wrecking death traps and obstacle courses that hinder the movement of goods and people.
To sign a contract pledging to maintain infrastructure while the very arteries of our economy crumble is an insult to the intelligence of the taxpayer.
The crisis in our public health system is perhaps the most harrowing indictment of this lack of accountability.
Thousands of Zimbabweans are needlessly losing their lives every year because our public hospitals lack the most basic essentials.
It is a national tragedy that in 2026, a major referral hospital can run out of bandages, essential medicines, and basic diagnostic equipment.
In many rural corners of the country, the distance to the nearest healthcare facility remains an insurmountable barrier, with citizens forced to walk over 15 kilometers just to seek medical attention.
We hear of performance targets being met, yet we see patients dying because there are inadequate functional cancer machines or because a simple treatable infection went unmanaged due to a lack of supplies.
If a minister or a hospital CEO presides over such a catastrophe and still receives a salary and a seat at the signing table, then the word performance has lost all its meaning.
The situation in our urban centers is equally dire.
We have towns and cities that have gone for years without a single drop of tap water.
This is not a temporary inconvenience but a full scale humanitarian crisis that forces residents to rely on unsafe shallow wells or queue for hours at crowded boreholes.
How does a town clerk remain in office, or better yet, how are they allowed to sign a new contract when the town they run is riddled with potholed streets and parched pipes?
The lack of tap water for over five years in a modern municipality should be grounds for immediate dismissal, yet these officials continue scot-free, protected by a system that values the optics of signing a paper over the reality of delivering a service.
Our education system, once the pride of the continent, is also in a state of visible decline.
Public schools, particularly in rural areas, lay in ruins.
In many districts, pupils are still subjected to the indignity of learning under trees because there are no proper structures.
These schools lack books, chairs, and desks, let alone the science labs and digital tools required for a modern education.
When we see the leadership in charge of these sectors participating in the pomp and fanfare of yesterday, we must ask where the accountability lies for the child who cannot read because there is no textbook or the teacher who has no classroom.
A performance contract that does not address the fundamental right to a quality education is nothing more than a scrap of paper.
Beyond the collapse of social services, the economic landscape remains bleak.
Employment remains unacceptably high, with estimates placing it at over 90 percent, leaving a generation of young, educated Zimbabweans with no prospect of a formal career.
Significant investment remains elusive because the very officials signing these contracts have failed to create an environment of transparency and rule of law that attracts capital.
Visionary and competent leadership is the only way to overcome these challenges, and the performance contract system was supposed to be the mechanism to ensure such leadership emerged.
Instead, it has become a shield for the status quo.
For the nation to take this program seriously, the cycle of endless rewards and zero consequences must end.
We need to see heads roll.
We need to see the government demonstrate that failure has a price.
When a target is missed, there must be a visible reprimand.
When a sector remains in shambles despite years of promises, there must be a change in leadership.
Merely rewarding a few officials who managed to perform well while ignoring the vast majority who are messing up is not helpful at all.
It creates a culture of mediocrity where the goal is not to transform the lives of the people but simply to navigate the bureaucracy well enough to avoid embarrassment.
The crisis in Zimbabwe is not a result of a lack of resources or a lack of talent.
It is a result of a lack of accountability.
As long as there are no severe consequences for failure, the signing of performance contracts will remain a meaningless exercise in political theater.
The people of Zimbabwe are tired of the pomp and the fanfare.
They are tired of watching officials celebrate while their own lives remain stuck in a cycle of poverty and deprivation.
If the government truly wishes to be taken seriously, it must move beyond the ceremony and embrace the hard work of genuine oversight.
Accountability is not found in the stroke of a pen during a televised event but in the courage to remove those who are not fit for the task.
Until we see that courage, these contracts will remain a symbol of a leadership that is more concerned with looking like it is working than actually doing the work.
- 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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