CHAMISA’ RECENT VIDEO DIVIDES ZIMBABWEANS: HOPE OR SILENCE?

By Shelton Muchena

Just before dawn, as Zimbabwe’s cities stir and its townships awaken under the familiar weight of economic hardship, millions of opposition supporters reach for their phones in search of reassurance a message, a signal, a reminder that their leader is near.
Instead, they find a video.
A man walks through the bright aisles of a supermarket, speaking calmly of endurance and resolve.
To many viewers, it appears current. To devoted followers, it offers comfort. But to a growing number of observers, it raises a disturbing question: why does yesterday keep presenting itself as today?

At the centre of this unease is Nelson Chamisa, Zimbabwe’s former opposition leader and once the unmistakable face of generational change. For years, he electrified crowds, challenged entrenched power, and embodied the aspirations of millions who believed Zimbabwe stood on the cusp of renewal.
Today, that belief is being tested not by defeat alone, but by silence.

In recent months, concerns have quietly but persistently surfaced among supporters and analysts alike regarding Chamisa’s whereabouts. Social media discussions, private messaging groups, and political forums have been filled with speculation suggesting that he may no longer be based in Zimbabwe, despite public-facing communications that appear to imply otherwise. These claims have not been officially confirmed or denied.

What has intensified the unease is the resurfacing of old video content footage posted again in 2024 and later, without clear context, mirroring material first shared months earlier. To critics, it suggests an intentional blurring of timelines. To supporters, it feels like being taken for granted.

In politics, perception is reality’s close cousin. And in the vacuum left by a lack of direct communication, perception hardens into doubt.

This unfolding moment is about far more than geography. African liberation history is replete with leaders who operated from exile, some with great effectiveness. Few, however, built enduring credibility through ambiguity. Movements survive on trust, and trust erodes fastest when supporters feel excluded from the truth especially when they have already paid a price for belief.

Those who stood in long queues, faced intimidation, or lost livelihoods in the name of democratic change now ask quietly what they once asked loudly of others: where is accountability, and to whom is it owed?

No law requires a political leader to reside within national borders at all times. But moral authority the kind that sustains movements in defeat as much as in victory demands honesty, clarity, and respect for those who continue to hope.

Silence may be strategic. Ambiguity may be calculated. But history shows that neither sustains loyalty indefinitely.

As Zimbabwe waits, watches, and debates, a single question lingers, unanswered yet unavoidable: can faith alone sustain a movement when facts remain out of reach?