News Editor
There was once a time in Kwekwe when full council meetings were spirited affairs — a vigorous exchange of ideas, sharp policy debate, passionate clashes on service delivery, and, above all, a clear display of elected representatives grasping their mandate and legislative framework. Today, those echoes of vibrant local democracy seem like a fading photograph on a dusty municipal wall.
What we now witness inside the walls of the Kwekwe City Council chamber is a performance of eerie silence, punctuated by the occasional voice rising or chaotic outbursts — not to debate service delivery or challenge a policy decision — but merely to second a motion or rubber-stamp a resolution or push a personal agenda. Lately we have seen councillors using the chambers to settle personal differences totally divorced from what they should be doing. It’s a disappointing, and frankly dangerous, descent into mediocrity by individuals entrusted with the governance of a city in need of transformative leadership.
Kwekwe has 14 elected councillors, the majority of them from the Citizens Coalition for Change (CCC), five from Zanu PF and four who came in via proportional representation. One would imagine that such a political mix would offer a healthy range of perspectives, sparking constructive debate or ideological friction that could serve the residents. Instead, what we often get is silence — an unsettling quiet from most councillors who prefer sipping on drinks and nibbling on biscuits during meetings than engaging in meaningful deliberation. There is a cluster of a few who positively contribute to develop the city, the likes of Ward 10 councillor, Solomon Matsa, Kudakwashe Gwamuri, Thomas Mahapa, Alex Senge Siziwe Ncube, Janet Ticharunga, Alex Senge and the usual vocal Makomboreo Mlambo. Surely Kwekwe Mayor Albert Zinhanga as the chair faces a daunting task overseeing such a platform.
It is now common in Kwekwe for some councillors to go through an entire full council meeting without uttering a single substantive word. They walk in, take their seats and spend the rest of the meeting either leafing through their documents or waiting to raise a hand simply to second a motion. No probing questions, no innovative policy suggestions, no scrutiny of reports, and certainly no reference to the document that should be their guiding star — the Urban Councils Act.
This Act is not a decorative statute to be shelved and dusted during induction workshops. It outlines the powers, functions, and responsibilities of councillors and local authorities. A councillor who does not understand this document has no business occupying a seat at Town House.
But herein lies the tragedy of our current politics. Councillors are not being elected on the strength of their knowledge of local government systems or their passion for public service. Many are parachuted into these seats via political popularity or party loyalty, not merit. The result? A crop of political placeholders who can barely articulate a coherent position on refuse collection, let alone infrastructure development or water reticulation.
It must be said: councillors are not there to be an appendage of the management. Their job is to interrogate, legislate, question, propose, and above all, represent the people who elected them — with integrity and intellectual rigour.
In past councils, residents would pack the public gallery because council meetings were engaging and worth observing. There were councillors who read, who quoted the Urban Councils Act with confidence, and who had bold ideas about local economic development. They knew what their roles were, and they took them seriously.
Today, residents are disengaged. They feel abandoned. And perhaps rightfully so. When councillors reduce themselves to ceremonial figures only interested in allowances and snacks, public trust dies. It’s a tragedy of biscuits, drinks and dead air!
Let’s be honest: this isn’t just about Kwekwe. The decay of quality local leadership is a national crisis. From Mutare to Gwanda, from Karoi to Chitungwiza, the calibre of individuals elected to urban councils is steadily declining. And the electorate bears part of the blame.
We have allowed political parties to handpick candidates with no track record of community service, no familiarity with urban governance, and no capacity to hold the bureaucracy accountable. Loyalty to party slogans is rewarded over loyalty to the people.
In Kwekwe’s case, it’s shocking that out of 18 councillors, only a few consistently speak intelligibly, question reports, or attempt to steer debate in council. The rest are a troubling display of what happens when political appointments replace democratic accountability.
With shallow debates dominating council meetings — if any debate happens at all — it is no wonder Kwekwe continues to reel from poor service delivery. Roads remain potholed, refuse sometimes goes uncollected for weeks, burst water pipes leak for days, and revenue collection systems remain archaic.
This failure to engage also raises red flags about transparency and potential corruption. When no one is asking questions, anything can pass unnoticed — from inflated tenders to ghost projects. Accountability dies not with a bang, but with a whisper — or in this case, with complicit silence.
As we approach the midterm of this council, it is time for residents to demand more. Ratepayers have every right to call out their councillors. Every ward meeting should begin with the question: Councillor, what have you said in council on our behalf?
The media too must rise to the occasion. Enough of covering resolutions without analysing the depth (or lack thereof) of debates that led to them. It’s time to name and profile councillors based on their participation, not just their titles.
The Urban Councils Act gives councillors powers to act as watchdogs, budget approvers, and policy overseers. Let them use it — or let them step aside for those who will.
Kwekwe’s problems are not insurmountable. But they require leadership that is curious, informed, and committed. Leadership that does not shrink into silence when difficult issues arise. Leadership that understands that being elected is not a reward, but a responsibility.
The silence in our council chambers is not golden — it is dangerous. It is time for councillors to either speak up or pack up.
Kwekwe Councillors: Elected to care, too quiet to care
News Editor
There was once a time in Kwekwe when full council meetings were spirited affairs — a vigorous exchange of ideas, sharp policy debate, passionate clashes on service delivery, and, above all, a clear display of elected representatives grasping their mandate and legislative framework. Today, those echoes of vibrant local democracy seem like a fading photograph on a dusty municipal wall.
What we now witness inside the walls of the Kwekwe City Council chamber is a performance of eerie silence, punctuated by the occasional voice rising or chaotic outbursts — not to debate service delivery or challenge a policy decision — but merely to second a motion or rubber-stamp a resolution or push a personal agenda. Lately we have seen councillors using the chambers to settle personal differences totally divorced from what they should be doing. It’s a disappointing, and frankly dangerous, descent into mediocrity by individuals entrusted with the governance of a city in need of transformative leadership.
Kwekwe has 14 elected councillors, the majority of them from the Citizens Coalition for Change (CCC), five from Zanu PF and four who came in via proportional representation. One would imagine that such a political mix would offer a healthy range of perspectives, sparking constructive debate or ideological friction that could serve the residents. Instead, what we often get is silence — an unsettling quiet from most councillors who prefer sipping on drinks and nibbling on biscuits during meetings than engaging in meaningful deliberation. There is a cluster of a few who positively contribute to develop the city, the likes of Ward 10 councillor, Solomon Matsa, Kudakwashe Gwamuri, Thomas Mahapa, Alex Senge Siziwe Ncube, Janet Ticharunga, Alex Senge and the usual vocal Makomboreo Mlambo. Surely Kwekwe Mayor Albert Zinhanga as the chair faces a daunting task overseeing such a platform.
It is now common in Kwekwe for some councillors to go through an entire full council meeting without uttering a single substantive word. They walk in, take their seats and spend the rest of the meeting either leafing through their documents or waiting to raise a hand simply to second a motion. No probing questions, no innovative policy suggestions, no scrutiny of reports, and certainly no reference to the document that should be their guiding star — the Urban Councils Act.
This Act is not a decorative statute to be shelved and dusted during induction workshops. It outlines the powers, functions, and responsibilities of councillors and local authorities. A councillor who does not understand this document has no business occupying a seat at Town House.
But herein lies the tragedy of our current politics. Councillors are not being elected on the strength of their knowledge of local government systems or their passion for public service. Many are parachuted into these seats via political popularity or party loyalty, not merit. The result? A crop of political placeholders who can barely articulate a coherent position on refuse collection, let alone infrastructure development or water reticulation.
It must be said: councillors are not there to be an appendage of the management. Their job is to interrogate, legislate, question, propose, and above all, represent the people who elected them — with integrity and intellectual rigour.
In past councils, residents would pack the public gallery because council meetings were engaging and worth observing. There were councillors who read, who quoted the Urban Councils Act with confidence, and who had bold ideas about local economic development. They knew what their roles were, and they took them seriously.
Today, residents are disengaged. They feel abandoned. And perhaps rightfully so. When councillors reduce themselves to ceremonial figures only interested in allowances and snacks, public trust dies. It’s a tragedy of biscuits, drinks and dead air!
Let’s be honest: this isn’t just about Kwekwe. The decay of quality local leadership is a national crisis. From Mutare to Gwanda, from Karoi to Chitungwiza, the calibre of individuals elected to urban councils is steadily declining. And the electorate bears part of the blame.
We have allowed political parties to handpick candidates with no track record of community service, no familiarity with urban governance, and no capacity to hold the bureaucracy accountable. Loyalty to party slogans is rewarded over loyalty to the people.
In Kwekwe’s case, it’s shocking that out of 18 councillors, only a few consistently speak intelligibly, question reports, or attempt to steer debate in council. The rest are a troubling display of what happens when political appointments replace democratic accountability.
With shallow debates dominating council meetings — if any debate happens at all — it is no wonder Kwekwe continues to reel from poor service delivery. Roads remain potholed, refuse sometimes goes uncollected for weeks, burst water pipes leak for days, and revenue collection systems remain archaic.
This failure to engage also raises red flags about transparency and potential corruption. When no one is asking questions, anything can pass unnoticed — from inflated tenders to ghost projects. Accountability dies not with a bang, but with a whisper — or in this case, with complicit silence.
As we approach the midterm of this council, it is time for residents to demand more. Ratepayers have every right to call out their councillors. Every ward meeting should begin with the question: Councillor, what have you said in council on our behalf?
The media too must rise to the occasion. Enough of covering resolutions without analysing the depth (or lack thereof) of debates that led to them. It’s time to name and profile councillors based on their participation, not just their titles.
The Urban Councils Act gives councillors powers to act as watchdogs, budget approvers, and policy overseers. Let them use it — or let them step aside for those who will.
Kwekwe’s problems are not insurmountable. But they require leadership that is curious, informed, and committed. Leadership that does not shrink into silence when difficult issues arise. Leadership that understands that being elected is not a reward, but a responsibility.
The silence in our council chambers is not golden — it is dangerous. It is time for councillors to either speak up or pack up.
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