Faith Nyasuguta
After decades of silence and denial, Zimbabwe will on June 26 begin long-awaited public hearings into the Gukurahundi massacres – one of the darkest chapters in the country’s post-independence history. The hearings, to be led by traditional chiefs, are intended to allow victims and their families to speak out about the atrocities committed during a brutal military operation in the 1980s that left an estimated 20,000 people dead.
The killings, which took place between 1983 and 1987, primarily targeted members of the Ndebele ethnic group in Zimbabwe’s Matabeleland and Midlands regions. The massacres were carried out by the notorious Fifth Brigade, a North Korean-trained army unit under the command of then-Prime Minister Robert Mugabe. The operation was officially described as an effort to root out dissidents, but it is widely acknowledged to have been a campaign of ethnic and political repression.
The upcoming hearings mark the first time that the Zimbabwean government has formally allowed a platform for survivors to publicly recount their experiences. According to authorities, the hearings will take place in selected villages across Matabeleland and will be conducted away from the media to protect the privacy of participants.
President Emmerson Mnangagwa, who came to power in 2017 following a military-led ousting of Mugabe, has portrayed the process as part of a broader national reconciliation effort. His office has empowered the National Council of Chiefs to lead the initiative, which is being framed as a grassroots-driven process. Once completed, the council is expected to compile a report to be submitted to the president, which may include proposals for financial compensation or other forms of restitution.
However, the initiative has already drawn criticism from survivors, activists, and analysts who question its independence and sincerity. Human rights groups point to the fact that many of the political figures overseeing the process served in government during the time of the massacres. Notably, Mnangagwa himself was State Security Minister at the time and has been accused of complicity – an allegation he denies. He has described Gukurahundi as “a bad patch” but insists he played no direct role.
Mbuso Fuzwayo, a long-time Gukurahundi justice campaigner, has dismissed the hearings as “window dressing,” accusing the government of using the process to silence demands for justice rather than to deliver it. “You cannot have a meaningful process without truth-telling, without acknowledging who did what,” he said. “Some of the people in power today were part of the system then.”
Despite such concerns, the hearings represent a rare official effort to confront Zimbabwe’s violent past. For decades, the state suppressed public discourse around Gukurahundi. Victims who spoke out faced intimidation, while independent investigations were blocked or ignored. As a result, entire generations grew up in silence about the trauma endured by their communities.
That silence has had devastating consequences. In villages across Matabeleland, families still grieve for loved ones buried in unmarked graves. Survivors continue to struggle with psychological scars, while many children of the victims remain without birth certificates or access to government services due to documentation lost or denied during the massacres.
The Gukurahundi issue also continues to strain ethnic relations in Zimbabwe. While Mugabe eventually signed a Unity Accord in 1987 with his former political rival Joshua Nkomo – bringing an official end to the violence – the deep mistrust between the Shona and Ndebele communities has never fully healed. Critics argue that until the state offers a formal apology and legal accountability, reconciliation will remain elusive.
International observers and local civil society groups will be closely watching the June 26 hearings to assess whether they mark the beginning of genuine national healing – or merely serve as a political maneuver. Some fear that without legal reforms and greater transparency, the initiative could become another failed attempt to bury Zimbabwe’s history rather than reckon with it.
The National Peace and Reconciliation Commission (NPRC), which was constitutionally mandated in 2013 to deal with past conflicts, has struggled to assert itself due to lack of funding and government interference. Its limited role in the upcoming hearings has raised further questions about the process’s legitimacy.
Still, for many survivors and affected families, the hearings offer a glimmer of hope that their stories – long ignored or silenced – might finally be heard. Whether this moment becomes a genuine turning point in Zimbabwe’s pursuit of justice will depend on what follows the testimonies: acknowledgment, apology and above all, action.
For many survivors and affected families, the hearings offer a glimmer of hope that their stories – long ignored or silenced – might finally be heard. Whether this moment becomes a genuine turning point in Zimbabwe’s pursuit of justice will depend on what follows the testimonies: acknowledgment, apology and above all, action.
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