Zimfest UK and the Politics of Distraction: When a Nation Majors on the Minor

 

Zimfest UK and the Politics of Distraction: When a Nation Majors on the Minor

By Sipho N Banana

As Zimbabweans lit up social media this past weekend, you’d be forgiven for thinking something monumental had happened on the political front but perhaps a major corruption scandal exposed, a citizens’ victory in court, or a mass mobilization of the diaspora demanding change back home. But no. The firestorm was over outfits, artists, social snubs, and champagne tables at Zimfest UK 2025.

Once again, we witnessed what has become a troubling national pattern, the Zimbabwean tendency to major on minor issues.

It’s not that culture doesn’t matter. Music, fashion, celebration are vital expressions of identity and community. But when these take centre stage at the expense of deeper reflection on Zimbabwe’s ongoing collapse and when they become the only things we argue about it reveals something tragic. A people emotionally exhausted, politically repressed, and subconsciously distracting themselves from the pain of a broken nation.

Zimfest as a Mirror

Zimfest, in its ideal form, should be a space where the diaspora reconnects, networks, and shares not only joy but purpose. Instead, it has increasingly become a stage where classism, celebrity culture, and shallow rivalries take the spotlight and while real issues are ignored.

Few conversations trended about Zimbabwe’s:

91% youth unemployment,

Broken healthcare systems,

2023 rigged elections and a captured judiciary,

Civil servants earning starvation wages,

Ongoing abductions and silencing of dissent.

The irony? Many at Zimfest are directly impacted. They live abroad not just for opportunity, but because Zimbabwe pushed them out through bad governance, economic mismanagement, and state brutality. Yet faced with this reality, some in the diaspora have chosen to escape into performance, clout, and consumerism and safely far from the tear gas, but also far from the truth.

Why We Major on Minor Things

This isn’t unique to Zimfest. It’s a reflection of the broader Zimbabwean condition.

Survival mode has consumed our people for so long that long-term thinking and civic awareness have eroded.

The education system, hijacked by propaganda and patronage, has discouraged critical thinking and produced a generation more fluent in slogans than strategy.

Fear of repression at home and in the diaspora means people avoid hard conversations.

And now, with social media amplifying outrage over substance, many opt for viral distraction over civic engagement.

This isn’t a moral failure of individuals. It is a systemic failure of a nation betrayed. We’ve been taught to laugh so we don’t cry. To fight each other over nothing, rather than fight power over everything.

A Challenge to the Diaspora

The Zimbabwean diaspora is one of the most educated, talented, and resourceful communities in the world. But our impact is blunted when we fall into the same cycle of majoring on the minor.

What if Zimfest became more than just a party?

What if, alongside the music and dance, it created spaces for dialogue?

What if it hosted panels on youth unemployment, corruption, women's rights, land reform, or media freedom?

What if it raised funds not just for event production but for civil society, legal aid, education, or independent journalism?

What if we dressed well and thought deeper?

Conclusion: From Vibes to Vision

Zimfest UK could be a model for a conscious diaspora. One that celebrates our culture while confronting our crisis. One that uses joy not to escape but to energize.

Zimbabwe needs more than DJs and designers. It needs dreamers and doers. And until we, as Zimbabweans, stop majoring on the minor, we risk becoming entertainers at our own funeral.

We can do better. We must.

A Legacy of Sacrifice: Detention at Wha Wha Prison

 

Late former Zimbabwe President Canaan Sodindo Banana.

My late father, Canaan Banana, Zimbabwe’s first President at Independence, was more than just a ceremonial head of state. Before independence, he was detained at Wha Wha Prison (Prison Number 188/78), where he sat alongside many of the country’s most prominent nationalist leaders which is a profound testament to his courage and resilience.

Sharing the Cell with Liberation Icons

Despite its reputation as a camp for colonial repression, Wha Wha Prison became a crucible for the liberation struggle housing many of Zimbabwe’s most revered freedom fighters:

• Robert Gabriel Mugabe, later Zimbabwe’s first post-independence executive President, was detained under prison number 176/64 at Wha Wha before being transferred elsewhere.

• Dr Joshua Mqabuko Nkomo, founder of ZAPU and the revered “Father Zimbabwe,” spent time at Wha Wha before being moved to Gonakudzingwa.

• Leopold Takawira, ZAPU’s External Secretary and later ZANU Vice-President, was detained and tortured in Wha Wha and other camps; he later died from injuries sustained in detention.

• Josiah Mushore Chinamano and his wife Ruth Chinamano, both prominent ZAPU leaders, were imprisoned at Wha Wha until 1970 before suffering travel restrictions upon release.

• Jane Lungile Ngwenya, a stalwart of the struggle and later ZAPU women’s leader, was detained at Wha Wha from 1964 to 1970 and became part of an internal detainee governance system focused on education and political strategy.

• Others who shared this crucible included Enos Nkala, Sydney Malunga, Fletcher Dulini Ncube, Mark Nziramasanga, Robert Mubayiwa Marere, Rido Mpofu, Chenjerai Hunzvi, and Naison Khutshwekhaya Ndlovu and all detainees whose stories of defiance varied but who shared the same spirit of resistance.

Why This Matters

When detractors describe my father’s role as purely ceremonial, they ignore the reality of sacrifice, strategic thought, and sacrifice behind those cell bars. Being labeled “ceremonial” cannot obscure the fact that he and the men and women detained with him risked their freedom, families, and lives for Zimbabwe’s liberation.

The struggle wasn’t just fought in the bush; it was fought in places like Wha Wha where political prisoners transformed detention into a political university. There, they educated one another, developed governance frameworks, and preserved unity across party lines even in the most adverse conditions.

The Courage Behind the History

My father shared space with leaders who went on to shape the nation, not as ceremonial heads, but as visionary actors of change. Many of them paid a high personal price. Yet today, more than 40 years after independence, some of those same systems and laws he opposed are still being wielded to oppress citizens.

That history is not something to romanticize uncritically, but neither should it be dismissed. It’s upon that legacy of real sacrifice and conviction that we assess our present, and chart a better future.

Conclusively

That said, we can no longer afford to romanticize the past. 

Over 40 years after independence, many of the struggles we now face are not the remnants of colonialism, but the result of poor leadership from some of the very liberators who once promised us freedom. The painful truth is they have become the gatekeepers of the same oppressive systems they fought against.

And after all this time, it’s now clear we cannot expect ZANU PF to reform. The party has mutated into a system of governance that closely resembles an organized criminal enterprise and one that maintains power through fear, repression, and manipulation. It uses inherited colonial laws not to liberate, but to silence and punish its own people.

As his son, I wish I could follow in my father’s political footsteps with pride. However I can’t do so blindly, because this is no longer the party that gave birth to Zimbabwe. What exists today is a far cry from the vision of inclusive liberation.

For me real patriotism today means choosing truth over nostalgia, and justice over loyalty to broken systems. Such unkind truths often come with reprisals.However despite the risks, I still hold onto hope that freedom of speech has a place in our beloved Zimbabwe regardless of the harsh socioeconomic and political conditions we face.

Without space for truth, there can be no healing. Without dialogue, no real progress.