In Zimbabwe, rivers have always carried more than water. Today, they carry the weight of a familiar story, that of power, patronage and profit now converging beneath the language of “river rehabilitation.”
At the centre of the latest controversy is Paul Tungwarara, chairman of Prevail Group International. Tungwarara, also a Presidential Advisor, has been granted exclusive control over a sweeping initiative dubbed the Presidential River Rehabilitation Programme, a national project ostensibly designed to tackle siltation and environmental degradation caused by years of artisanal and industrial mining.
On paper, the programme reads like an overdue environmental repair. Zimbabwe’s rivers, particularly in Mashonaland Central, have been heavily degraded by gold mining, much of it informal, some of it linked to foreign operators. Silted and chemically polluted rivers have disrupted water systems, agriculture and ecosystems. Rehabilitation, therefore, is not just necessary, it is urgent.
But in practice, the project has ignited a fierce backlash.
In Mazowe, where pilot activities began, landowners and communities accuse Tungwarara’s operation of morphing into something else entirely, a gold extraction enterprise cloaked in environmental rhetoric. Reports of heavy machinery entering riverbeds, displacing local actors and extracting mineral-rich sediments have fueled suspicion that “rehabilitation” is merely a rebranding of riverbed mining.
The controversy deepens with the way the contract was awarded. Prevail Group International was granted sole rights to the programme, bypassing competitive tender processes. Critics argue that this has effectively created a state-sanctioned monopoly over riverbed resources, a lucrative front in a country where gold remains a key economic lifeline.
Tungwarara has publicly claimed that he is not being paid for the project, framing it as a form of national service. Yet such assertions ring hollow in the face of mounting evidence that the true value lies not in government payments, but in access: access to gold-rich river sediments under exclusive control.
What emerges is a troubling pattern, consolidation of extractive opportunities under politically connected actors, justified through the language of environmental restoration. It is a paradox Zimbabwe knows well, where policy frameworks meant to correct past excesses instead create new avenues for accumulation.
For communities in Mazowe and Mutare, the stakes are immediate. River systems are not abstract assets; they are sources of water, livelihoods and ecological balance. When control over them is centralised and commercialised without transparency or accountability, the consequences ripple far beyond the riverbanks.
Zimbabwe’s rivers may yet be rehabilitated. But without scrutiny, they risk becoming the latest channel through which wealth flows upward and away.