By Investigations Reporter | Featured ZimEye | In March, an intriguing WhatsApp group came into existence, orchestrated by the enigmatic Passion Java. Marketed as a benevolent initiative aimed at elevating living standards, the group quickly drew the interest of many women, who believed it to be a church-sponsored program. The promise was straightforward: pay a modest dollar to join a community poised to receive residential plots, a golden opportunity that resonated with many.
The enthusiasm was palpable among the members, each one harboring dreams of securing a plot for themselves. However, the initial optimism soon gave way to confusion and disillusionment. The narrative abruptly shifted when the group administrators, linked to Passion Java, announced that a hefty sum of $500 was required to secure a stand. This unexpected demand shook the members, most of whom were already grappling with economic hardships. The shock was profound for women like Mary, a widow and mother of three, who had managed to scrape together just the initial dollar.
As discussions within the group grew heated, another announcement surfaced, urging members to attend a large gathering at Passion Java’s stadium. This event, they were told, was crucial for those interested in the residential plots. Despite her reservations and the financial strain, Mary felt a flicker of hope—perhaps this function would clarify things.
Yet fate intervened, and Mary, like several others, found herself unable to attend. The aftermath of the event was chaotic. Through the flurry of messages that bombarded the group chat, tales of disappointment emerged. Those who managed to attend returned with stories not of triumph, but of disillusionment. The promised food was nowhere to be seen, and instead of support and solidarity, there were reports of accidents and mismanagement.
Among the voices of discontent, one resonated with a fierce determination—Alice, a respected elder in the community, declared her intent to reach out to Amai Auxillia Mnangagwa, hoping for intervention. The group, initially a beacon of hope, had become a collective echo of frustration.
As the days passed, the true motive behind the WhatsApp group became painfully apparent. It wasn’t about empowering women or providing residential plots; it was a ploy to boost attendance at the Night Of Wonders stadium event. Passion Java had organized free bus transportation, luring members with the promise of food and support, only to leave many feeling used and exploited.
This revelation was a bitter pill, especially for the elderly women who had traveled great distances, fueled by the promise of a new beginning. They had put their trust in a vision that turned out to be a mirage.
Now, as they grappled with their dashed hopes, the women of the group united in their resolve to seek answers and justice. They hadn’t just lost money—they had been stripped of their faith in promises too good to be true. The community they sought was never about plots of land; it was about standing together against exploitation. They demanded accountability, not just for the lost $500 but for the betrayal of trust, a commodity far more valuable than any plot of land.
“These church programs are now exessive. Widows are struggling. Kids want to go to school, and there is no food. In the midst of all this, they use us like this,” one of the women tells ZimEye.
They continue saying, ” another problem is that the data cost is so high, so it is difficult to access news information like others do so that we make the right decisions. It is not right to use us like this just so we attend their church services.”
When asked about allegations from a WhatsApp group named “Home Seekers,” where women claimed they paid for residential stands and food at the National Sports Stadium, Passion Java was initially evasive, asking, “Wait, did you say that there are women who were made to pay $1?” before abruptly leaving the interview. He returned to question, “So, are you saying I paid them? Are you suggesting that I collected $1 from each of 245 women and promised them property at the stadium?”
Java seemed perplexed about the logistics, commenting, “When I travel with my convoy, there are eight people. How could I possibly manage 245 women, charge them, and then promise them property? How much do you think I would’ve paid my security to manage this for just $245? Does it make sense that I’d fly first class from America to Zimbabwe just to collect $245?”
When the conversation shifted to his colleague Wicknell Chivayo, who is known for traveling first class and facing accusations regarding public funds, Java distanced himself, stating, “The person I know is now very prayerful. All this you’re saying sounds like drama.”
Challenged on the broader issues of corruption linked to public money and unfulfilled contracts by his colleague, Java remained silent. He expressed offense at the suggestion that he would engage in such small-scale deceit, stating, “It’s insulting to suggest I’d steal $245. No one gets deceived or duped for $1 as you claim.”
Confronted with more evidence from the WhatsApp group, Java denied recognizing the women or orchestrating their travel to the stadium. However, the leader of the group that coordinated 26 buses claimed that Java directly organized the event promising residential stands.
She apologized for the lack of food at the stadium but assured that the promised stands would be provided, with the program starting Tuesday. She claimed that title deeds would be issued only after house construction, not before.