By Investigative Correspondent | ZimEye

MELBOURNE – In a scandal that has cast a long shadow over Australian energy giant Viva Energy, one of its Advanced Process Control Engineers, Tawanda Calvin Mutasa, is at the center of a deeply disturbing family saga that calls into question both his personal integrity and, by association, the ethical standards of his employer.

Mutasa, a Zimbabwean national turned Australian resident, now enjoys a lucrative engineering career at Viva Energy. But behind the polish of his professional title lies a festering controversy: a $200,000 unpaid university loan provided by his now ailing 75-year-old aunt, Beryl Nkwazi—a woman who once rescued him from Zimbabwe’s economic crisis with a heart full of hope and a wallet nearly emptied by sacrifice.

Instead of honouring the verbal agreement to repay her once employed, Mutasa has reportedly dismissed the debt with a callous claim that he already ‘paid’ her back—with a single car ride. His stance has not only ripped apart his family but left his benefactor on the brink of losing her home in Canada.

This is no private quarrel gone quietly into the night. It is a public scandal, backed by court filings, email correspondence, and witness testimony. And yet, Viva Energy—a company that touts values of responsibility and respect—has continued to employ a man accused of heartless deceit, pathological greed, and emotional manipulation.

Viva Energy’s Reputational Risk

As the scandal gains traction, industry observers and ethicists are raising serious concerns: What does it say about a company when it retains an employee accused of leaving an elderly woman destitute after she bankrolled his education abroad? Should a corporation committed to corporate social responsibility stand by someone who, by multiple accounts, abandoned that very principle at home?

This is not simply a private matter between two relatives—it is a glaring ethical question that now reflects on Viva Energy’s corporate culture. What kind of character does the company reward? What message does this send to employees, shareholders, and the broader community?

Mutasa’s public dismissiveness only compounds the reputational damage. In a July 2024 interview with journalist Simba Chikanza, when asked about the debt, he curtly responded, “There is nothing outstanding, so everything has been concluded.” He then hung up the phone.

An Aunt’s Kindness Turned Tragedy

Back in 2006, as Zimbabwe teetered under economic collapse, Beryl Nkwazi, a Canadian immigrant, agreed to fund her nephew’s studies in Canada. She covered tuition, rent, groceries, and daily expenses, under the clear understanding—now backed by emails—that this was a loan, not a gift. Once Mutasa secured work, repayment was expected.

But the repayment never came. And when Nkwazi, now battling severe illness and emotional trauma, took the matter to court, Mutasa and his mother, Grace—herself a former Standard Bank manager—denied the existence of the agreement altogether. Email evidence has since debunked their denials.

“This is not just financial betrayal,” Nkwazi said in a recent statement. “It’s emotional abuse. I sacrificed everything for him—and now, I may lose my home.”

Despite Grace’s courtroom denial, internal family communications confirm the agreement. One relative, Charles Mangurenje, publicly testified: “Tawanda cannot be enriched at my sister’s expense. She is facing homelessness while he flourishes.”

Privilege Built on Pain

What cuts deepest for Beryl is the arrogance with which Mutasa has treated her suffering. During the years she struggled to keep him fed and housed, bank statements revealed that other family members were secretly wiring him additional money—enabling a lifestyle that included luxury dining, trips, and expensive clothing.

His coldest move, relatives say, came when he allegedly told another family member that his chauffeuring his aunt between Saskatoon and Calgary once—a ride needed after her night shift—was equivalent compensation for the $200,000 she spent on him. “A slap in the face,” Beryl calls it.

In his defense, Mutasa has gone so far as to mock his aunt, asking whether she now wants to be “a shareholder in my education.”

Ethics Under Scrutiny

In a global industry increasingly defined by ESG (Environmental, Social, and Governance) metrics, Viva Energy must ask itself: Is this the calibre of individual we promote as the face of our workforce?

Corporate accountability doesn’t end at the office door. While Mutasa profits from a career his aunt paid for, she now faces a humiliating descent into poverty and homelessness. That this happens while he draws a healthy salary in one of Australia’s most respected companies makes the betrayal not just personal—but institutional.

Unless Viva Energy addresses the matter, it risks being seen not merely as indifferent to ethical violations—but complicit in enabling them.

Will Mutasa repay the woman who built the foundation of his success—or will Viva Energy’s silence speak louder than justice ever could?