By Engineer Jacob Kudzayi Mutisi-I am a black Zimbabwean, born and bred in this land of striking beauty. But in my lived experience, I have observed something that continues to trouble me. Among my circle of friends, it is often my white Zimbabwean companions who display more visible and vocal patriotism than many of my black peers and relatives. It is an uncomfortable truth—but one that deserves honest reflection.
Many of my black relatives and friends, regardless of their age or status, seem to be waiting for the next visa, the next scholarship, or the next job offer abroad. Conversations over lunch or at family gatherings frequently circle back to “getting out.” The phrase ndirikuda kuenda kuUK (“I want to go to the UK”) has become as common as greetings. For many, the dream is not to contribute to the rebuilding of Zimbabwe, but to escape it.
Contrast this with my white Zimbabwean friends—most of whom are descendants of settlers who arrived generations ago—who, despite our complex history, now know no other home. They own farms, run businesses, sponsor local sports teams, and continue to invest in their communities. They stay through currency crashes, droughts, land invasions, and daily power cuts. Some of them—who could leave—choose not to. Not because they are blind to the country’s problems, but because they believe Zimbabwe is worth fighting for.
This irony stings. Historically, the black population fought and won independence to reclaim the land, dignity, and identity of Zimbabwe. One would expect that this hard-won freedom would inspire a deeper sense of ownership and loyalty to our homeland. But today, the children and grandchildren of the liberators are among the most disillusioned—eager to trade the dust of Zimbabwe for the asphalt of London, New York, or Perth.
We cannot ignore the reasons behind this. Decades of economic instability, corruption, poor governance, and a politicised education system have drained hope from an entire generation. For many black Zimbabweans, patriotism feels like a luxury they cannot afford when schools are underfunded, hospitals under-equipped, and job prospects grim. By contrast, many white Zimbabweans—having historically benefited from economic advantages—may find it easier to be patriotic. They often have the means to ride out the storms.
Still, patriotism should not be defined by who suffers least or who stays longest. It should be measured by who contributes meaningfully. Patriotism is not about blind loyalty to a government, but an unwavering belief in the potential of our people and land.
As a black Zimbabwean, I do not want patriotism to be something I outsource to others. I want to see more black Zimbabweans reclaiming a sense of national pride—not through slogans, but through action. Our country needs us. If we all run away, who will fix what is broken?
Perhaps the greatest act of patriotism is not staying when it is easy, but committing to return and rebuild—especially when it’s hard.
We can ride this difficult wave together.
-Engineer Jacob Kudzayi Mutisi