Minister Moyo Praises “Patriotic” Act As Chivayo Donates Buses To Schools And Highlanders

By Advent Shoko

HARARE – Zimbabwe’s Education Minister, Torerayi Moyo, has praised businessman Wicknell Chivayo for donating three buses, to Dudley Hall Primary, Landa John Nkomo High and Highlanders Football Club. The buses were handed over by Acting President Vice president Kembo Mohadi on the 3rd of February 2026.

But behind the glossy paint and official speeches lies a story that’s far messier than a straightforward act of generosity.

The buses, and the man behind them

Businessman Wicknell Chivayo picked up the tab for the three modern 75-seaters, each worth roughly US$210,000–US$285,000, depending on which report you read. One of them, a luxury Highlanders team bus with Wi-Fi, TVs and a lavatory, has already landed and been welcomed as a boost for the club’s travel woes.

Chivayo didn’t stop there, he also pledged US$300,000 to Highlanders for coach Benjani Mwaruwari’s salary and player needs, tying his gift to a promise made to his late “uncle, the beloved” former Vice-President John Landa Nkomo.

On paper, it reads like the story of a hometown hero, a boy from Dudley Hall Primary who gives back to the schools that shaped him and boosts the dream of a beloved football club. The Education Minister thanked Chivayo for the timing and “vision.” Schools and sport, he added, are key to the nation’s future. He said:

“Safe, reliable transport means more consistent attendance, reduced fatigue for learners and new opportunities.” 

But there’s much more to unpack. Generosity, or political spending with strings?

Chivayo isn’t just a businessman who quietly funds buses. He is one of Zimbabwe’s most controversial wealth figures, a man whose flamboyant generosity is matched by questions about where the money really comes from.

Despite portraying himself as a devout philanthropist, talking about being guided by faith and giving back, Chivayo has racked up headlines for bigger, murkier reasons. In past years, he’s dropped millions on luxury cars, SUVs and even gifts to influential figures, sometimes in political circles, while critics lambast such gestures as influence buying.

Most famously, several major government contracts linked to his company have drawn scrutiny. Analysts and watchdogs have described them as opaque and fraught with inconsistencies, including projects that were paid for but never delivered.

That history casts a long shadow.

A divided reaction

Among school communities and many Highlanders fans, Chivayo’s bus handover was met with gratitude, and young learners boarding a new bus is undeniably a heart-warming sight. “This will make life easier for learners from rural areas,” one parent said after the ceremony.

But not everyone is cheering.

On social media feeds, voices of concern and frustration are growing louder. Some supporters say Chivayo’s deep involvement in the club’s affairs has stirred internal tensions, arguing that money, not footballing independence, has started to drive decisions. They whisper that when Highlanders initially resisted his push to appoint Benjani Mwaruwari as head coach, Chivayo responded with a cold shoulder, signalling that financial support might dry up if his wishes were ignored. For these critics, it felt less like collaboration and more like pressure in plain sight.

At a deeper level, sceptics question whether grand gestures, buses for students, cash for teams, are filling gaps that the state should address, or if they are softening public scrutiny of how money moves between the private sector, politics and community institutions in Zimbabwe. Are these gifts a bridge to progress, or a way to make uncomfortable questions disappear under headlines?

So what’s really going on?

To some, Chivayo is a boy-made-good turned benefactor, fulfilling a dream of giving back to the communities that raised him. To others, he has become a symbol of a wider culture where resources, political visibility and personal influence blur into one spectacle, dressed up as generosity but tangled with power. One thing is clear, catchy headlines about free buses only scratch the surface.

And as Zimbabwe’s politics and economy continue tugging at every corner of society, from dusty classroom yards to packed football terraces, the debate over Chivayo’s brand of giving is only just heating up.