Let me say that again, with all the weight it carries. I am from Zimbabwe , a land blessed beyond imagination. Gold beneath our feet, platinum in our hills, diamonds in our rivers, the richest soil, the most educated people. God gave us everything.
And yet, when I look at Rwanda, I feel ashamed.
Not because Rwanda has more. Rwanda has far less.
I feel ashamed because Rwanda has done more with nothing, than we have done with everything.
In my country, Zimbabwe, looting has become a trophy.
We no longer hide theft. We celebrate it. Corruption is not whispered in dark corridors — it is displayed on Instagram, driven on our roads in convoys of luxury cars, built into mansions on stolen land. The looter is now the hero. The thief is now the role model.
In my country, political proximity to power has become a licence to amass wealth.
You do not need to innovate. You do not need to work. You do not need to build. You only need to be close. Close to power, close to the party, close to the right family. If you are close, the tenders are yours. The mines are yours. The land is yours. The US dollars are yours. And if you are not close, you can watch your country crumble while you queue for everything, for fuel, for cash, for hope.
That is the painful truth of my beloved Zimbabwe.
Then I look across the continent, to Rwanda.
A small country. Landlocked. No vast mineral wealth. A country that in 1994, during the Genocide against the Tutsi, lost everything. The world remained silent. The world left you to die.
You had every excuse to fail. Every excuse to loot. Every excuse to say, "We are traumatized, we cannot build."
But you did the opposite.
You stopped the Genocide. You chose unity over revenge.
You made Kigali safe, clean, and beautiful, not because you are rich, but because you are disciplined.
You built the Kigali Convention Centre. They said that was your limit.
You built Kigali Arena. They said that was as far as you could go.
You transformed Amahoro Stadium. They said other countries have bigger stadiums.
You brought the UCI Cycling World Championships to Africa, the first time in history. They said, "It’s just cycling."
Now you have brought Formula One to Rwanda. And suddenly, the whole world that once ignored you is now paying attention. The whole world wants to come to Kigali.
Do you see the pattern, my fellow Zimbabweans? Rwanda kept rising while the world kept doubting. We keep sinking while the world keeps pitying us.
Rwanda teaches me this profound lesson:
A nation is not built by what is UNDER the ground. A nation is built by what is INSIDE the hearts of its people and its leaders.
Rwanda has no diamonds to loot, so they learned to build. We have diamonds to loot, so we never learned to build.
Rwanda has leaders who see power as a burden to carry the nation. We have people in power who see power as a licence to carry away the nation.
Thank you, President Paul Kagame, for reminding Africa that it is possible. Thank you, people of Rwanda, for your discipline, your cleanliness, your vision. You have turned a genocide into greatness.
I write this as a proud Zimbabwean who loves his country deeply , and that is why it hurts so much.
I wish, with all my heart, that my country Zimbabwe, with all its wealth, could borrow just one leaf from Rwanda:
That leadership is not about how much you can amass for yourself, but how much you can build for others.
Until that day comes, I will keep looking at Rwanda, not with jealousy, but with longing. Longing for what Harare could be, if only we chose to be like Kigali.
Much respect from Zimbabwe.
And yet, when I look at Rwanda, I feel ashamed.
Not because Rwanda has more. Rwanda has far less.
I feel ashamed because Rwanda has done more with nothing, than we have done with everything.
In my country, Zimbabwe, looting has become a trophy.
We no longer hide theft. We celebrate it. Corruption is not whispered in dark corridors — it is displayed on Instagram, driven on our roads in convoys of luxury cars, built into mansions on stolen land. The looter is now the hero. The thief is now the role model.
In my country, political proximity to power has become a licence to amass wealth.
You do not need to innovate. You do not need to work. You do not need to build. You only need to be close. Close to power, close to the party, close to the right family. If you are close, the tenders are yours. The mines are yours. The land is yours. The US dollars are yours. And if you are not close, you can watch your country crumble while you queue for everything, for fuel, for cash, for hope.
That is the painful truth of my beloved Zimbabwe.
Then I look across the continent, to Rwanda.
A small country. Landlocked. No vast mineral wealth. A country that in 1994, during the Genocide against the Tutsi, lost everything. The world remained silent. The world left you to die.
You had every excuse to fail. Every excuse to loot. Every excuse to say, "We are traumatized, we cannot build."
But you did the opposite.
You stopped the Genocide. You chose unity over revenge.
You made Kigali safe, clean, and beautiful, not because you are rich, but because you are disciplined.
You built the Kigali Convention Centre. They said that was your limit.
You built Kigali Arena. They said that was as far as you could go.
You transformed Amahoro Stadium. They said other countries have bigger stadiums.
You brought the UCI Cycling World Championships to Africa, the first time in history. They said, "It’s just cycling."
Now you have brought Formula One to Rwanda. And suddenly, the whole world that once ignored you is now paying attention. The whole world wants to come to Kigali.
Do you see the pattern, my fellow Zimbabweans? Rwanda kept rising while the world kept doubting. We keep sinking while the world keeps pitying us.
Rwanda teaches me this profound lesson:
A nation is not built by what is UNDER the ground. A nation is built by what is INSIDE the hearts of its people and its leaders.
Rwanda has no diamonds to loot, so they learned to build. We have diamonds to loot, so we never learned to build.
Rwanda has leaders who see power as a burden to carry the nation. We have people in power who see power as a licence to carry away the nation.
Thank you, President Paul Kagame, for reminding Africa that it is possible. Thank you, people of Rwanda, for your discipline, your cleanliness, your vision. You have turned a genocide into greatness.
I write this as a proud Zimbabwean who loves his country deeply , and that is why it hurts so much.
I wish, with all my heart, that my country Zimbabwe, with all its wealth, could borrow just one leaf from Rwanda:
That leadership is not about how much you can amass for yourself, but how much you can build for others.
Until that day comes, I will keep looking at Rwanda, not with jealousy, but with longing. Longing for what Harare could be, if only we chose to be like Kigali.
Much respect from Zimbabwe.