Pauline Chateuka
Harare—The Minister of State for Provincial Affairs and Devolution for Mashonaland East, Advocate Itayi Ndudzo, has warned of a crackdown on land barons illegally selling rural land in Seke, as authorities move to contain a fast-escalating crisis.
Seke has become a battleground where land barons, often working with rogue village heads are carving up communal land and selling it off for profit.
What was once shared space is being rapidly converted into residential stands, eroding both livelihoods and social cohesion.
Wetlands that sustain gardens during dry months are being parcelled out. Grazing lands—once the “bank accounts” of rural households—are being pegged for housing. Sacred forests and family fields that have supported generations are being replaced by modern housing units.
An investigation conducted in partnership with the Information for Development Trust (IDT) exposed the scale of the problem, showing how the rush for quick cash is dismantling natural climate buffers, swallowing grazing land and destroying wetlands.
Ndudzo said government would only recognise land acquired through legal channels, dismissing all other transactions as invalid.
He warned that both buyers and sellers are committing serious offences.
“The position of the government is that members of the public should only acquire land from bona fide land authorities. Those who are engaging in the illegal sale and purchase of rural land are both committing crimes and measures are being taken by our law enforcement agencies,” said Ndudzo.
Law enforcement agencies, he added, have already been mobilised.
But on the ground, the crisis is no longer just about land as it is turning violent.
Communities are clashing over the sale of land once reserved for communal gardens, locally known as minda yemuriwo. For generations, these gardens have functioned as a social safety net, supplying vegetables during lean periods and anchoring community survival.
Violence recently erupted near Dema after a portion of such land was allegedly sold off. Witnesses said a group of residents, reportedly backed by a village head, pegged stands and began selling them to home-seekers from Harare.
The land was far from idle. It was a vital water source during the dry season—a green belt sustained by an underground spring (chisipiti).
“We warned them. We told the headman that this land is our insurance,” said an elderly woman. “When the rains fail, this is where we grow our greens. This is where we get water for our goats. They said we were standing in the way of development.”
Tensions boiled over when original inhabitants tried to block surveyors and prospective buyers.
“It was no longer an argument; it was an attack,” said a young man who tried to defend his grandmother. “They said we are ‘jealous’ and ‘backward.’ They called us enemies of progress because we want to keep a garden instead of building houses.”
The violence reflects a deeper breakdown in communal systems documented in last month’s investigation. The lure of up to US$4,000 per acre has distorted traditional land governance, with some village heads shifting from custodians to active sellers.
Customary practices such as mbudzi yaSabhuku have been commercialised into transaction fees, fuelling a cash-driven scramble for land. The result is a fractured community: newcomers, having paid fees and informal charges, claim legitimacy, while long-time residents see them as invaders.
Chief Seke, who recently warned village heads against illegal sales, now faces the challenge of restoring order in a community turning against itself. He was not immediately available for comment.
“The land is not just soil. It is the bond that holds us together. When you sell it without thought, you sell our unity. Now brothers are fighting brothers, and for what? For money that will be gone tomorrow, while the land will be gone forever,” said Eneridge Madovi.
Despite high-level meetings involving the minister, police and the Environmental Management Agency (EMA), illegal sales continue largely unchecked. On the ground, enforcement appears weak, with those holding cash and influence driving the process.
Climate specialist Jeremiah Mushosho said the conflict is rooted in environmental collapse.
“When you destroy the ecological buffer the wetland, the grazing area you also destroy the economic buffer. When people can no longer feed their families from the garden or the fields, they become desperate. And desperate people are easily turned against each other by those who promise a quick solution, even if that solution means selling the very ground their neighbour stands on.”
What is emerging is neither a rural nor urban landscape, but a hybrid defined by overcrowding, shrinking resources and rising tensions. Gardens are giving way to rooftops, while wetlands are being sealed off—making future droughts even more severe.
If communities are already fighting over garden land, the question is what happens when water sources disappear entirely.
A local legislator said the issue should be escalated to Parliament.
“It is a crisis, but the MP responsible for the area should be able to speak about it and have the issue discussed by the legislature. But this can only happen if the local leadership treat the matter with the seriousness that it deserves.”
Government messaging, however, remains inconsistent. While the Minister of Local Government and Public Works, Daniel Garwe, has condemned land barons and promised action, enforcement on the ground tells a different story.
Land barons continue operating openly, often ignoring official warnings. Manyame Rural District Council has issued prohibition orders, but these have done little to stop ongoing land pegging.
Efforts to get a comment from the council were unsuccessful, as its Chief Executive Officer, Farirai Guta, did not answer calls or respond to messages.
Meanwhile, frustration among residents is growing. Faced with losing their land, livelihoods and environmental protections, many feel cornered—left to either surrender their inheritance or fight to defend it.