The death of Solomon Mujuru leaves the moderate voices in Zanu-PF, already in retreat from the party’s more radical elements, without a powerful figure around which to rally. Mujuru (62) died on Tuesday in a fire at his farm in Beatrice, 60 kilometres south of Harare.
The grief over his death is shared by his Zanu-PF loyalists and opposition leader Morgan Tsvangirai’s supporters — evidence of his image as an alternative centre of power to President Robert Mugabe’s increasingly hard-line circle.
On the morning of August 16 hundreds of his senior supporters wept openly as the charred remains of the man they revered were removed from his burnt farmhouse.
Inside a corridor and close to the exit a small pile of charred bones and ash lay under a leopard-print blanket. So badly burned was his body that workers used shovels to scrape his remains off the floor.
The night before, he had shared beers with locals at the Beatrice Motel, a cheap roadside bar 10 kilometres from his home. The bar is an unlikely favourite joint of a man who cavorted with billionaire Saudi diamond sheiks and who put Mugabe, now one of the world’s longest-serving rulers, in power.
But this was part of the mystery of Mujuru — shy and stammering, but wielding so much power that his death has raised questions about the future of Zanu-PF.
State Security Minister Sydney Sekeramayi, a Mujuru ally who has been touted as a possible Mugabe successor, sobbed as he described the shock of discovering Mujuru’s charred remains.
General Constantine Chiwenga, head of the defence force, said it was “hard to comprehend that such a fighter would go in such a way”.
Rex Nhongo
Although Mujuru was widely viewed as a Mugabe rival, the two shared a bond forged more than 30 years ago when Mujuru helped the young leader gain control of a faction-ridden movement.
Mujuru, then known as Rex Nhongo, was deputy head of the Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army when Mugabe arrived in the camps in Mozambique in 1975 after his release from 10 years’ imprisonment.
The combatants were suspicious of Mugabe, who had never been in the trenches, never carried a gun and was largely unknown to them. They had been loyal to such leaders as Herbert Chitepo, who was assassinated in 1974. “When we arrived in the camps, it was clear that some of the senior commanders did not want us there,” Mugabe recounted on Monday at a military barracks where Mujuru’s remains were taken. It was Mujuru who persuaded his fighters to accept Mugabe as their leader, crushing an internal rebellion against him and purging the ranks of dissenters.
After independence Mujuru became the first black army general and was responsible for integrating three different armies. Winning the loyalty of all the men took hard political tactics. A fanatical sports fan, he even used his power on the football field.
Gift Makoni, a former player for the Black Rhinos army football team, once recalled how Mujuru would end matches when decisions were going against his boys. “If he felt the referee was being unfair he’d stand up and tell him that the game was over,” Makoni said. This way, Mujuru’s team would not lose — and his players loved him for it.
It was while he was integrating the army that Mujuru befriended Dumiso Dabengwa, who had been a senior security figure in the rival Zimbabwe People’s Revolutionary Army.
Dabengwa, who left his seat in the Zanu-PF politburo to oppose Mugabe, said this week there would now be no voice in Zanu-PF to stand up to Mugabe. “I don’t know of anyone else who is capable of doing that. I don’t see any other character or person in Zanu-PF that can take over from him,” Dabengwa said.
But Ibbo Mandaza, a long-time close associate of Mujuru, said the media had “got it wrong” about the depth of the differences between Mujuru and the perceived leader of Zanu-PF’s radical faction, Emmerson Mnangagwa.
Factional conflict
The alleged factional conflict between them was “more imagined than real”, Mandaza said, because Mujuru had, in fact, been “an important anchor in ensuring that things don’t fall apart” during the infighting.
Mujuru’s reputation as “kingmaker” became evident when his wife, Joice, was elected vice-president in 2004 despite her having won fewer votes than Mnangagwa, her rival, in a party primary election.
Joice’s faction convinced Mugabe that the provincial chairs who had voted against her were, in fact, plotting to topple Mugabe himself. The president quickly fired the dissenters.
With her husband’s political base and strategic nous now gone, it is likely that Joice will be left much weaker and may struggle to control even her own faction.
Mugabe had learned that to keep his rivals away from the throne, he had to play them off against one another. He backed Joice in 2004, even raising her faction’s hopes by encouraging her to “aim higher”. But he was soon pulling Mnangagwa closer to him and pushing Mujuru away.
In one interview, Mugabe complained about Mujuru’s vast business interests. In 2007, at the exclusive Ruwa Country Club east of Harare, hundreds of businessmen and politicians allied to the Mujuru faction took part in the Solomon Mujuru Golf Invitational, which was less a golf tournament than a parade of the faction’s financial and political clout.
Nathaniel Manheru, a Herald columnist widely believed to be a senior Mugabe aide, complained about a “faction that has been seeking to worm itself to influence”, describing it as “greedy, anti-nation, a bit daft, without structures, but well heeled”.
The Mujurus own a web of business interests that include a large hardware company, private security firms, the country’s second-largest brickmaker, shares in financial institutions and diamond and platinum interests.
In 2007 the family won mining deals worth $1.3-billion from Chinese state companies. These included a chrome mining operation in Joice’s home area of Dande.
Mujuru also co-owned River Ranch diamond mine with Adel Abdulrahman al Aujan, a Saudi billionaire. He also reportedly owned stock in African Consolidated Resources, which originally held the concessions in the Marange diamond fields that were later seized by the government.
Whereas Joice openly benefited from Mujuru’s political backing, her rocky marriage to the powerful man behind her throne was less well known. They often appeared in public together but had, in fact, lived apart for years.
In 2004, after becoming the country’s first female vice-president, Joice gave a candid interview to state media about women’s rights. She spoke of her pain at having to bear the “other women” in her husband’s life, saying there had been “incidents that marred” their marriage.
She had given up fretting about her husband’s infidelities because to do so would be like “chasing after the wind”, she said, but she still respected Mujuru as the head of her family and he “added value” to her career.
Joice said she had accepted a nomination for vice-president only after Zanu-PF’s women’s league approached her husband, asking him to persuade her to run.
Now, without his political savvy and influence, she faces a test of the strength of her own clout, which she will need to retain control of her faction while continuing a battle against rivals.