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Mbulelo Mpofu, Zimpapers Arts & Entertainment Hub
LAST week, the usually quiet corridors of the Zimbabwe Music Rights Association were crackling with tension as the Zimura board of directors and its management moved swiftly to denounce a series of unauthorised public communications issued by what they described as a group of “disgruntled” individual directors acting without the blessing of the board.
The sharp rebuke came in response to an internal rupture that spilled into the public domain through two notices outlining grievances and attempting to chart an alternative direction for the association, laying bare fractures that had long simmered beneath the surface.
That internal schism was thrown into stark relief by the unauthorised release of a press statement dramatically titled “THE RECLAMATION OF Zimura”, dated 19 January 2026. Issued by Dereck Mpofu, the association’s Official Spokesperson, and co-signed by fellow board members Gift Amuli and Joseph Garakara, the statement read less like a routine organisational update and more like a manifesto of revolt.
It painted a bleak portrait of constitutional decay, financial impropriety and alleged corruption at the very apex of the body entrusted with safeguarding and distributing royalties for Zimbabwean musicians.
Framed under the charged banner “From Reform to Revolution: The Story of Our Struggle”, Mpofu addressed “Friends, members, and members of the press,” offering a personal narrative of hope soured by disillusionment. He recalled how he and two other new board members had joined three months earlier “with honest hope . . . trying to build a common cause” alongside colleagues believed to possess the requisite institutional experience.
“But boy, were we wrong. Two cannot walk together unless they agree, and our compatriots have agreed to be captured by the Secretariat. This is the story of a journey that began with an honest attempt to fix a broken house, but ended in the discovery of a total constitutional collapse. We are here because the time for silence is over. I will go point by point on how we got here,” Mpofu said.
What followed was a meticulous, and at times incendiary, laying out of grievances. At the top of his list was the sale of Zimura’s long-time headquarters at 80 Mendel Street in Avondale, an act he condemned as “the biggest betrayal ever.”
Mpofu spoke of the building with reverence, describing it as “a beacon of pride,” painstakingly erected by musicians “with our voices and fingers,” a physical and emotional home for generations of royalty collections. He alleged that the previous board sanctioned its sale without proper consultation, brushing aside explanations that the premises had become a “health hazard” or were “dirty” as little more than convenient fig leaves.
“If our home was crumbling, where did years of maintenance fees go?” he asked, bristling at what he saw as misplaced priorities, especially when “extravagant future offices” were floated while ordinary members languished in poverty. The accusation sharpened when he asserted, “It wasn’t about safety; it was about self-dealing.”
Mpofu went further, alleging what he called an “extreme conflict of interest.” He claimed that “the very board member who was a party to the vote that authorised the sale was employed by the Estate Agency that facilitated the deal. This director stood to gain professionally from a transaction they were meant to oversee. That is a total abdication of corporate governance bordering on criminality. They didn’t save our building; they liquidated our heritage for a commission.” The language was deliberate and damning, aimed squarely at the heart of the association’s ethical standing.
His second broadside was aimed directly at Zimura’s administrative leadership, naming general manager Polisile Ncube-Chimhini. Mpofu alleged that she carried a criminal conviction.
“We are being led by an individual convicted of fraud in 2025. Zimura, the organisation we entrusted with our royalties, is being led by a convicted fraudster who is meeting with the International Confederation of Societies of Authors and Composers (CISAC), attending meetings, and signing contracts on your behalf. It is a gross violation of standards.”
To Mpofu, this was not merely a question of optics, but one of fundamental legitimacy. He bolstered this attack by invoking a legal ruling, asserting that the High Court (Case HH 438-25) has ruled that the position of “Executive Director” does not even exist in Zimura’s Articles.
“It does not. This means we have a ‘ghost’ executive at the helm of a 6 000 member organisation. Every contract she has signed and every cent she has moved is a legal nullity. She has no legal right to sit in that chair.”
The question that hung in the air was why, if this were so, the previous board had failed to act. Attempts to resolve matters internally, Mpofu said, had been systematically thwarted by what he termed a “Culture of institutional hostility” and a deliberate “board capture” orchestrated by the Secretariat. He pointed to the election of the Chairman as a case study in procedural erosion, alleging an “Illegal Vote” in which a paid contractor — the Legal Advisor — was permitted to cast a ballot; a “quorum breach” during the co-option process; “digital sabotage” through the use of unlawful online voting mechanisms; and the “outsourced control” of the entire election to a private firm without a formal board resolution.
“This wasn’t an election; it was a scripted takeover,” Mpofu charged.
The fourth pillar of his critique struck at the association’s financial heart, with Mpofu denouncing Zimura’s funding model as “predatory.” He contrasted the grim reality of artistes receiving as little as “US$5 per year,” or even celebrated top earners receiving “US$8 000 for a full year of collected streams,” with executives allegedly earning comparable sums in a matter of months.
He outlined what he dubbed the “30 percent illusion”, explaining how management calculates its 30 percent administrative cut based on expected revenue — for example, US$700 000 on a projected US$2,1 million owed by ZBC.
Should only US$1 million be collected, “they still take their original US$700 000 and share the remaining US$300 000 among thousands of composers.” Staff salaries, he said, are paid in full on these optimistic projections, leaving artistes to shoulder any shortfall.
“This system is so broken that Stanbic Bank recently refused to offer Zimura mortgage terms, specifically citing this practice of taking salaries before paying members,” Mpofu stated.
Beyond the numbers, Mpofu lingered on the human toll of what he described, painting a sombre picture of legendary musicians dying in penury, with Zimura offering “no dignity — only a coffin and a few groceries at your funeral.” His words cut deep as he asked, “If there is truly ‘no money,’ why won’t the staff quit? They stay because they are the only ones getting fat while the artist is buried in a box they paid for a thousand times over.”
It was an indictment that sought to reframe financial mismanagement as a moral failing.
According to Mpofu, the tipping point came with the circulation of a recent letter that sought to “sanitise” the sale of the Avondale building, a document he said was issued without his verification despite his role as Spokesperson. He accused the Secretariat of acting out of panic, of seizing control of social media platforms, shutting down WhatsApp groups to stifle dissent, and allowing staff to “go rogue” with the complicity of what he termed “captured board members.”
In closing, Mpofu revealed that his faction had submitted a “Comprehensive State of the Organisation Report” to the Copyright and Intellectual Property Zimbabwe (CIPZ). Their demands were sweeping: an immediate freeze on all financial transactions; an order barring board interference with ongoing investigations; a forensic audit spanning two decades; and verification of the association’s legally binding Articles of Association.
Among their recommendations were the calling of an Extraordinary General Meeting within 21 days to vote out “compromised board members,” the suspension of General Manager Polisile Ncube-Chimhini pending investigation, and the appointment of a Judicial Manager.
“The era of shadows is over. The music belongs to us. The future belongs to us,” Mpofu proclaimed, signalling nothing less than an open rebellion within Zimura’s leadership against its current administration and Secretariat.
The very public airing of these grievances now stands in sharp contrast to the official board and management’s denunciation of such conduct, setting the stage for a bruising confrontation that could shape the organisation’s future — and, by extension, the livelihoods of the musicians it was created to serve. The situation reached its breaking point on Wednesday, when Zimura’s board of directors announced that the “aggrieved” trio had been removed from their positions.
“The removal follows a series of grave breaches of fiduciary duties and conduct prejudicial to the interests of the Association, specifically: Unauthorised Conduct and Misrepresentation: On the 19th of January 2026, the aforementioned individuals convened an unsanctioned press conference,” read part of the statement. — @MbuleloMpofu
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