Online Reporter
Emmanuel Kafe-Check Point Desk
ACROSS Zimbabwe, growing numbers of people are turning to social media for medical advice and quick fixes — and many are paying a devastating price.
From the high-density suburbs of Harare to the villages of Chipinge, Facebook posts, WhatsApp groups, and TikTok videos have become digital pharmacies — peddling hope in the form of “miracle roots,” “instant cures,” “fertility boosters,” and “weight-loss injections”.
Most are unregistered. Some are toxic. All thrive at the intersection of trust, desperation, and digital influence.
Check Point investigates how online health misinformation is worsening Zimbabwe’s disease burden — one click at a time.
Victims of the ‘Click-to-Cure’ Craze
It was just before dawn when Tendai Jani, a 34-year-old mother from Harare, brewed what she believed was her long-awaited cure.
After years of battling infertility, she received a WhatsApp message from a friend advertising a herbal concoction said to “cleanse the womb” and “restore fertility.”
She paid a courier, received a bottle wrapped in brown paper, and took the remedy faithfully for two days.
By the third morning, she was doubled over in pain. A week later, she was in the hospital — her kidneys failing. What had been promised to bring life was instead destroying it.
“They told me it was pure and safe,” she recalls. “I wanted to be a mother. I never thought I could end up needing dialysis.”
Months later, Tendai is still recovering. Her savings are gone, but her voice is steady. “If I can tell one woman not to trust these online cures,” she says, “then my pain won’t be for nothing.”
Her story is far from isolated. In Chitungwiza, a 27-year-old man, Elias Mandiona, ordered a weight-loss injection promoted by a local fitness influencer.
It arrived in a plain syringe, unlabelled. Within days, his skin turned yellow and his abdomen swelled painfully. Doctors later revealed his liver was functioning at only 30 percent. “I thought I was saving money,” he says. “Now I’ve lost more than I can count.”
Each story echoes the same refrain — misinformation, misplaced trust, and delayed medical care — leading to lives upended, organs damaged, and families burdened with bills they can never repay.
The ordeals of Tendai and Elias are symptoms of a deeper problem — the unchecked spread of health misinformation across Zimbabwe’s digital space.
From old wives’ tales passed down through generations to viral “miracle cure” posts online, health myths have always existed.
But today, social media gives them wings, spreading false claims faster than the truth and shaping dangerous behaviours that undermine public health.
Platforms such as Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp, and TikTok are awash with influencers and vendors marketing unverified products and so-called “scientific” herbal remedies.
Using catchy slogans, dramatic before-and-after pictures, and glowing paid reviews, these digital promoters prey on people’s insecurities and fears — turning pain into profit and misinformation into a booming business.
The Medicines Control Authority of Zimbabwe (MCAZ) has been raising red flags for years.
Unregistered products like Superlife Total Care (STC30) — marketed as curing everything from cancer to infertility — continue to circulate online, often falsely claiming official approval.
MCAZ director-general Mr Richard Rukwata has repeatedly warned the public: “STC30 and similar herbal products are not registered for sale in Zimbabwe.
Advertising any medicine without written approval is illegal and poses serious risks to public health.”
In its latest statement issued in April 2025, MCAZ warned that influencers, celebrities, and online vendors promoting unapproved medicines on social media face prosecution under the Medicines and Allied Substances Control Act. Despite these warnings, hundreds of such adverts continue to flood social media — often endorsed by well-known personalities, lending false credibility to dangerous products.
Health professionals are seeing the consequences first-hand. Dr Pamela Chikasha, a Harare-based physician, says she now treats dozens of patients each month whose conditions worsened after following social media “treatments.”
“One woman with Type II diabetes stopped her insulin after using a syrup she saw online,” says Dr Chikasha. “When she arrived, her blood sugar was dangerously high. It took hours to stabilise her.”
Obstetrician-gynaecologist Dr Gerald Muringanai warns that the misuse of antibiotics bought online is fuelling antimicrobial resistance — one of the world’s most pressing public health threats.
“People are mixing antibiotics they buy online without prescriptions,” he says. “It’s breeding resistance. Soon, the drugs we rely on will no longer work.”
Dr Muringanai warned that the misuse of such unregistered products — especially those claiming to boost fertility or cure reproductive health problems — could have serious, long-term consequences for women and unborn babies.
“Products like STC30 are aggressively marketed as miracle cures for infertility, menstrual problems, and even pregnancy complications. But these substances are not clinically tested. They can interfere with hormones, damage vital organs, and, in pregnant women, even trigger miscarriages or congenital abnormalities.”
He added that unverified supplements often contain undeclared ingredients, including steroids and heavy metals, which can silently harm women’s reproductive systems.
“We are now seeing women presenting with hormonal imbalances, irregular cycles, and complications in early pregnancy after using these so-called ‘natural’ remedies,” said Dr Muringanai. “What worries us is that many delay coming to hospitals until the damage is already done.”
He further cautioned that the marketing of such products preys on women’s hopes — especially those struggling with infertility. “Infertility is deeply emotional. Many women will try anything that promises a child. But unregulated online products exploit that desperation, often with devastating outcomes.”
Obstetricians, he said, are urging women to seek advice only from licensed healthcare professionals and to report any suspicious products to authorities. His fears are supported by data.
A BioMed Central (BMC) analysis titled “Trends in Antimicrobial Resistance of Bacterial Pathogens in Harare, Zimbabwe (2012–2017)” found that resistance to first-line antibiotics such as Ampicillin had reached up to 100 percent among some bacteria, while even “last-resort” drugs were beginning to fail. In Bulawayo, 84,5 percent of E. coli samples from urinary infections were resistant to Ampicillin, while 68,5 percent were resistant to Cotrimoxazole — antibiotics often bought without a prescription.
While MCAZ is mandated to regulate the sale and promotion of medicines, enforcement is proving difficult.
Promoters often operate behind fake names, encrypted WhatsApp numbers, and cross-border supply chains. Influencers, some unaware of the harm they cause, amplify unverified cures to thousands. Traditional medicine remains deeply respected — and many herbal treatments are indeed effective.
But when trusted tradition meets unverified digital commerce, it creates a dangerous mix of half-truths and hope.
Between 2012 and 2017, Harare laboratories recorded 70–100 percent resistance to common first-line antibiotics such as Ampicillin among certain pathogens. In Bulawayo, E. coli resistance stood at 84,5 percent for Ampicillin and 68,5 percent for Cotrimoxazole.
Meanwhile, unregistered herbal supplements like STC30 continue to circulate widely despite repeated warnings — fuelling a growing public health crisis.
These figures translate into prolonged illnesses, failed treatments, and preventable deaths — an escalating threat that demands urgent national attention.
The MCAZ has now partnered with the Zimbabwe Republic Police to crack down on illegal online medical adverts and unregistered medicines. Public awareness campaigns are being scaled up to warn citizens of the dangers of self-medicating through social media.
Medical experts say the fight must happen where the misinformation thrives — on WhatsApp, TikTok, Facebook, and other platforms.
As Dr Chikasha puts it: “People are getting sick in the same spaces where they’re looking for help. That’s where we need to reach them.”
