Online Reporter
Emmanuel Kafe
Check Point Desk
ACROSS Harare and far beyond, unregistered “colleges” trade in hope.
From narrow corridors off the city centre to WhatsApp groups and Facebook pages, they promise quick certificates, fast-track diplomas and cheap paths to employment.
For job-seekers, the offer sounds like salvation.
Yet for many, that bridge collapses the moment they try to cross it.
A recent inspection by the Ministry of Higher and Tertiary Education, Innovation, Science and Technology Development uncovered 111 institutions operating illegally, with 42 formally deregistered.
Harare and Chitungwiza alone accounted for 36 of the unregistered outfits flagged.
Earlier, the Government shutdown 368 technical and vocational training centres under the Manpower Planning and Development Act for similar offences.
The Zimbabwe Council for Higher Education (ZIMCHE) has expressed “grave concern” over the proliferation of unregistered institutions conferring “fraudulent undergraduate and postgraduate qualifications, including both allegedly earned and honorary PhDs.”
The Council warned that individuals using such fake titles risk legal consequences, including civil and criminal prosecution.
“Some institutions persist in defying the law, continuing to enrol students and issue fraudulent degrees,” ZIMCHE said in a March 2025 statement.
“Of particular concern is also the use of false titles such as ‘Professor’ or ‘Doctor’ by officials from these institutions and by recipients of these dubious qualifications.”
The permanent secretary in the Ministry of Higher and Tertiary Education, Professor Fanuel Tagwira, said inspection exercises are part of efforts to clean up the education sector.
“The ministry will continuously carry out its mandate of inspecting private and independent education and training institutions to ensure that they are compliant with national standards,” he said.
A system built on illusion
The scheme is as simple as it is deceptive.
A small rented office, a receptionist behind a desk, brochures advertising “Business Administration” or “IT Diplomas,” and a sales pitch that promises flexibility and recognition.
Prospective students are told they can “drop in and drop out”, finish within weeks, and walk away with a “nationally recognised” certificate.
Fees range from a few hundred dollars in hard currency — enough to seem attainable, yet costly for the average family.
After payment comes the illusion of learning: a registration form, a few printed notes, perhaps one or two weekend “lectures.”
At the end, a laminated certificate — convincing at first glance but worthless when subjected to verification.
When graduates attempt to use these papers for jobs or further study, they quickly discover the truth.
Employers ask for accrediting bodies that do not exist; training institutions deny any affiliation.
Some of the so-called colleges claim “international partnerships”; others shift addresses, rename themselves, or move online to evade detection.
ZIMCHE chief executive officer, Professor Kuzvinetsa Peter Dzvimbo, said many “frequently change locations to avoid enforcement”.
Victims speak
Tendai Matwimbo, 26, a Harare resident, allegedly paid US$350 for a three-month “Business Administration Diploma”.
She had enrolled at what she believed was a legitimate weekend business programme at New Horizon Management College in Waterfalls, Harare.
The office looked professional; the certificate impressive.
“I thought my struggle was over,” she says.
“I had borrowed money from my cousin and used part of my aunt’s funeral payout. Instead, I bought shame.”
Misheck Mukono (24) from Chitungwiza, tells a similar story.
After paying US$200 for a “computer literacy diploma” with Crestwood Business Institute, he was told he could “graduate” within weeks.
“They said I would work as a receptionist or admin officer,” he recalls.
“When I went for an interview, they searched my certificate and said it didn’t exist anywhere. It felt like I had worked, paid, but owned nothing.”
For victims like them, the loss is more than financial.
There is humiliation, isolation and a deep sense of betrayal — the realisation that the very pursuit of self-improvement has been turned into a scam.
Why demand persists
The demand is real — and relentless.
With competition for formal jobs high, a certificate, however dubious, feels like a lifeline.
Educationist Dr Agrippa Mhunde says each year, thousands of young people invest what little they have into what they believe is a chance at advancement.
He said despite periodic crackdowns, enforcement remains uneven.
“Inspections identify offenders, but new operations often emerge before closure orders take effect.
“The 2024 announcement of 368 shutdowns, while significant, highlighted the sheer scale of the problem nationally.
“Regulators face limited manpower, outdated databases and the challenge of tracing operators who relocate or rebrand overnight,” says Dr Mhunde.
Employers, too, shoulder part of the blame.
Dr Mhunde said, “Fake qualifications, fake résumés of employment and the like cannot be allowed.”
He urged organisations to practise due diligence in their recruitment processes.
ZIMCHE has also reminded employers to authenticate qualifications with the Council before hiring.
Even in critical sectors such as healthcare, loopholes persist.
In October 2025, the Ministry of Health and Child Care announced that all student nurse applicants will now be vetted through the Zimbabwe School Examinations Council (ZIMSEC) to confirm academic records — a step towards tighter screening, though it comes too late for many who have already lost savings to fake institutions.
Bridging the gap
Dr Mhunde says the fight against fake colleges requires a coordinated response built around prevention, protection and prosecution.
“Public awareness must improve, with job-seekers urged to verify any college’s registration status with ZIMCHE or the Ministry before enrolling.”
ZIMCHE’s “Check the List” campaign reminded citizens that “if your university is not registered, your degree is useless”.
Experts say that regulators must shift from reactive inspections to proactive policing — conducting unannounced audits, swiftly prosecuting repeat offenders, and maintaining real-time tracking of training centres.
Victims also need a pathway to justice, as many have lost their savings with no means of refund or support.
Partnerships between Government and civil society groups could help provide legal aid, debt counselling and mental health assistance.
Beyond enforcement, there is need to expand legitimate, affordable and accessible training options.
“If registered institutions offer short, part-time and low-cost programmes, the lure of ‘quick certificates’ may fade.
“Employers must also play their part by verifying all credentials before hiring and rejecting unaccredited ones outright,” says Dr Mhunde.
The world of quick qualifications is no fringe phenomenon, it is a growing industry feeding on hope and desperation.
For every young Zimbabwean who pays believing in a brighter future, there is the risk of receiving a certificate that opens no door.
Until regulation tightens and public vigilance strengthens, Harare’s backstreets and digital corridors will remain home to an expanding network of “colleges” selling dreams that dissolve into debt.
