Online Reporter
THE crash that claimed the lives of Highlanders Football Club chairman Kenneth Mhlophe, vice-chairman Sifiso Siziba, and treasurer Nkani Khoza was not just a tragedy for the Bosso family; it was a national indictment.
The location of the crash — approximately 60 kilometres outside Bulawayo — sits on a stretch of road that has become synonymous with needless death.
In 2017, the Traffic Safety Council of Zimbabwe (TSCZ) spent US$320 000 to erect a boundary fence on both sides of this highway between Gweru and Ntabazinduna.
The rationale was simple and sound: prevent stray livestock from wandering onto the tarmac, thereby reducing the horrific collisions that have turned this route into a morgue.
Yet, despite the noble investment, the fence is a shadow of its former self. It has been systematically vandalised, stripped of its wire and poles by scavengers and criminals who view safety infrastructure as a source of quick cash. The result is a highway that is once again a death trap.
We cannot claim ignorance of the consequences. This isn’t an isolated incident; it is a recurring nightmare.
The names and faces of the deceased are a roll call of Zimbabwean grief. In August 2013, National Railways of Zimbabwe general manager Air Commodore Mike Tichafa Karakadzai (Retired) died after his car struck a stray cow and swerved into a haulage truck. In September 2016, Apostle Charles Chiriseri lost his life in the Mbembesi area. In October 2025, opposition lawmaker Desire
Moyo died when his vehicle hit an elephant on the same highway. And now, in 2026, we mourn three football executives who contributed immensely to the nation’s sporting culture.
How many more leaders, pastors, and ordinary citizens must die before we treat the theft of safety barriers as the serious crime it is?
The “Shangani” and “Mbembesi” stretches have become code words for tragedy. We have seen mass casualty events here before.
The Bulawayo-bound bus that collided with a haulage truck in December 2013, the six who died in a side-swipe in April 2012, and the seven who perished in a Botswana-registered bus overturning in March 2012. The pattern is undeniable.
The contributing factors are often the same: stray livestock, high speeds, and the absence of physical barriers to separate vehicles from the dangers lurking at the roadside.
The TSCZ must be commended for its initial intervention. However, funding a project is only half the battle; maintaining it is the war. Currently, the vandals are winning. There appears to be no deterrence. The fence is treated as a free-for-all resource, and the Zimbabwe Republic Police (ZRP) and local authorities appear powerless in stopping the plunder.
The Government must reclassify the highway fencing as protected strategic infrastructure. This designation will allow for stiffer penalties, including mandatory prison sentences without the option of a fine for anyone caught vandalising or in possession of stolen fence materials.
We have the solution. We built the fence. But a fence is only useful if it is standing. It is time for the authorities to act with the urgency this crisis demands.
The blood on the tarmac is on our hands if we allow the vandals to continue their work.
