Online Reporter
Theseus Shambare-Features Writer
SIX months.
Yes, that is how long a single dose of Lenacapavir can protect people who are HIV negative and at risk of getting the virus.
Six months without a daily pill.
Six months without explaining tablets to a suspicious partner.
Six months without hiding medication.
On Thursday, Zimbabwe stepped into a new phase of its HIV response with the official rollout of the long-acting prevention injection — a biomedical breakthrough that health authorities believe could close some of the country’s hardest prevention gaps.
Standing before health workers, partners and hundreds of community members at Epworth Polyclinic at the launch, Health and Child Care Minister Dr Douglas Mombeshora called the moment “a strategic turning point”.
“This is not simply the introduction of a new medicine,” he said.
“It is a shift in how we deliver prevention — from daily burden to long-acting protection. We are adapting our systems to meet people where they are.”
The Government, he added, is ensuring that access is free at public health facilities.
“Innovation must not widen inequality; it must close the gaps.”
Dr Mombeshora said celebration must not overshadow reality.
“As we celebrate this milestone, we remain clear about the challenges that persist. Stigma, misinformation, low-risk perception and access barriers still affect our communities. This is why we encourage everyone to rely on trained health professionals for accurate information. Please do not rely on rumours.
“Come to the clinic, ask questions — health services are there to help, not to judge. My ministry has prioritised strong policy foundations to support this rollout, from guidelines and health worker preparedness to supply systems and community engagement. Our goal is simple: to ensure that new innovations strengthen our health systems and serve the people who need them most.”
Zimbabwe’s HIV story is already one of hard-won progress.
The country has surpassed the UNAIDS 95-95-95 targets, with more than 95 percent of people living with HIV aware of their status, over 95 percent of those diagnosed on antiretroviral therapy and more than 95 percent of those on treatment achieving viral suppression.
National HIV prevalence has fallen to about 11,1 percent, a significant decline from the peak years of the pandemic.
Yet prevention remains the unfinished chapter.
Data from the National AIDS Council shows that key populations, including sex workers and adolescent girls in high-incidence districts, continue to face disproportionately high risks of infection.
Daily oral pre-exposure prophylaxis, commonly known as PrEP, has been available for several years and remains highly effective when taken consistently.
But consistency is not always possible in unstable lives.
Mobility disrupts routines, while stigma silences disclosure.
Police patrols force people into hiding and clinic visits become risky.
That is where Lenacapavir comes in.
Administered just twice a year after an initial phase, the injection maintains protective drug levels for six months.
Nearly 400 health workers have already been trained to deliver it.
Phase One of the rollout is targeting more than 40 000 people across selected districts, prioritising those at substantial risk.
National AIDS Council (NAC) chief executive officer Dr Benard Madzima emphasised the importance of community acceptance.
“Lenacapavir is a game-changer in HIV prevention. But science alone is not enough — we must ensure communities understand, trust and embrace it. NAC is committed to supporting education, awareness and access so that every person at risk can benefit safely and confidently,” he said.
Beneficiaries
In Epworth, on the outskirts of Harare, those gaps are not abstract.
There are faces and names.
Viola Mafuwu and Esna Chinenyanga are among beneficiaries of the new drug.
Both are sex workers who have relied on daily oral PrEP for protection.
And last week, they stepped forward for something different — receiving the Lenacapavir injection.
For Chinenyanga, consistency was always fragile.
“There were times I would forget.
“You tell yourself you will take it later, then the day ends,” she admitted.
Her work often takes her across borders.
She once travelled to Mozambique with a regular client — a truck driver.
They had planned to return the same day.
They did not.
“We stayed longer than expected. I had not carried enough tablets. I missed doses,” she said.
“I was worried.”
Mobility disrupts routine and prevention becomes uncertain.
Mafuwu told The Sunday Mail that her job has many challenges.
“Some clients are HIV negative.
“When they see you taking PrEP, they think it is ARVs. They think you are positive,” Mafuwu said.
Suspicion follows. Questions follow. Stigma lingers.
“You end up hiding the tablets.
“Sometimes you skip because you don’t want to explain,” she said.
There were moments of fear, too.
“Sometimes a condom bursts because a client does not use it properly.
“After that, you panic. You think, ‘What if?’ It takes time to calm down,” she said.
It was after one such scare that she resolved not to hesitate when offered the injection.
“When they said this one protects for six months, I didn’t think twice. The protection is worth it,” she added.
Moments after receiving the jab, both women shrugged off concerns about pain.
“It’s normal,” Chinenyanga smiled.
“Not something to fear.”
Not only women stepped forward that day.
Twenty-nine-year-old Learnmore Mandaza, a male sex worker who is also a peer educator, waited for his turn.
His work is unpredictable, moving between Epworth and Murewa, making daily PrEP hard to maintain.
“When you rush somewhere, you forget. Then you worry,” he said.
After receiving the injection in his thigh, he also took two PrEP pills on the spot, with the other two scheduled for the following day.
“Six months of protection — now I don’t have to think about it every day. The pain? Just an injection. Nothing to fear.
“For HIV prevention, men must also take responsibility. This makes it easier,” Mandaza added.
Their words capture the deeper significance of this rollout.
Lenacapavir is not just a scientific upgrade; it is a systems test.
Zimbabwe’s HIV response has evolved from emergency crisis management in the early 2000s to a data-driven, community-integrated model today.
Viral load testing is decentralised.
Differentiated service delivery allows stable patients to collect medication less frequently.
Community-led monitoring has strengthened accountability.
But prevention among vulnerable groups has lagged behind treatment success.
Dr Mombeshora acknowledged that biomedical innovation alone was not enough.
“We must confront stigma directly,” he said.
“We must protect confidentiality. We must ensure our health workers are equipped not only with medicine, but with empathy.”
Storage and monitoring side effects
The introduction of Lenacapavir also raises practical questions.
Long-acting injectables require reliable supply chains and cold storage capacity.
They demand strong pharmacovigilance systems to monitor side effects and resistance.
Also, they require sustainable financing in a landscape where donor funding can fluctuate.
Government officials say Zimbabwe is working closely with partners to secure an uninterrupted supply while strengthening domestic resource mobilisation to protect gains already made.
For health advocates, the true measure of transformation will lie beyond the launch ceremony.
Will rural clinics receive equal access?
Will key populations feel safe enough to accept the injection?
Will uptake be sustained after the initial enthusiasm fades?
In many ways, Epworth provides a preview.
Here, prevention is discussed not in policy jargon, but in late-night conversations between peers.
It is carried through dusty streets by women and men who once feared clinics but now guide others back into them.
Those who have taken the injection plan to educate others.
They expect questions on safety and side effects.
Zimbabwe’s ambition remains clear: ending AIDS as a public health threat by 2030.
That goal demands not only maintaining viral suppression among those already living with HIV but also preventing new infections in communities still on the margins.
Lenacapavir alone cannot achieve that.
Condom programming must continue.
Oral PrEP must remain accessible and ART services must stay uninterrupted.
Legal and social reforms must address the structural drivers that fuel vulnerability.
But this injection represents something rare in public health — a convergence of science and lived reality.
Six months of protection. Twice a year. Administered in seconds.
For a country that has already rewritten much of its HIV narrative, Lenacapavir offers a chance to finish the story differently; not only with targets met, but with prevention tailored to the complex rhythms of real lives.
As singer and songwriter from Chitungwiza, Saintfloew — born Tawanda Mambo — took to centre stage to entertain community members, the applause echoed across the venue.
But as the music softened and implementation began, the future of Zimbabwe’s prevention strategy would unfold quietly in places like Epworth.
In narrow clinic corridors, community meetings and whispered conversations that slowly become confident ones, the injection has arrived.
Treatment services must stay strong.
Structural barriers must be addressed.
But in a country that has already rewritten much of its HIV story, this injection offers a different kind of prevention — one shaped not only by science, but by the rhythms of real lives.
Now the system must prove it can deliver not just medicine — but dignity.
And for people like Mafuwu, Chinenyanga and Mandaza, that difference is measured not in statistics, but in six quiet months of protection.
