marble nkomo
Theseus Shambare , Features Writer
A FATHER survived the journey. His wife and five children did not.
Days later, another family of four was gone on a different highway.
Then came the inferno between Old Jamaica Inn/Chipangali and Diana’s pool turn off, well before Danger escarpment along the Bulawayo — Gwanda Road where a commuter omnibus burst into flames and 12 people were killed.
The dates change. The roads do not.
Every few weeks, Zimbabwe is confronted by the same images: twisted metal, shattered glass, shoes on the roadside, names turning into hashtags, families turning into memories.
The warnings are always familiar. Slow down. Do not overtake recklessly. Avoid night travel. Use roadworthy vehicles. Do not carry flammable materials.
Yet the mourning keeps returning.
Those headline-grabbing crashes command national attention because of their scale and heartbreak.
But behind the tragedies that dominate front pages lies a more relentless crisis: road carnage in Zimbabwe is not occasional. It is daily.
According to statistics from the Traffic Safety Council of Zimbabwe (TSCZ) and the Zimbabwe Republic Police (ZRP), a road traffic accident occurs roughly every 15 minutes in the country.
About five people die on average each day, while more than 150 perish every month.
More than 90 percent of these crashes are linked to human error — speeding, dangerous overtaking, distraction, fatigue, phone use and negligence.
In 2025 alone, road traffic crashes rose sharply.
Official figures recorded 15 350 crashes in the second quarter, a 19,8 percent increase from the first quarter, leaving 492 people dead and 2 926 injured.
During the festive period between December 15 and 26, another 2 412 crashes were recorded, with 100 deaths.
The spectacular crashes make headlines. The quieter daily collisions fill hospitals, funeral parlours and grieving homes with less notice.
That is the contradiction Zimbabwe must now face. The country knows what kills on the road.
Yet it continues to bury the dead as though the causes remain a mystery.
The father who survived the Mvuma crash knows otherwise.
His family had been travelling to a church conference when their Toyota Corolla was involved in a head-on collision with a truck near the 246-kilometre peg along the Harare-Masvingo Highway.
His wife and five children died.
Before the country could process that loss, another family was erased.
Near Shangani, along the Harare-Bulawayo Highway, the Dube family’s vehicle was involved in a fatal crash.
The parents died at the scene. Their two children later succumbed at the hospital.
Then came the Esigodini explosion.
Police said 12 people were aboard a Toyota Quantum that burst into flames between Chipangali and the Esigodini tollgate along the Bulawayo-Beitbridge Highway.
Eyewitness Mr Andrew Ncube arrived moments later.
“When I arrived at the scene of the accident, there were bodies thrown all over the place. Some were on the sides of the road while two were on the road,” he was quoted saying.
Amid the devastation, two victims were still alive when he got there.
“The lady was asking for water. We were told help was coming, but she passed on before the ambulance arrived,” said Mr Ncube.
Authorities later said the force of the blast was so severe that one body was found nearly 100 metres from the wreckage.
The details horrify because they are extreme.
But the roots of such disasters are often ordinary: impatience, recklessness, distraction and disregard for life.
One recent viral video exposed that danger in real time.
A bus driver was filmed watching a video on his phone while driving at speed with passengers on board along the Masvingo Road towards Bulawayo.
The reaction online was swift.
“Munhu anofanirwa kubhaniwa ku driver public transport kumudzosa ku Class 4 chaiko (This person must be banned from driving public transport)… This should be an example to every driver out there,” wrote Hardlife Munago.
Another commenter, Emmaculate WekwaChokuda, said: “Drivers like this one are a threat to human life … tiri kuchema nemaaccidents rimwe… rinoona video rakatakura vanhu. Please tibetserei.”
What shocked many Zimbabweans was not that it happened.
It was how familiar it looked.
Passengers across the country know the signs: the driver texting while steering, the reckless overtake on a blind curve, the race to beat another bus, the fatigue in tired eyes, the music too loud to hear fear.
Too often, passengers remain silent. Some fear confrontation. Some need to reach home urgently.
Others assume someone else will speak. In that silence, danger grows.
TSCZ managing director Mr Munesu Munodawafa says authorities continue to intensify both education and enforcement.
“As we head towards major travel periods, we take note that we will be having increased traffic on our roads,” he said.
“So we have also upped our campaigns where we urge motorists to exercise caution on the roads, to travel during the day, to avoid speeding and to avoid unnecessary overtaking.”
He said 50 teams comprising TSCZ, ZRP, VID and Road Motor Transportation had been deployed, alongside ambulances for rescue services.
But his most striking appeal was directed at the public.
“Instead of just taking videos and pictures, we urge members of the public to render emergency response services so that people can get assistance within the golden hour,” he said.
That phrase — the golden hour — matters. It refers to the critical moments after serious injury when rapid assistance can mean survival.
Yet too many accident scenes first attract cameras before first aid.
Phones have documented countless tragedies.
They have saved very few lives.
Transport and Infrastructural Development Minister Felix Mhona recently framed the challenge with a simple phrase: Watch the kilometre ahead.
“Reflecting on that kilometre ahead, we envision not just the road, but the lives that depend on it,” he said.
“Each kilometre represents precious moments with our loved ones, memories waiting to be created and the safe return of every individual to their home.”
It is difficult to imagine a clearer description of what is at stake.
Every kilometre carries decisions.
A driver chooses whether to speed or slow down.
An operator chooses whether profit comes before maintenance.
A passenger chooses whether to board an unsafe vehicle.
A regulator chooses whether rules are enforced consistently or only after blood is spilled.
And society chooses whether recklessness is condemned or tolerated.
Road safety is not merely a policing issue. It is a culture issue. No law can sit in every driver’s conscience. No roadblock can replace discipline.
No siren can reverse a decision already made at high speed.
The cost of failure is measured far beyond crash scenes.
Children lose parents. Parents bury children. Breadwinners disappear. School fees vanish. Homes slide into hardship.
Communities lose teachers, nurses, workers and neighbours.
A road death does not end at burial.
It continues in empty chairs, unpaid bills and birthdays that become memorials.
Zimbabwe already knows the warnings. It has heard them for years.
What it needs now is not another slogan, but obedience to the truths it already understands.
Because the next crash is always described as sudden.
In truth, it is usually built slowly — one careless choice at a time.
The next kilometre is approaching.
What happens there is still in human hands.
Online Reporter