Online Reporter
Miriam Tose Majome
Correspondent
It is that time of the year again!
October is breast cancer awareness month and the pink ribbons are out in full force. Across the country, various causes are springing up in the name of cancer awareness and support.
Many of the publicity causes are well-intentioned, but not all.
Alongside the genuine efforts are chancers who have discovered that there is good money to be made by exploiting both sponsors and well-wishers. They stage golf tournaments, luncheons and charity runs, among other events, but real sufferers and survivors are rarely invited to take part.
I know this from my own experience and battle with breast cancer.
I was even expected to pay to participate in some of the activities.
The disability movement often uses the slogan “Nothing About Us Without Us,” and that phrase captures the essence. You cannot build a genuine cause to highlight a certain problem while leaving the people affected by it out of it.
Cancer awareness has become a bestselling brand on its own. Almost anyone can exploit the brand because it belongs to no one, so there is little to no accountability to anyone.
Some organisers claim to give proceeds to the Cancer Association of Zimbabwe; others state in very fine print or vague terms that the proceeds will go to “cancer research.”
This may sound reassuring but can mean nothing at all. Donors, moved by compassion, rarely ever check where the money went. The appeals they respond to with such generosity are sometimes nothing more than scams.
The formula is simple. Choose a disease that terrifies everyone, wrap a noble cause around it, and create a glamorous event that makes participants feel they are doing good.
Cancer is particularly vulnerable because it touches almost every family in one way or another. In Zimbabwe, where patients are constantly appealing for help on WhatsApp or Facebook to raise money for chemotherapy or treatment abroad, citizens are already primed to give.
That generosity is a virtue, but it can also be manipulated.
Even when the events are real, the question is how much of the money raised actually reaches patients and who audits it. Too often, the bulk is swallowed by “event costs,” inflated invoices or simply pocketed.
The lack of proper oversight makes it impossible to trace. What makes this worse is the exclusion of survivors.
The people who know the disease best, who can speak to its realities and direct the help where it is most needed, are sidelined. They are replaced by glossy branding and photo opportunities.
Sometimes survivors and the affected, who are invited, are treated as token symbols for parading to guests. This can strip these efforts of credibility as survivors are robbed of dignity.
The Zimbabwean context makes the damage even greater.
Our public hospitals are often short of essential drugs and appropriate facilities and care. In desperation, families often resort to fundraising for local or external treatment.
Most of the appeals are genuine but the sheer number of them has created room for fraudsters. Fictitious patients are not unheard of. Money raised goes well beyond what was needed and the excess quietly disappears.
Even large corporate initiatives sometimes spend more on advertising their involvement than on real direct help.
The Cancer Association of Zimbabwe is not always notified about some of the events held in its name, and so has no chance to guide or monitor them. In that vacuum, opportunists thrive.
This is not a uniquely Zimbabwean story. In the United States, the Cancer Fund of America and its affiliates once raised over US$187 million, with only a fraction ever reaching patients.
The rest funded luxury cars, cruises and bloated salaries.
In Kenya, marathon charity proceeds have been dogged by questions about where the money goes.
In South Africa, concerns have been raised about whether awareness campaigns are more about celebrity appearances than about saving lives. The pattern is familiar: where oversight is weak, cancer becomes a profitable brand for the unscrupulous.
But here, the consequences are even harsher. Fraud in the name of cancer is not like the looting of a road project or a school budget. Those are serious crimes, but when cancer funds are misused, what is stolen is trust itself.
Compassion is one of the few remaining instincts that unites us. To betray it is to make donors hesitate the next time they are asked to help. That hesitation costs lives. Patients who could have been saved are left stranded because people are no longer sure who to believe.
Families who have lost loved ones feel dishonoured when they realise their names or memories may have been exploited for gain. It is a deeper wound than financial theft. It is moral sabotage.
If this problem is to be addressed, there must be reforms.
Transparency should be non-negotiable. Anyone raising funds in the name of cancer should be able to account clearly for how much was raised and where it went, although this is hard to implement because there is no regulator for fundraising activities.
Corporate sponsors would help by demanding audited statements before lending their support. Individual and institutional donors too must take responsibility by asking questions before opening their wallets.
They must ask who benefits, and how much of each dollar goes to patients and what oversight structures exist. Survivors and patient groups must be involved in all initiatives. Their voices are not optional but essential.
Above all, the Cancer Association of Zimbabwe should be informed of any event that trades on cancer awareness, so that there is at least one point of accountability.
And, when fraud is discovered, the punishment should be real. This is not a minor irregularity. It is a crime against both the sick and the compassionate.
Cancer is not a logo, a brand, a slogan or a theme for a corporate dinner. It is a disease that devastates lives and families. To exploit it for profit is more than dishonesty but is betrayal.
Well-wishers cannot afford to lose trust in their culture of giving, because in an environment where the healthcare system is already fragile, that trust often stands between life and death.
The fight against cancer must be built on sincerity, accountability and inclusion. Nothing about us should ever be done without us.
Miriam Tose Majome is a lawyer and a Commissioner with the Zimbabwe Media Commission. She writes in her personal capacity and can be contacted on [email protected]
