Zimbabwe Caught By WEF Globalists In A Vice-grip Far More Deadly Than Colonialism, Apartheid, or Sanctions
Zimbabwe’s political and corporate elites have been fully captured by the World Economic Forum (WEF)
Since the fateful events of November 2017, Zimbabwe has been caught in a vice-grip far more deadly than colonialism, apartheid, or sanctions. It is a new kind of conquest: one that wears a local face, speaks the local language, and professes to act in the name of national interest, but whose heart beats to the drums of Davos and its globalist masters. Zimbabwe’s political and corporate elites have been fully captured by the World Economic Forum (WEF), the United Nations' Agenda 2030 technocrats, and the sprawling networks of global capital. This is a sophisticated occupation, without tanks or gunships, but its effects are far more devastating. It is the silent killing of a nation’s soul.
The World Economic Forum, founded by Klaus Schwab in 1971, is no benign convener of leaders for dialogue as it presents itself. It is a Trojan horse for the imposition of global governance without the consent of the governed. It networks selected politicians, corporate executives, and “civil society leaders” into a seamless apparatus of control. It grooms new agents through its Young Global Leaders and Global Shapers programs, embedding their values and agenda into every corner of public life. From health to education, from minerals to digital IDs, the WEF's hand shapes the narrative, sets the agenda, and dictates policy. Their dream is a world where, in Schwab’s own words, "you will own nothing, and you will be happy." A technocratic dystopia where a small oligarchic elite monopolises all assets, land, water, minerals, energy, and the masses are turned into compliant digital serfs.
In Zimbabwe, the capture has been executed with chilling efficiency. Emmerson Mnangagwa, the man who rose to power promising a "new dispensation," has instead delivered the country into the hands of international financiers, WEF architects, and a small cartel of rent-seeking oligarchs. His inner circle, men like Mthuli Ncube, the Finance Minister, are the high priests of this betrayal. Far from being technocrats working for national prosperity, they are operators who understand very well their role: to facilitate the greatest transfer of wealth from the people of Zimbabwe into private, often offshore, hands.
The creation of entities like Kuvimba Mining House and later the Mutapa Investment Fund were not acts of sovereign economic strategy; they were instruments designed to consolidate state assets into unaccountable corporate vehicles where looting could occur efficiently and with legal cover. Under the guise of "state capitalism," critical assets from mining, banking, agriculture, and real estate were bundled into these opaque structures, shielded from parliamentary oversight and public scrutiny. What was left of the commons was effectively privatised into the hands of a tiny ruling clique.
The Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe has been central to this looting operation. Rather than acting as a guardian of monetary integrity, it has become a piggy bank for the elite. By printing local currency without restraint, under the guise of "stimulating the economy", the Reserve Bank engineers inflation by design. High inflation acts as a hidden tax on the poor and middle class, transferring purchasing power away from the public and into the hands of those who own hard assets: land, gold, forex accounts. The cycles are predictable and devastating: money printing triggers inflation, which leads to high interest rates, which kills productive investment, forcing the population into dependency and desperation. During each crisis, the politically connected scoop up distressed assets for pennies on the dollar.
Meanwhile, the banking sector, largely owned or controlled by politically aligned interests, plays its role by facilitating corrupt transactions, smuggling operations, and money laundering schemes. Massive volumes of gold, diamonds, and cash are siphoned out of Zimbabwe every month, routed through illicit networks into Dubai, London, New York, and Hong Kong. These cities are not simply destinations of stolen wealth; they are active participants, providing safe havens, shell companies, and luxury real estate to cleanse and conceal the plunder. What is laundered abroad is not just money, it is the lifeblood of Zimbabwe’s future, the very means by which the next generation might have rebuilt a nation.
This is how the rentier economy works: the wealth of the country, generated by its natural resources and human labor, flows upward into the hands of a few local oligarchs and their foreign partners, leaving behind a desert of poverty, crumbling infrastructure, and despair. High taxes on ordinary businesses and workers further cripple domestic enterprise, ensuring that only the connected thrive. The goal is not development but dependency. The people are kept too poor to organize, too distracted to resist, too demoralized to hope.
A key enabler of this system is propaganda, and few have played the role as visibly as Rutendo Matinyarare. Once mistaken for an independent voice, Matinyarare has increasingly revealed himself as a mouthpiece for globalist agendas cleverly repackaged as pan-Africanism. His tireless promotion of M23 rebels and their backers in Rwanda, all actors in the broader global war to capture Congo's vast mineral wealth, betrays his true loyalties. The same voices pushing for foreign-backed oligarchic control over Congo’s cobalt, diamonds, and coltan are the ones celebrating and protecting Zimbabwe’s own oligarchs like Kudakwashe Tagwirei, Scott Sakupwanya, and others.
Matinyarare's propaganda shields the looters, praises their "patriotism," demonises independent critics, and pushes the toxic narrative that true sovereignty lies in aligning with the very institutions that are stripping Africa bare. He sings hymns to the WEF's projects, couches the theft of Zimbabwe’s resources in the language of "nationalisation," and sells the false dream that by surrendering to these forces, Zimbabwe is reclaiming its dignity. It is not patriotism, it is treason of the highest order.
The suspicious nature of the 2017 coup itself now comes into clearer focus. Far from a genuine revolution from within, it increasingly appears to have been the opening gambit in a larger game: the re-opening of Zimbabwe to IMF and World Bank influence, the re-colonisation of our economy under new management. The rapid adoption of WEF-aligned policies post-coup, the swift embedding of young technocrats trained in Western elite institutions, the visible synchronization with UN Agenda 2030 timelines, all point to a carefully coordinated capture.
Today, Zimbabwe stands at a critical crossroads. Gold prices are at historic highs; lithium is the new oil; Africa's resources are once again the prize of global empires. Yet our hospitals collapse, our roads disintegrate, our youth flee or rot in idleness. How can it be that at the moment of greatest potential wealth, our suffering deepens? The answer is simple and horrifying: because our leaders have sold us. They have sold us not even for a new world, but for a seat at the table of the old masters.
It is not enough to be angry. It is not enough to blame. We must awaken. We must expose every lie, name every traitor, tear down every illusion. Zimbabwe's struggle today is not against a political party, nor even against a single regime. It is a struggle against a global machine of domination that has simply found willing black faces to enforce white structures of control.
I could see the connection clearly once William Ruto paid a state visit to Zimbabwe. William Ruto’s rise to power in Kenya marked a deepening of the country’s entrenchment into the globalist agenda spearheaded by the World Economic Forum (WEF) and its allies. Branded as a populist and hustler-friendly candidate, Ruto’s administration swiftly aligned with globalist directives the moment he took office. Kenya has become a central testing ground for digital identity infrastructure, carbon credit markets, central bank digital currencies (CBDCs), and climate-smart agriculture, all pillars of UN Agenda 2030 and WEF’s Great Reset blueprint. Under Ruto’s leadership, Kenya has aggressively pushed forward with biometric digital IDs (Huduma Namba), partnered with big tech and UN-backed NGOs to map and control land and agricultural production, and invited global financiers to dominate its renewable energy sector, essentially selling off sovereignty under the banner of sustainability.
Nairobi is now viewed as a key African hub for the WEF’s Smart Cities model, where surveillance, cashless systems, ESG compliance, and digital dependency are being normalised. Ruto’s open courtship with WEF figures and public endorsements of global climate and economic reforms reveal him not as a champion of African sovereignty, but as a carefully selected gatekeeper for foreign control cloaked in the language of progress.
The connection between William Ruto, the World Economic Forum (WEF), and Wicknell Chivhayo is emblematic of how globalist agendas infiltrate through regional power brokers, oligarchs, and elite networks that transcend national borders. While Ruto and Chivhayo may not be directly linked in official public statements or formal partnerships, they are functionally part of the same system, one where political figures like Ruto advance the WEF’s Agenda 2030 through state policy, while operatives like Chivhayo help entrench this agenda through business, corruption, and control of key national infrastructure and influence operations.
(The WEF reports directly to King Charles)
William Ruto’s role in the WEF agenda is to act as a regional enabler, pushing digital identity, climate finance, CBDCs, and resource extraction models controlled by foreign capital under the guise of “sustainable development.” His alignment with globalist institutions has made Kenya a hub for smart tech infrastructure and surveillance capitalism. Simultaneously, in Zimbabwe, Wicknell Chivhayo represents the archetype of the local oligarch: connected to powerful politicians, handed lucrative state tenders without oversight, and operating as a front for deeper networks of foreign control and money laundering, much of which benefits from the systems Ruto and his WEF allies help normalize across the region.
Chivhayo’s role is more than just being a corrupt businessman. He helps establish the rentier economy model promoted by the WEF: where the few benefit from control over public resources, and the many remain disempowered. His operations often intersect with broader globalist interests: from energy infrastructure (aligned with "green" energy goals of the WEF) to influence over social media and celebrities (key to shaping public opinion and suppressing dissent).
The quiet connection is in the shared architecture:
both Ruto and Chivhayo are elevated and sustained by the same global financial and ideological forces that prioritize control of African resources, people, and narratives. While Ruto sets the regional tone, Chivhayo helps enforce it in Zimbabwe through elite capture, cultural manipulation, and the entrenchment of corruption, all while appearing as a “local success story,” a classic WEF tactic of laundering foreign influence through domestic actors.
If we do not act now, if we do not resist the rentier economy, the new colonialism, the theft dressed up as development, then we condemn not only ourselves but generations yet unborn to bondage. We must remember: when you sell your brother, even your buyer will not trust you. Zimbabwe's future will not be bought with Davos handshakes or Netflix board seats. It will be fought for by those willing to reject the lie, refuse the bribe, and reclaim the soul of the nation.
When enough of us refuse the lie, the machine breaks. Until then, the machine devours.
@GGTvStreams