Business realities bite

Last Friday’s explosive meeting between the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe (RBZ) and the Zimbabwe National Chamber of Commerce (ZNCC) was not a routine policy dialogue—it was a breaking point.
What unfolded behind closed doors was a blunt indictment of Zimbabwe’s economic strategy, delivered by a private sector that has had enough of smoke and mirrors.
The message from business was unequivocal: the ZiG currency is not working, liquidity is a mirage, credit has become a luxury, and current monetary policies are slowly strangling the economy.
What they got in return was a stone-faced central bank, clinging to doctrine over dialogue, and defending failures as strategy.
The central issue is the credibility crisis surrounding the ZiG. Introduced as the flagship of Zimbabwe’s dedollarisation drive, it has instead become a currency with no real function. In urban supermarkets, rural stores, and across the informal sector—the very engine of Zimbabwe’s economy—the ZiG is either sidelined or rejected outright.
Over 90% of transactions are conducted in US dollars, yet the RBZ continues to insist that ZiG adoption is on course.
RBZ Governor Dr. John Mushayavanhu insisted during the meeting that the central bank would stay the course, citing inflation stability and reserve accumulation as proof of progress. But stability means nothing when the currency itself is irrelevant. Zimbabweans are not using the ZiG because they cannot afford to trust it. That’s not a perception issue—it’s a lived experience issue.
Worse still, while the RBZ boasts of ZWG16bn in bank deposits, businesses continue to struggle to access working capital. Interest rates of up to 47% are beyond punitive—they are business killers.
Small and medium enterprises, the backbone of Zimbabwe’s economy, have been effectively locked out of the credit market.
The Targeted Finance Facility, supposedly designed to solve this, remains underutilised. Why? Because banks, facing impossible lending conditions, won’t release the funds.
Instead of acknowledging these failures, the RBZ pointed fingers at borrowers’ “credit unworthiness”—a damning dismissal of a sector fighting to survive.
Meanwhile, the policy contradictions continue to pile up.
The belated repeal of SI 81A, which imposed suffocating exchange controls, was welcomed by business—but the damage had already been done. Exporters, who are still forced to surrender hard currency at below-market rates, are rightly furious.
The RBZ’s justification? It’s not a tax, just policy. But to exporters haemorrhaging value, it feels like extortion.
And as if the chaos of policy mismatches wasn’t enough, the business community now faces a new threat: counterfeit ZiG notes flooding the market.
The RBZ’s solution? Go digital.
But pushing digital payments in a market where confidence in the currency is non-existent—and where power outages are routine—borders on tone-deaf.
What Friday’s meeting exposed is a dangerous rift: one side pleading for pragmatism, the other entrenched in ideology.
The business sector has done its part—it has engaged, submitted papers, presented data, and shown patience. But patience has limits. What Zimbabwe needs now is a central bank that listens, learns, and adapts.
The RBZ cannot claim victory while the economy limps. It cannot declare stability when its own currency is rejected in everyday life. And it cannot expect businesses to power economic growth while simultaneously choking them of credit, freedom, and trust.
There is still time to change course.
But change requires humility.
Governor Mushayavanhu and his team must realise that monetary policy does not exist in a vacuum. It must serve the real economy—not abstract targets. Business is not the enemy; it is the engine of recovery. But that engine is stalling.
And if the RBZ won’t refuel it, it must at least stop throwing sand in the gears.
The ZiG cannot be forced into relevance. It must be earned.