Zimbabwe’s decades-long ambition to revive Shabanie and Mashaba Mines (SMM), once Africa’s largest asbestos operation, now resembles a national mirage—an illusion perpetuated by investor promises, policy optimism, and political posturing.
By Rudairo Mapuranga
Despite numerous announcements suggesting imminent reopening, the recent statement by Government spokesperson Nick Mangwana paints a more sobering picture: the reopening of these asbestos giants is little more than a pipe dream.
On April 22, 2025, Mangwana took to social media to clarify the long-standing speculation over the revival of SMM.
“As for Shabanie and Mashaba Mine, it’s the same thing of an investor failing to secure funding, after making promises and signing on employees as well as flighting tenders for equipment,” he wrote. “I apologise for the delay and regret not updating you sooner.”
This admission strikes at the heart of the government’s narrative that SMM’s revival was within reach. For years, the state-controlled narrative promised jobs, economic activity, and the return of Zvishavane and Mashava to their former industrial glory. But Mangwana’s comments expose what workers, community leaders, and mining experts have long feared: that the asbestos mines remain mothballed with no viable path to revival.
From Giant to Ghost
Once employing over 5,000 workers and exporting asbestos globally, SMM’s decline began in the early 2000s after years of underinvestment and poor management. The company was placed under the Reconstruction of State-Indebted Insolvent Companies Act in 2004, following accusations of mismanagement under businessman Mutumwa Mawere. Since then, numerous efforts have been made to resuscitate operations, with government-appointed administrators promising a turnaround. None have materialised.
In 2020 and again in 2023, government-aligned media reported “imminent” reopenings, fueled by claims that funding had been secured and machinery procured. These reports included images of equipment being moved to the sites and touted job adverts for plant workers. Most recently, in late 2023, it was claimed that King Mine in Mashava required just US$15 million to commence the extraction of chrysotile asbestos. Yet, as of May 2025, there is still no sign of active production.
Nick Mangwana’s update confirms that all these announcements were premature or, at worst, misleading.
The Problem with Asbestos
The global decline in asbestos demand presents a major barrier to attracting capital. While Zimbabwe remains one of the few countries with vast deposits of chrysotile asbestos, most of the developed world has banned its use due to health concerns, including its link to lung cancer and mesothelioma. This makes Zimbabwe’s product a tough sell on international markets.
Although some developing countries still allow limited asbestos use, international scrutiny and environmental regulations have shrunk the buyer base. “Finding an investor willing to bankroll a multimillion-dollar operation in a dying industry is a tough call,” said an economist familiar with the SMM case. “The return on investment is highly uncertain.”
Empty Promises, Broken Spirits
Perhaps the most damaging part of the SMM saga is the toll it has taken on the workers and communities in Zvishavane and Mashava. Former employees, some of whom were re-hired on contract in anticipation of a reopening that never came, remain in limbo. Many have gone years without pay, with some receiving minimal allowances that barely cover transportation.
In 2023, the Zimbabwe Diamond and Allied Minerals Workers Union (ZDAMWU) said that workers had not only been misled but also used as pawns in a political chess game.
“We were made to believe that SMM was coming back. Tenders were flighted. Some were even made to report for work. But to date, nothing has happened,” said a ZIDAMWU representative at the time.
What’s Next for SMM?
Without a clear roadmap, the future of Shabanie and Mashaba Mines remains bleak. Even the much-publicised plans to convert the mines into tourist sites or for agricultural use have yet to materialise. Meanwhile, the infrastructure, once a symbol of Zimbabwe’s mining prowess, continues to deteriorate. Rusting conveyors, idle headgear, and collapsing housing blocks are now relics of what was once a booming industrial hub.
Investors have come and gone, and while some claimed to have capital, most lacked the financial muscle or will to resuscitate such a capital-intensive and controversial operation. With Mangwana’s admission, it is clear that the government is beginning to acknowledge the realities the mining community has long understood.
Lessons for the Future
The SMM episode offers critical lessons for Zimbabwe’s broader mining and economic policy:
Due Diligence over PR: Announcing deals before contracts are signed and funds are secured undermines public trust. Authorities must base announcements on verifiable financial commitments, not wishful thinking.
Post-Asbestos Strategy Needed: Zimbabwe must begin serious discussions on how to transition SMM and Mashava into post-asbestos futures—be it through lithium exploration, agro-industrial zoning, or renewable energy hubs.
Support for Affected Communities: Thousands of former mineworkers still live in mine-owned housing, with no access to pensions or medical care. A structured welfare and retraining program is urgently needed.
Asbestos Policy Review: With shifting global regulations, Zimbabwe should review its stance on asbestos and explore more sustainable mineral ventures in regions like Zvishavane and Mashava.
The Verdict: Not Anytime Soon
In light of Mangwana’s candid remarks and years of false starts, the dream of reopening Shabanie and Mashaba Mines is now best described as a long-abandoned vision—a pipe dream with little substance and no secure investment. For communities that once pinned their hopes on a return to work, it is another chapter of broken promises.
Unless there is a radical change in strategy, supported by clear funding and a viable business case, SMM will remain a mausoleum of Zimbabwe’s failed state-owned mining ambitions—quiet, crumbling, and overrun by weeds.
As one worker put it in 2023: “We no longer believe them. If it happens, we’ll believe it when we see smoke from the chimneys again.”
But for now, the chimneys stand silent, and so do the dreams.
