Opinion / Columnist
Albert Nguluvhe: Loyalty, courage and dedication in the shadows of power
13 Apr 2025 at 13:17hrs | Views
In a political landscape often defined by betrayal, opportunism and shifting loyalties, Albert Nguluvhe stands out as a rare embodiment of courage, principle and unwavering dedication to duty. His story is not one of blind allegiance to individuals, but of steadfast commitment to office, country and the ideals of public service - even under the most trying circumstances.
On 15 November 2017, as Zimbabwe's long-rumoured military intervention unfolded, Nguluvhe was brutally attacked and left for dead. At around 7:30 PM, while en route to the Central Intelligence Organisation (CIO) headquarters at Chaminuka Building through KGVI Barracks (now Josiah Magama Tongogara Barracks), Nguluvhe was ambushed. He had just left a briefing with then-President Robert Mugabe, who was by then effectively under house arrest at his Blue Roof mansion.
His crime? Remaining loyal - not to a man, but to his constitutional role, his professional code, and the values he believed in. In an atmosphere where betrayal was currency, Nguluvhe refused to sell out, even when many around Mugabe had already made peace with the coup.
The irony is searing: Nguluvhe's attackers included former comrades in arms - men like the late Sibusiso Busi Moyo, once his classmate at Manama High School. They branded him a "G40" loyalist, a convenient smear, though he never belonged to any faction. His true allegiance was to the institution and the integrity of the state security apparatus.
Nguluvhe's story began long before the 2017 coup. At Form 3, he was among 400 students abducted by Zipra guerrillas in 1979 from Manama High School to join the liberation struggle. Trained in Zambia and later in Bulgaria, he became a security specialist in close protection and intelligence. His life became one of disciplined service - to Joshua Nkomo, Mugabe, Constantino Chiwenga, and Emmerson Mnangagwa - across ideological and political divides.
He survived the Rhodesian attack on Nkomo's Lusaka residence in April 1979, an assassination attempt following the downing of Air Rhodesia Viscount planes by Zipra. He lost four comrades that day but continued to serve under fire, loyal not to power, but to the mission and oath of service.
Nguluvhe joined the CIO after independence and rose to Director of National Security, navigating the treacherous waters of Zimbabwe's internal politics and security demands with professionalism and quiet fortitude.
On the night of the coup, Nguluvhe's new Land Rover Discovery 4 was wrecked, his body battered, and his dignity trampled. The soldiers who brutalised him confiscated his personal belongings and detained him in a military dungeon. He survived only because a former Zipra comrade recognised him and intervened, protesting the inhumane treatment of a fellow liberation fighter.
This violent betrayal by a state apparatus he had helped build speaks volumes. It reflects a tragic paradox in Zimbabwean public life: those most committed to integrity often pay the highest price. And yet, Nguluvhe bore it all with grace, silence and continued service.
Today, he serves as Beitbridge East MP, chairperson of the Parliamentary Portfolio Committee on Defence, Home Affairs, War Veterans and Security, and as of yesterday, Minister of State for Matabeleland South Provincial Affairs and Devolution. His ascension is not just political - it is symbolic. It affirms that quiet professionalism, loyalty, and service can still command respect, even in a system often allergic to such values.
In a world obsessed with political winners and losers, Nguluvhe reminds us that true heroism often goes uncelebrated. He is a figure forged in war, shaped in crisis, and tempered by betrayal. His loyalty was never about personalities - it was about institutions, duty, and the nation.
He represents the best of what public service should be: resilient, honourable, and principled. His story is a masterclass in the meaning of statecraft, where the true servant of the people is one who protects the republic even when its leaders falter.
Let us not romanticise the system he served - authoritarian, repressive, and flawed as it is. But within it, Nguluvhe carved out a space for integrity, proving that one can serve with dignity even when surrounded by dysfunction.
Albert Nguluvhe's story is not just a personal triumph - it is a national lesson. In an age of expedience, it is a call to remember that true loyalty lies not in sycophancy, but in principled commitment to duty, especially when the stakes are highest.
On 15 November 2017, as Zimbabwe's long-rumoured military intervention unfolded, Nguluvhe was brutally attacked and left for dead. At around 7:30 PM, while en route to the Central Intelligence Organisation (CIO) headquarters at Chaminuka Building through KGVI Barracks (now Josiah Magama Tongogara Barracks), Nguluvhe was ambushed. He had just left a briefing with then-President Robert Mugabe, who was by then effectively under house arrest at his Blue Roof mansion.
His crime? Remaining loyal - not to a man, but to his constitutional role, his professional code, and the values he believed in. In an atmosphere where betrayal was currency, Nguluvhe refused to sell out, even when many around Mugabe had already made peace with the coup.
The irony is searing: Nguluvhe's attackers included former comrades in arms - men like the late Sibusiso Busi Moyo, once his classmate at Manama High School. They branded him a "G40" loyalist, a convenient smear, though he never belonged to any faction. His true allegiance was to the institution and the integrity of the state security apparatus.
Nguluvhe's story began long before the 2017 coup. At Form 3, he was among 400 students abducted by Zipra guerrillas in 1979 from Manama High School to join the liberation struggle. Trained in Zambia and later in Bulgaria, he became a security specialist in close protection and intelligence. His life became one of disciplined service - to Joshua Nkomo, Mugabe, Constantino Chiwenga, and Emmerson Mnangagwa - across ideological and political divides.
He survived the Rhodesian attack on Nkomo's Lusaka residence in April 1979, an assassination attempt following the downing of Air Rhodesia Viscount planes by Zipra. He lost four comrades that day but continued to serve under fire, loyal not to power, but to the mission and oath of service.
Nguluvhe joined the CIO after independence and rose to Director of National Security, navigating the treacherous waters of Zimbabwe's internal politics and security demands with professionalism and quiet fortitude.
On the night of the coup, Nguluvhe's new Land Rover Discovery 4 was wrecked, his body battered, and his dignity trampled. The soldiers who brutalised him confiscated his personal belongings and detained him in a military dungeon. He survived only because a former Zipra comrade recognised him and intervened, protesting the inhumane treatment of a fellow liberation fighter.
This violent betrayal by a state apparatus he had helped build speaks volumes. It reflects a tragic paradox in Zimbabwean public life: those most committed to integrity often pay the highest price. And yet, Nguluvhe bore it all with grace, silence and continued service.
Today, he serves as Beitbridge East MP, chairperson of the Parliamentary Portfolio Committee on Defence, Home Affairs, War Veterans and Security, and as of yesterday, Minister of State for Matabeleland South Provincial Affairs and Devolution. His ascension is not just political - it is symbolic. It affirms that quiet professionalism, loyalty, and service can still command respect, even in a system often allergic to such values.
In a world obsessed with political winners and losers, Nguluvhe reminds us that true heroism often goes uncelebrated. He is a figure forged in war, shaped in crisis, and tempered by betrayal. His loyalty was never about personalities - it was about institutions, duty, and the nation.
He represents the best of what public service should be: resilient, honourable, and principled. His story is a masterclass in the meaning of statecraft, where the true servant of the people is one who protects the republic even when its leaders falter.
Let us not romanticise the system he served - authoritarian, repressive, and flawed as it is. But within it, Nguluvhe carved out a space for integrity, proving that one can serve with dignity even when surrounded by dysfunction.
Albert Nguluvhe's story is not just a personal triumph - it is a national lesson. In an age of expedience, it is a call to remember that true loyalty lies not in sycophancy, but in principled commitment to duty, especially when the stakes are highest.
Source - online
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