WE, in the village, have an unstated but deeply entrenched principle of ubuntu — “I am because we are.” It is a concept that underscores the interconnectedness of our humanity and the belief that collective well-being is a shared responsibility. When the Government recently called upon citizens to provide beds for 63 identified drug rehabilitation and livelihood centres, it is not merely an appeal for material contributions. It is a clarion call for the affi rmation of our collective humanity. To understand why this initiative is critical, one must situate it within the broader social context. Substance abuse not just in Zimbabwe but in Africa, once seen as a marginal issue, has grown into a formidable challenge. It has become both a symptom and a cause of socio-economic dislocation, touching every stratum of society. The call for beds is not simply about furniture; it is a step towards reclaiming lives, restoring dignity and reinforcing the community fabric.

The rise of substance abuse is closely linked to urbanisation, economic stagnation wrought by the illegal sanctions and the erosion of traditional social safety nets. In many African contexts, the extended family once played a critical role in off ering support to vulnerable individuals. Today, as urban migration fractures these familial ties, many young people are left to navigate the challenges of modernity alone. Unfortunately, drugs become both a coping mechanism and an escape.

In this context, the 63 centres identifi ed for rehabilitation represent more than just buildings; they are institutional acknowledgments of a problem that cannot be ignored. Addiction is no longer a moral failing but a public health issue demanding systemic intervention. However, these facilities, which should symbolise hope, if they lack basic amenities such as hospital beds, they risk becoming places of despair rather than recovery. In African cosmology, objects often carry symbolic weight beyond their physical utility. A bed, in this context, is more than just a place to sleep. It represents rest, renewal, and stability — elements crucial for the healing process. In a rehabilitation centre, the presence of a bed communicates care and dignity. It says to the patient: “You matter. Your recovery is important.”

Conversely, the absence of such a fundamental item sends an unspoken but clear message of neglect and marginalisation. For patients grappling with the psychological and physical toll of addiction, a bed can make the diff erence between relapse and recovery. It is a physical space where the body begins to heal and the mind starts to reorganise itself, preparing for the arduous journey ahead. The call to provide beds is a call to reinvigorate the principle of collective responsibility that has long defi ned African societies. Traditionally, when a crisis arose — be it a famine, confl ict or illness — it was not seen as the problem of an individual or family. The community came together to pool resources, skills and labour to fi nd a solution. Today, we are faced with a crisis of addiction.

It is a crisis that transcends individual households and communities, demanding a collective response. But as our societies modernise, the values that once drove communal action are increasingly being supplanted by individualism and apathy. The call for beds challenges us to resist this trend and re-embrace the ethos of shared responsibility. This responsibility is not confi ned to material contributions. It includes raising awareness about addiction and dismantling the stigma that often prevents individuals from seeking help.

In this sense, providing a bed is both a practical and symbolic act — it is an investment in the health and resilience of our collective future. Substance abuse is not merely a personal tragedy; it is a drain on national resources and a hindrance to socio-economic development.

The costs associated with untreated addiction are staggering —ranging from increased healthcare expenditures and law enforcement burdens to lost productivity. Investing in rehabilitation centres, therefore, is not just a moral imperative; it is an economic necessity. By providing the beds and other essential resources needed for these facilities to function eff ectively, we are creating pathways for individuals to re-enter society as productive members. Moreover, successful rehabilitation reduces the intergenerational transmission of poverty.

Many addicts are young people — potentially the most economically active segment of the population. Their recovery has a multiplier eff ect, benefiting not just themselves but their families and communities. While the Government’s identifi cation of 63 centres is commendable, it is only a starting point. Civil society also has a crucial role to play. Community-based organisations, faith groups, and private entities must step in to complement Government efforts. For instance, church groups can mobilise congregations to contribute beds or other resources. Private businesses can fund-raise or donate directly. Community leaders can use their infl uence to destigmatise addiction and encourage families to seek help for their loved ones. Despite the moral clarity of the call, several challenges hinder collective action. Chief among them is stigma.

In many African societies, addiction is still viewed through a lens of shame and moral failure. This perception isolates addicts and discourages families from seeking help, perpetuating the cycle of addiction. I view the call for beds as more than an isolated appeal. It is an opportunity to reawaken the values of ubuntu that have sustained our societies for generations. It is a chance to remind ourselves that the health of one is connected to the health of all. We can respond to this call in many ways.

Some of us may have the means to donate beds directly. Others may be able to contribute time, skills or advocacy. The point is to act, to do something that contributes to the greater good. In answering this call, we are not just helping those in rehabilitation centres. We are sending a powerful message about the kind of society we want to build — a society that values every individual, no matter their struggles. The fi ght against addiction is not a sprint; it is a marathon. It requires patience, resources, and above all, a commitment to the collective good. The call for beds may seem like a small step, but it is a vital one. It is a reminder that change often begins with the simplest acts of compassion.

Let us heed this call with the urgency it deserves. Let us build these centres, brick by brick, until they become true sanctuaries of healing. Let us embody the spirit of ubuntu, knowing that in lifting others, we lift ourselves. The road to recovery is long, but together, we can walk it — one step, one bed and one life at a time.

Businessman Tawanda Chenana is also a philanthropist and Secretary for Lands for ZANUPF Mashonaland East Province.