Beyond Mashonaland and Matabeleland: Renaming for Unity in a Post-Colonial Zimbabwe

More than four decades after independence, Zimbabwe still carries scars of colonial rule not only in its economy and land ownership patterns, but also in its toponyms, the names of provinces, districts, towns, and villages. Among the most enduring symbols of colonial manipulation are the provincial names Matabeleland, Mashonaland, and Manicaland. These names, though normalised in our daily vocabulary, are deeply embedded in the colonial project of divide and rule, a strategy perfected by the British to fracture African societies along ethnic, tribal, and regional lines.

As Zimbabwe strives towards Vision 2030, a modern, united, and prosperous upper-middle-income society, the persistence of names that perpetuate tribal identities and colonial-era divisions undermines national cohesion. Why should we, in a sovereign republic, continue to organise ourselves according to colonial constructs that served to weaken us? It is time to boldly reconsider our provincial names and adopt new ones that reflect the aspirations of a united, independent Zimbabwe.

Colonialism was never merely about the conquest of land; it was about the conquest of memory, culture, and identity. By renaming African territories, colonisers imposed their worldview while simultaneously fragmenting indigenous societies. The British, like their European counterparts, were masters of ethnographic manipulation. They catalogued ethnic groups, exaggerated their differences, and then institutionalised these divisions in administration and governance. In Zimbabwe, the names Mashonaland, Matabeleland, and Manicaland were not neutral geographic markers. They were political instruments designed to reinforce tribal identities as separate and antagonistic, to create competition for recognition, resources, and political power, and to prevent Africans from uniting against the colonial state. Thus, what might seem today as “innocent names” are colonial legacies that perpetuate tribal consciousness and regionalism, the very opposite of the Pan-Africanist spirit that guided our liberation struggle.

The name “Matabeleland” derives from the colonial mispronunciation of “amaNdebele.” The very act of labelling the entire southwestern region as “Matabeleland” was a colonial attempt to brand it exclusively as Ndebele territory, disregarding the presence of other ethnic groups such as the Kalanga, Tonga, Venda, and Sotho. The effect has been the tribalisation of an entire province, feeding perceptions of exclusivity and reinforcing the idea of a homogenous Ndebele region. Similarly, “Mashonaland” was coined by the British to describe the territories dominated by various Shona-speaking peoples. Yet, the Shona themselves are not a monolith; they comprise multiple subgroups such as the Zezuru, Karanga, Manyika, and Korekore. By lumping these diverse peoples under a single provincial label, colonial administrators both flattened cultural diversity and created the impression of a “Shona majority” contrasted against the “Ndebele minority.” This binary has haunted Zimbabwean politics since independence. In the same vein, “Manicaland” originates from “Manyika,” one of the Shona subgroups. By elevating this subgroup into a provincial name, colonial authorities reinforced intra-Shona tribalism, privileging one subgroup’s identity over others. In all these cases, provincial naming created an artificial cartography of ethnicity, setting the stage for suspicion, competition, and regional rivalries.

Sceptics might dismiss the renaming of provinces as cosmetic or symbolic. Yet symbols matter deeply in nation-building. Names shape perceptions, reinforce identities, and determine how communities imagine themselves about the state. To continue with colonial tribal labels is to keep alive the fractures that colonisers planted in our midst. Renaming provinces would reclaim Zimbabwean sovereignty over memory and identity, promote unity by breaking away from divisive tribal categories, reflect our heritage by drawing from indigenous values, heroes, and geography rather than colonial constructs, and educate future generations that Zimbabwe is one nation, not a collection of tribal enclaves. Just as we renamed Salisbury to Harare, Gwelo to Gweru, and Fort Victoria to Masvingo, so too must we complete the project of renaming our provinces.

Zimbabwe would not be alone in this endeavour. Across Africa, nations have reclaimed their dignity by renaming spaces that reflected colonial or divisive legacies. Ghana, at independence in 1957, discarded the colonial “Gold Coast” and reclaimed the grandeur of the ancient Ghana Empire, inspiring Pan-African pride. Burkina Faso, under Thomas Sankara in 1984, shed the colonial name “Upper Volta” and became the “Land of Upright People,” a powerful declaration of unity and dignity. Tanzania emerged from the union of Tanganyika and Zanzibar in 1964, creating a new name that symbolised shared destiny. More recently, in 2018, King Mswati III restored Swaziland’s pre-colonial identity by renaming it Eswatini, rejecting colonial distortions. Côte d’Ivoire, too, has insisted on its rightful name rather than the anglicised “Ivory Coast,” asserting sovereignty even in the subtleties of international usage. These examples show that renaming is not trivial; it is a serious act of political imagination.

Renaming Zimbabwe’s provinces must be approached with care, inclusivity, and vision. The goal is not to erase cultural diversity but to transcend colonial tribalisation. New names should draw from geography, such as rivers, mountains, valleys, and landmarks, or celebrate heroes of the liberation struggle, or reflect values of unity and independence. Thus, Matabeleland North and South could be renamed after natural features such as the Zambezi or Hwange, or after liberation icons like Lobengula or Joshua Nkomo. The Mashonaland provinces could adopt names like Mazowe, Save, or Great Dyke, or honour national heroes such as Herbert Chitepo or Simon Muzenda. Manicaland could be reimagined as Chimanimani Province or Mutare Province, grounding identity in geography rather than a subgroup. Such names would celebrate shared spaces and collective heroes, rather than reify tribal identities.

Undoubtedly, renaming will encounter resistance. Some will argue that provincial names have become entrenched and changing them risks confusion or unnecessary expense. Others will fear that renaming erases tribal pride. These concerns are valid, but must be balanced against the greater need for unity. Renaming is not about denying cultural identities — Shona, Ndebele, Manyika, or Kalanga — but about preventing colonial constructs from dictating our political geography. Cultural pride can and must be expressed in literature, music, and cultural institutions, but provincial names — the official map of the nation — must project unity, not division.

Vision 2030 aims to transform Zimbabwe into a prosperous, modern, and united upper-middle-income economy. Unity is a precondition for such development. Divisions, whether real or imagined, weaken the nation’s capacity to mobilise its people for progress. By renaming provinces, Zimbabwe would send a powerful message: we are one people, with one destiny. Moreover, in an era of Education 5.0 and heritage-based education, renaming would provide a practical teaching moment. It would invite students, scholars, and communities to reflect on history, interrogate colonial legacies, and imagine a new Zimbabwe grounded in its heritage and values.

Zimbabwe’s liberation was not merely a war for land; it was a war for dignity, identity, and sovereignty. To remain saddled with provincial names that perpetuate colonial tribal divisions is to betray that struggle. Renaming is not cosmetic — it is revolutionary. In the words of Kwame Nkrumah, “We must rid ourselves of the colonial mentality, for as long as we remain captives of colonial thought, we are not truly free.” It is time Zimbabwe rises above the legacies of divide and rule. Mashonaland, Matabeleland, and Manicaland must give way to new names that reflect a united, independent Zimbabwe. Only then can we walk confidently into the future as one people, bound not by colonial categories, but by the shared dream of a sovereign and prosperous nation.