Dynamos FC’s sluggish start to their 2026 Castle Lager Premier Soccer League preparations may be less about administrative disarray and more about a high-stakes political and corporate manoeuvre unfolding behind the scenes.
Far from being a simple sponsorship revival, emerging details suggest that the proposed return of Sakunda Holdings—widely regarded as closely aligned to President Emmerson Mnangagwa—could be part of a broader strategy to consolidate control over Zimbabwe’s most popular football institution under politically connected interests.
While club insiders have attempted to project the development as a “ray of hope” for the cash-strapped Glamour Boys, critics argue that the move raises serious questions about autonomy, transparency, and the creeping politicisation of sport.
Dynamos have effectively been operating on financial life support for several seasons, surviving hand-to-mouth after Sakunda Holdings dramatically scaled down its sponsorship to cover little more than player salaries. The reduction plunged the Harare giants into chronic instability, culminating in last season’s humiliating relegation scare that was only resolved on the final day of the campaign.
Rather than addressing structural weaknesses, governance failures, and declining commercial appeal, the club now appears poised to return to the same benefactor whose withdrawal precipitated much of its decline.
Sources close to the negotiations claim a proposed sponsorship package valued at approximately US$2.5 million per year is being discussed—an eye-catching figure in a league where most clubs struggle to raise basic operational budgets.
However, the scale of the proposed funding has fuelled speculation that the deal may extend well beyond shirt branding and salary support. Observers fear the arrangement could amount to a soft takeover, effectively placing Dynamos under the influence of a politically connected corporate entity with deep ties to the ruling elite.
The concerns intensified after Sakunda Holdings reportedly presented Dynamos board chairman Bernard Marriot-Lusengo with a 2025 Toyota Fortuner, a gesture critics view as emblematic of blurred lines between sponsorship, patronage, and personal inducement.
The reported willingness by Sakunda Holdings to separately bankroll Dynamos’ CAF Confederation Cup campaign has also drawn scrutiny. While framed as support for continental competitiveness, detractors argue that African football platforms are increasingly being used for political image management rather than genuine sporting development.
Dynamos’ previous withdrawal from continental competition, despite qualifying, exposed the club’s financial fragility. That such participation now hinges on a politically linked sponsor only reinforces fears that sporting decisions are being subordinated to elite interests.
A Familiar Pattern in Zimbabwean Football
Sakunda Holdings’ history with Dynamos and Highlanders between 2021 and 2023 provided temporary financial relief but failed to build sustainable club models. When the sponsorship deal expired, neither club was left structurally stronger, commercially diversified, or institutionally independent.
Instead, both giants were left vulnerable, effectively compelled to return to the same benefactor out of desperation rather than strategy.
This dependency model has become a recurring theme in Zimbabwean football—where clubs oscillate between brief financial comfort and prolonged crisis, all while governance reforms are postponed indefinitely.
More Sponsors, Same Questions
Dynamos’ reported re-engagement with Gold Leaf Tobacco, Access Finance, and kit manufacturer 90 Minutes has done little to ease concerns. Critics argue that stacking multiple sponsors without a clear governance framework only deepens opacity.
The absence of a publicly articulated commercial strategy, audited financial disclosures, or supporter consultation suggests the club is being reshaped behind closed doors, with fans reduced to spectators in decisions that affect the institution’s future.
New club chairman Vincent Chawonza’s reluctance to discuss ongoing negotiations has further fuelled suspicion.
“We need to work quietly,” he said—remarks that have been interpreted by sceptics as an admission that key decisions are being made away from public scrutiny.
For a club with Dynamos’ national following and symbolic significance, such secrecy is increasingly viewed as unacceptable.
At its core, the unfolding saga reflects a broader issue: the growing entanglement of Zimbabwean sport with political and corporate power. Football clubs, once community institutions, are increasingly treated as strategic assets—tools for influence, loyalty-building, and elite branding.
Dynamos’ desperate need for funding has made them particularly vulnerable to such dynamics.
While supporters may be tempted to welcome any financial lifeline after years of decline, the looming Sakunda return is far from an unqualified blessing. Without safeguards, transparency, and genuine reform, the sponsorship risks entrenching Dynamos as a politically dependent entity, rather than restoring it as a proud, autonomous football giant.
The question is no longer whether Dynamos can afford to accept Sakunda Holdings’ return—but whether they can afford the long-term cost of doing so.
In Zimbabwean football, money rarely comes without strings. And for Dynamos, those strings may now be tightening.
