By Tendai Makaripe
On a moonless night outside Chivi, a small group of men moves quietly through mopane scrub, led by dogs trained to follow the faint claw marks of a pangolin.
When they find one, the animal curls into a tight ball.
To some in the village, this is a sacred encounter to be reported to traditional leaders.
To others, it is an opportunity: a live pangolin that can be turned into U.S. dollars through a WhatsApp connection and a waiting car from town.
In parts of rural Zimbabwe, old beliefs and new hustles now meet on the back of one of the country’s most strictly protected animals.
Temminck’s ground pangolin, Zimbabwe’s only pangolin species, has long been wrapped in mystery.
In the Jindwi dialect, it is called harakabvuka – “something very rare.”
Many elders still teach that finding a pangolin brings good fortune and that killing one invites misfortune.
At the same time, urban myths and cross-border demand have created a quiet market in scales and live animals for rituals, status and export.
That collision of belief, poverty and law now shapes whether pangolins survive.
A collision of belief, desperation and law
All eight pangolin species – four in Africa and four in Asia – are threatened with extinction.
International trade is banned under CITES, but seizures across Africa and Asia show continuing demand.
In 2016, a United Nations Environment Programme–INTERPOL assessment on environmental crime warned that illegal wildlife trade, including pangolins, ranks among the world’s largest criminal economies. Zimbabwe is often praised as a regional leader on enforcement: pangolins are listed as “specially protected” under the Parks and Wildlife Act, and anyone convicted of hunting, possessing or selling one faces a mandatory minimum nine-year prison term, with longer sentences for repeat offenders.
Court records and Zimbabwe Parks and Wildlife Management Authority (ZimParks) officials confirm that authorities arrested 84 poachers in 2015 and 114 in 2016; nearly half received the minimum sentence.
Former prosecutor Zororo Nkomo said: “Claims that cultural beliefs justify possession have been rejected, with magistrates stressing that customary practices of handing pangolins to chiefs are a shield for protection, not a loophole for trade.”
Yet belief-based demand has not disappeared.
In districts such as Masvingo, Gokwe, and parts of Matabeleland, villagers, police, and investigators describe the same pattern: a neighbour or small-time trader arrives with hushed offers, saying traditional clients in towns or across the border will pay “good money” for a pangolin needed for rituals to secure protection, business success or political power.
“It is rarely a cartel at the beginning,” said a ZimParks investigator, who asked not to be named because he is not authorised to speak publicly.
“It starts with someone who knows a healer or a buyer, and someone who knows how to find the animal. By the time it reaches the people with real money, the pangolin has passed through several hands.”
The anatomy of a myth
In eastern Zimbabwe’s Zimunya communal lands, traditional leaders have long taught that the pangolin is a messenger from the spirits.
“A person who finds one must inform the chief, who then ensures the animal’s safe release; killing it attracts both spiritual punishment and customary sanctions, such as a fine in cattle,” said Chief Christopher Zimunya.
Social anthropologist Martin Walsh described how some African societies believe pangolins drop from the sky, sent by ancestors.
“The individual ‘chosen’ by the pangolin must participate in rituals akin to twin‑birth ceremonies, where singing and dancing mark the arrival of good rains,” said Walsh.
Added Headman Chikwakwa from Goromonzi: “Some see the pangolin as a central emblem of healing for people unable to bear children; its solitary baby, upright gait and ‘dignity’ when attacked make it seem strangely humane.
In Goromonzi’s Musonza kraal, village elder, Elijah Ngwarati said stories of quick cash now compete with such teachings.
“People hear that someone in town or from outside the country can pay a few hundred or a thousand U.S. dollars,” he said.
“But many still fear that if you kill a pangolin, you are inviting trouble into your home. That belief has stopped some from being used by middlemen.”
International research suggests myths can cut both ways.
A 2016 review by the Environmental Investigation Agency found that traditional beliefs, which once protected pangolins, are being repurposed to justify their use in charms and ceremonies, especially when combined with poverty and perceptions that enforcement can be evaded.
In Zimbabwe, conservationists and traditional leaders warn that when hardship bites – school fees, medical bills, drought – spiritual fear alone does not always outweigh the promise of cash.
That tension between taboo and survival sits at the heart of the trade.
In Marondera, herbalist Sekuru Absalom Runesu said he refuses to deal in pangolin parts.
“Healers should not be lawbreakers. We are there to make people’s lives easier through legal means,” he said.
Others still ask for a live animal or a pinch of scales during ceremonies; among apostolic and Pentecostal groups, mixing scales with herbs is thought to seal financial success.
On the front line of rescue
When pangolins are intercepted, they often bear the marks of that underground economy.
Rangers and police routinely find animals wired in sacks, hidden under seats or stashed without food or water.
Temminck’s pangolins are sensitive; stress and dehydration can quickly become fatal.
Harare-based Tikki Hywood Foundation, which works closely with ZimParks, runs an intensive rehabilitation programme for rescued pangolins.
Founder Lisa Hywood said each animal requires night walks so it can forage naturally, careful weighing, veterinary care and gradual release when strong enough.
“It is an incredibly time-consuming process,” she said.
“You carry them as they feed, monitor their weight, and rehydrate them. Some do not make it. But for those that do, you are literally walking a species back from the edge.”
Each successful case represents more than sentiment.
It is evidence that strong law enforcement, backed by specialist care, can reverse some of the damage done by trafficking.
What works – and what still fails
Experts say Zimbabwe’s relative success rests on strong laws, active enforcement, partnerships with NGOs and communities that still see pangolins as sacred.
But gaps remain where belief, poverty and profit intersect.
“Trials can be slow, and if corruption creeps in anywhere in the chain, it undoes months of work,” said conservationist and former legislator Oliver Mutasa.
“We also have to remember that as long as a pangolin is worth more trafficked than alive to a poor household, someone will be tempted.”
Community intelligence has proven effective.
Anonymous tip-offs from villagers who reject the trade have led to arrests and live recoveries.
Chiefs who publicly condemn pangolin killing and enforce customary penalties reinforce both the law and spiritual deterrents. Pastors and faith leaders who preach against cruelty challenge narratives that frame killing a pangolin as a route to success.
Hywood and other advocates argue that these moral and spiritual messages must be backed by livelihoods.
“If you ask a person not to hunt pangolins, you must also show them another way to survive,” she said.
“Alternatives – from small livestock to climate-smart agriculture – reduce the power of the quick-cash offer.”
Toward a sharper choice
As dawn breaks in Chivi, the imagined hunters walk back through the trees, empty-handed because someone spoke up or thought twice.
That is the fragile victory on which Zimbabwe’s pangolins depend.
Pangolins in Zimbabwe now stand where myth, survival and law collide. They are at once symbols of hope and commodities of greed.
The choice facing communities, courts and policymakers is whether the promise of scales is defined by what they can fetch on the black market, or by the value of keeping a rare, culturally revered animal alive.
If belief can be reclaimed, if law is applied fairly, and if poverty is tackled with real options, the whisper that a pangolin can “open money” may yet be replaced by a stronger conviction: that protecting a species is itself a blessing – and a measure of a nation’s integrity.
