Inside a white tent nestled in the rural expanse of northeastern Zimbabwe, the air is thick with anticipation and hope. About two dozen girls, their shoes left at the entrance, settle onto mattresses circling a wooden fireplace. Their voices rise in unison, chanting, "it's so nice to be here," a simple phrase that signals the start of something profound. This is Nhanga—a word that once meant a girl’s bedroom, a space where adolescent girls were groomed for marriage. Today, it’s being reimagined as a vibrant, peer-led movement fighting against child marriage and for gender equality in Zimbabwe and beyond.
On October 15, 2025, this gathering was more than a meeting; it was a declaration of intent. The girls, ranging from as young as five to women over 35, dove into discussions on sexuality, child marriage, teen pregnancy, gender bias, education, economic empowerment, and the law. Nothing was off-limits. According to the Associated Press, the tent’s warmth and the girls’ camaraderie created a safe space where, as 18-year-old Anita Razo put it, "every girl feels free." Razo, who joined Nhanga at 14, now serves as a mentor, guiding younger girls through the maze of challenges they face.
The Nhanga tradition has deep roots. In the past, it was a female-only room in a thatched hut, where girls learned obedience, how to please husbands, and the moral codes of a patriarchal society. "The new Nhanga is a cultural innovation dealing with modern problems," explained Nokutenda Magama, a programs officer with the Rozaria Memorial Trust, the nonprofit behind the revival. Now, instead of reinforcing old norms, Nhanga flips the script—empowering girls to question, to learn, and to lead.
The Rozaria Memorial Trust, founded in 2007 by Nyaradzai Gumbonzvanda in honor of her mother (who herself was married at 13), organizes these gatherings by age group. Sessions aren’t just talk; they include practical skills like poultry raising, farming, and soap making. Sometimes, elders and even senior government officials join, bridging generations and ensuring that mentorship flows both ways. The trust’s efforts have helped transform Nhanga from a local tradition into a movement with international reach.
But the stakes are high. Child marriage remains a significant issue in Zimbabwe. According to UNICEF, one in three girls in the country marries before turning 18—a statistic the agency calls "a national emergency demanding urgent action." The problem isn’t confined to Zimbabwe. Across East and southern Africa, child marriage rates soar above 40%, with Niger holding the grim record at 76%—the highest globally. Despite laws that outlaw child marriage and recent court decisions overturning abortion restrictions for girls under 18, poverty, weak enforcement, and deeply ingrained cultural and religious customs keep the practice alive.
For some, like Samantha Chidodo, the Nhanga revival offered a lifeline. Now 26 and finishing law school, Chidodo was forced into an abusive marriage at 17 to a man nearly a decade her senior. "All I wanted was to play and think of my future. Suddenly I had to be a mother and wife," she recalled at a recent camp, which blended tent sessions with a "girls and goals" soccer tournament. Her story is harrowing: "I didn’t even know what to do. I would be dead asleep, oblivious that I needed to breastfeed." A neighbor would step in to care for her crying baby, feeding him and returning him to the sleeping teen mother. After two years, Chidodo found the courage to leave, enduring stigma as neighbors warned others not to associate with her. With support from Rozaria Memorial Trust, she returned to school and became one of the movement’s pioneers. "Initially we were only about 20 girls. Almost 90% of us did well, some went to college, others started projects. The community began to see our power, and encouraged their children to join," Chidodo said. "Nhanga is now seen as cool."
The movement’s growth has been remarkable. Today, more than 200 girls in Chidodo’s village participate in Nhanga sessions. The model has been adopted by many schools across Zimbabwe and has spread to Zambia and Sierra Leone, even reaching African Union and United Nations forums. This expansion is driven not just by the girls themselves, but also by the involvement of local leaders. Chiefs and village heads, often the custodians of tradition, now enforce rules against early marriage. As reported by Reuters, offenders must pay a cow—a valuable asset—held in trust for the girl’s education, and are reported to the police. "This ensures she can return to school without financial worries," noted local headman Xmas Savanhu. Chiefs also work with NGOs to help young mothers resume their studies, a crucial step in breaking the cycle of poverty and early marriage.
Yet, progress is uneven. "The gap that we have lies with the adults. They view pregnancy or child marriage as indiscipline so they think the girls should be punished," observed Enet Tini, a teacher and girls’ mentor whose school adopted the Nhanga model. A government policy now allows girls to return to school after giving birth, but many parents remain reluctant, burdened by stigma and outdated beliefs. The challenge, Tini said, is to change adult attitudes while empowering girls to lead the charge within their communities.
For advocates like Nyaradzai Gumbonzvanda, the stakes are nothing less than the future of Africa’s girls. "We are talking about rape and sexual exploitation and breaking the future of our little children," she told BBC. "Laws are important … but it is critically essential to reach to the girls themselves, to do the shift in the social norms in our communities." Gumbonzvanda’s vision is clear: solutions must involve girls alongside policymakers and traditional leaders. Her message resonates with young mentors like Anita Razo, who said, "If we can pressure each other into behaving badly, then we can also influence each other to act positively."
This peer-led approach is already changing lives. The Nhanga revival began with a handful of girls—now, hundreds participate, and nearly 90% have gone on to higher education or launched their own projects. The movement is not just about resisting child marriage; it’s about rewriting what it means to be a girl in Zimbabwe, and perhaps, across Africa.
As the white tent in rural Zimbabwe fills with laughter, debate, and dreams, it’s clear that the revival of Nhanga is more than a return to tradition. It’s a bold step toward a future where every girl has the power—and the right—to choose her own path.