A Nation Preparing for the Inevitable: Zimbabwe's Funeral Insurance Boom Overshadows Healthcare Crisis

HARARE, Zimbabwe — When Steward Ganda fell gravely ill, his family faced a desperate scramble. The 60-year-old shopkeeper from Harare’s Kambuzuma suburb needed a specialist consultation costing $600—a sum that took his relatives a month to gather. By the time they did, it was too late. Ganda passed away in hospital, a casualty of a healthcare system that remains out of reach for millions.

Yet, in a poignant contrast, Ganda’s funeral was carried out with dignity and relative ease. A hearse, a casket, and transport for mourners were all provided, paid for by a modest $11 monthly premium he had faithfully paid to a funeral services company. His story encapsulates a grim national reality: in Zimbabwe, it is often more feasible to insure a dignified death than to secure treatment for survival.

Data reveals a society financially bracing for its final rites. According to a 2022 report by FinMark Trust, 72% of insured Zimbabweans hold funeral policies, dwarfing the 30% covered by health insurance. With fewer than 900,000 in formal employment, roughly 90% of the population—about 16 million people—must pay for medical care out of pocket, as per the latest national statistics.

"The calculus is brutally simple for many households," says Innocent Tshuma, Public Relations Manager at Doves Holdings Group. "Funerals are immediate, communal events with high social expectations. Funeral insurance offers cost certainty in a way that the unpredictable, often exorbitant world of medical bills simply cannot."

The affordability gap is stark. While comprehensive health insurance can run into hundreds of dollars monthly, funeral cover can start as low as $0.75. In a country where over half the population lives on less than $3.65 a day, this difference is decisive.

Dr. Vivek Solanki of the Zimbabwe Medical Association points to a cultural and historical dimension. "There is a deep-seated importance placed on a respectful send-off," he notes. "Conversely, planning for serious illness can sometimes be viewed with superstition. Compounding this is a legacy of expecting state-provided healthcare, a system that has crumbled under economic strain."

The public health system, plagued by underfunding, staff shortages, and drug stockouts, offers little respite. With just 1.7 hospital beds per 1,000 people and a maternal mortality rate more than double the global average, the crisis is acute.

In response, the government plans to launch a National Health Insurance scheme in June, aiming for universal coverage. Public health activist Itai Rusike calls it a "welcome affirmation of commitment" but warns that success hinges on addressing "the fundamental social determinants of health, from economic stability to infrastructure."

Where the state and formal markets fail, community ingenuity fills the void. A vibrant ecosystem of informal burial societies has emerged. In Jegede village, Zaka district, the community formed a burial society after an elderly woman died without means for a coffin. "We now have 44 members. Each contributes $10 when a member dies," explains chairperson Chomudisa Jegede. "It works. But we know we must also look beyond death to health insurance."

This community-driven safety net, while vital, underscores the systemic failure. As Dr. Solanki concludes, "The path forward requires massive public education on the necessity of health funding. Perhaps Zimbabweans abroad, familiar with functional insurance, can help lead this shift in mindset."

For now, the trend remains a sobering indicator of national priorities. As one traditionalist, Pearson Takaingei Marinda, lamented to Al Jazeera, the phenomenon represents a "commercialisation of life," where planning for death has become not just a cultural imperative, but a more rational financial bet than investing in healthcare.

Voices from the Ground

Tendai Moyo, 42, School Teacher in Bulawayo: "It's a painful logic we live with. I pay for my mother's funeral cover because I know I could never afford the sudden shock of burial costs. Her diabetes medication, though? We skip doses some months. The system forces us to choose, and death is the more predictable expense."

Farai Chikwava, 35, Informal Trader in Harare: "This isn't just about money; it's about respect. My father worked hard his whole life. To bury him in a shoddy way? Never. The funeral policy guarantees his dignity. The hospital guarantees nothing but debt. What would you choose?"

Anesu Mhlanga, 28, NGO Worker (Emotional & Sharp): "It's a national disgrace! We're normalizing a dystopian choice where a coffin is a better investment than a doctor. This isn't culture—it's the result of a collapsed state and corporate opportunism. These insurance companies are profiting from our despair and our love for our elders. The government's new scheme is just a promise on paper while people die from treatable conditions every day."

Dr. Sarah Nkomo, 50, Public Health Researcher: "The data tells a story of rational actors in an irrational system. Funeral insurance meets a clear, immediate need at low cost. Until we make healthcare financing equally accessible, predictable, and valued, this disparity will persist. The burial societies show the power of community risk-pooling—that model must be harnessed for health."

This article is published in collaboration with Egab.