In Memory of Dr Webster Zambara: A Legacy of Wisdom, Joy, Generosity and Peacebuilding.

By Nyasha McBride Mpani

When I joined IJR in 2021, I was fortunate enough to share an office with Webster Zambara. From day one, his easy-going nature, infectious smile, and endless jokes made every day brighter. Webster had a way of bringing joy into the room, always dressed to the nines, and when I’d ask him why he was always so sharp, he’d grin and say, “I’m just protecting the company’s image.” It was one of those playful exchanges that became a cherished part of our daily routine.

But beyond the jokes and the sharp dressing, Webster was a man full of wisdom. As a trained teacher, he turned every conversation into a learning experience. His words were filled with insight, and I often found myself seeking his guidance. He was the person I turned to when I needed counsel—the one who always knew the right thing to say. Webster was generous to the core, not just with his advice but with everything, even sharing his lunch without hesitation, which often included traditional foods like nzungu, mutakura, or mbambaira. He also loved egusi and introduced us to his favourite spots in town that served delicious egusi soup. On a cold day, he would say, ‘This is perfect weather for egusi; let’s go get some.’ I learned to eat and appreciate egusi from him.

One of his simple joys was walking, and every day at lunch, he’d invite me for a stroll. As a lazy person, sometimes I would refuse and say Mukoma ini zvekufamba handidi nhasi. However, those walks became our time to talk about life, work, and everything in between. His love for his parents was something that stood out to me. I’ll never forget when he came back from a work trip in Zimbabwe in May, proudly showing me a video of his parents singing “Happy Birthday” to him. It was so beautiful to see the 52-year-old Webster sitting next to his parents, grinning with the joy of a 5-year-old boy as they sang to him. The way he spoke about them, the pride in his voice as he sat between his father and mother, was truly heart-warming.

Webster was more than just a colleague—he was a masterful facilitator and a gifted writer. He brought our Data for Governance Alliance Project regional convenings to life, engaging participants in ways that left lasting impacts. At our last convening in Accra, his absence was deeply felt. People kept asking, “Where is Webster?” because his presence was that profound.

I remember him often telling me last year, “Nyasha, I’ve been doing this Inside Africa report on Radio 786 for too long; it’s time for you to take over.” I’d laugh it off, saying, “Not yet, Mukoma, you’re still needed.” But he was insistent, and looking back now, I wish I had taken up the mantle earlier while he was still here to guide me. When he began to feel ill last month, he asked me to stand in for him, and I did. But in my heart, I regret not taking that step sooner so he could have heard me on the radio and continued to offer his sage advice.

Webster was always there, coaching us before TV or radio interviews, sharing tips on what to do and what to expect. He also helped me refine my media writing. I recall submitting my first media articles for his review, and he would say, “Nyasha, your opening line isn’t powerful enough; it’s too academic. This is a media article—make it catchy.” That was Webster, always pushing me to be more creative in my writing. Together, we collaborated on numerous media articles, and our work was published in several media houses.

I remember visiting him in the hospital one day when he wasn’t in his ward. An inquisitive patient asked, “Who is this man?” They were intrigued, saying, “He speaks so intelligently, always reading, always saying amazing things.” I smiled and replied, “You’re in the company of a doctor of books; enjoy it.” That was Webster—ever the scholar, ever the mentor.

One day, when the two Cunard Cruises’ Queens, the Queen Mary 2 and the Queen Victoria, docked in Cape Town for the first time, Webster took me during lunch to see them. It was a special moment, as these two majestic ships graced the same African port simultaneously. The Queen Mary 2 had arrived on the 11th of April, finishing her 30-day journey from Hong Kong, while the Queen Victoria followed on the 12th of April, partway through her 55-day voyage from Sydney to Southampton. Webster started explaining everything about the ships, answering all my questions with his usual depth of knowledge. That was Webster—always eager to share what he knew, always a teacher at heart.

He also had a deep love for wine and perfumes. There was nothing about wine that he didn’t know, and he was always ready to share his expertise. Initially, I was amazed at how much he knew, but then he showed me his certificate—he was a certified wine connoisseur. From then on, he became my personal wine guide; whenever I wanted to try a new wine, I’d ask him, and he’d tell me whether it was good or bad. Similarly, Webster had a great appreciation for fine fragrances. He loved smelling good and would always ask me to bring him a new perfume whenever I travelled. It was clear that he took great care in his appearance and personal grooming, reflecting his detailed nature.

Webster was one of the few who refused to be called “Dr,” even though he had earned the title. I remember one engagement in Johannesburg, which I joined online to watch him speak. He was introduced as “Dr. Zambara,” but when he took the platform, he immediately corrected them, saying, “Just call me Webster.” When he came back to the office, I was so mad at him. I said, “Why did you refuse when they called you Dr.? You earned that title; you should accept it!” But he just smiled and replied, “There’s no need for that, young man.” His humility was remarkable, always preferring to be called by his name rather than his credentials. This trait made him even more approachable and beloved by everyone who knew him.

He was a Pan-African at heart, deeply connected to the motherland. Webster knew the continent inside and out, and each time we travelled together, he would share captivating stories about different regions, their cultures, and histories. His passion for Africa was infectious, and he instilled in me a greater appreciation for our rich heritage.

A devout Catholic, Webster loved his church and was deeply involved in his faith community. He often shared stories about his peace-building work in Kenya and Uganda under the Catholic mission, particularly when he was based at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church in Kakamega. His dedication to fostering peace and understanding was a testament to his compassionate nature and unwavering commitment to making the world a better place. Webster was a peacebuilder par excellence—if not a peacebuilder connoisseur.

We also shared the experience of observing South African elections this year. Driving across Cape Town with Webster, I learned the nuances of election observation under his expert guidance. He taught me not only the importance of vigilance and integrity in critical processes but also what to do when you arrive at a polling station as an observer. The day was particularly interesting because, aside from learning about elections, it also became an opportunity to explore both the rural and urban landscapes of Cape Town. As we traversed these diverse areas, Webster’s deep knowledge of the city’s regions enriched the experience, making it both educational and memorable. He topped it off by taking us to his famous tshisa nyama place for lunch, where he ordered some deliciously braaied meat. We enjoyed a hearty meal, took pictures, and shared more stories, making it a perfect conclusion to a memorable day.

When I last saw Webster before I left for the Accra Convening, which he was also supposed to be a part of, he assured me he would get better and be ready to attend the Cape Town convening. Now, we are going to go ahead without him, and it’s both sad and painful. I was hopeful, too, that he would recover and continue the important work he had started. But alas, God had other plans. As I reflect on all these memories, I realize how much I held onto that hope—that we would work together again. But God had other plans. Though Webster’s light has left this world, it continues to shine brightly in the hearts of those who knew him. Even in death, he continues to be a peacebuilder, inspiring us all to strive for the world he envisioned.

Go well, my brother, until we meet again. Your legacy lives on in the wisdom you shared, the laughter you brought, the love you gave, and the countless lives you touched.

Zororai Murugare Mukoma, ndima masakura mazunza!