I first encountered the late Sam Moyo through his chapter “The Land Question” in Ibbo Mandaza’s seminal edited collection, Zimbabwe: The Political Economy of Transition 1980-1986 published by CODESRIA in 1986. Moyo’s essay was a must-read for scholars and students seeking to understand the varied economic, social, and political consequences arising from the inherited legacy of unequal land distribution in the newly named (and independent) country of Zimbabwe.

The following year, as an undergraduate student at the University of Manitoba, I traveled to Zimbabwe. There, along with twenty-nine other Canadian university students I went to the Zimbabwe Institute of Development Studies (later IDS at the University of Zimbabwe) in Harare to listen to Sam and his colleagues explain the wider political economy of Zimbabwe to us. I recall being both overwhelmed by the wide range of facts and data being presented to us, and how Sam stood out amongst his colleagues with his cool demeanor, pointed and incisive comments, and as someone who chain-smoked throughout the entire meeting. Little did I know that I would get an opportunity to work with, and learn from Sam twelve years later.

In those intervening years, Sam had established himself even more as a leading authority on Zimbabwean agrarian, land, and environmental issues. In a number of academic and policy papers, and books which he wrote or co-wrote with others, Professor Moyo was becoming a crucial authority on all things rural in Zimbabwe.

Geographic space concerns were vital to the livelihoods for the majority in the country. A colonial legacy of race-based land division, into European large-scale farms located in the better soil and rain zones, and African small farms in worse soil and rain zones, haunted and informed much of both national and local politics. Sam’s work dispassionately examined how these land inequalities generated unequal development in the country, and how the ZANU (PF) government’s policies largely exacerbated them. This was particularly true during the 1990s during the ZANU (PF)’s structural adjustment program, where it showed hostility toward land occupiers, and enacted a donor-encouraged re-crafting of its land resettlement program, gearing it more to “commercially-oriented indigenous farmers” rather than to land-poor black farmers.

By the late 1990s, the political scene in Zimbabwe was heating up. There were growing protests against the government’s economic and international policies, and demands for a new constitution and more democratic freedoms by trade unions, students, war veterans (those who fought in the guerrilla armies in the war for independence), and civil society activists. As Prosper Matondi, then Sam’s key research assistant, notes, Sam was not only analyzing this all through a well-honed political economy lens but he was actively involved in an endless series of meetings and negotiations between the government, donors, and other stakeholders regarding land reform.

It was during this exciting and ultimately turbulent time that I first came to know Sam. I met him through his then wife, Dede Amanor-Wilks. I had finished my doctoral thesis concerning commercial farm workers in Zimbabwe, and Dede had been publishing and putting together insightful reports on the conditions of farm workers for Panos and the Zimbabwe-based Dateline Southern Africa. In 1999 Sam asked Dede and I to work with him on writing an article for the Review of African Political Economy relating the situation of farm workers in light of land reform. For several months in the latter half of 1999, I had the intense but enjoyable learning experience of working with Sam. His prodigious knowledge, the opening up of his overflowing library (and reading his publications and innumerable reports, many which were unpublished), and his careful and critical reading of many drafts, taught me much about the political economy of agrarian reform and offered me a glimpse into Sam himself.

Sam’s warmth and humor, even when he was critically dissecting my work, made me realize why he stood out at that ZIDS meeting in 1987, and why he easily forged ties with so many people in Zimbabwe and around the world. Excellent scholarship will attract attention, but the combination of that with a generous scholarly camaraderie is what made Sam a relatively unique intellectual.

We were writing our article while Sam was extremely busy meeting with government officials, donors, and others trying to find a way forward for land reform. At the same time, the newly launched opposition party, the Movement for Democratic Change, was gaining momentum and putting more pressure on the ZANU (PF) government.  Our article came out later in 2000 but by then the facts on the ground had completely changed the policy environment for land reform in Zimbabwe, and the position of commercial farm workers within it.

The next decade was a tough but important period for Sam. The highly politicized land redistribution program, which became known as the Fast Track Land Resettlement Program, brought the much needed land reform needed to begin to address the inherited colonial inequalities, the thing for which his scholarship had long been advocating. However, it came at great cost: state policy-making processes and institutions were undermined, violence was unleashed against many (particularly commercial farm workers), and the relationship with the Global North was deeply frayed. In this context, Sam decided to continue advising the ZANU (PF) government, even though they were directing the force of the state against the MDC and its supporters. He and his research team were conducting important empirical studies on the fast-changing rural economies. Yet, his attempt to provide dispassionate policy, technical advice was a tough row to hoe. In this time of hyper-partisanship, old friendships were frayed and suspicion and denouncements were common. Sam’s emphasis that he was not beholden to any political party often was lost in this time of struggle on so many fronts.

Despite the political climate, and the free fall of the national currency and economy, Sam continued to do what he did best: conduct research, publish, and train and mentor scholars. Sam’s already expansive continental and international networks of colleagues and friends expanded even more, as many were keen to learn about Zimbabwe’s ongoing land reform and realized Sam’s extensive knowledge. He found time for all of these relationships, building up his new African Institute of Agrarian Studies research institution and other networks, seeing former research assistants become important scholars and institution leaders. He continuously mentored others, and wrote and co-wrote books, articles, and reports, which provided deep insight into the unfolding agrarian dynamics in Zimbabwe, and the surrounding debates around political economy, social movements, and notions of social justice.

I bumped into Sam in the Oliver Tambo airport in Johannesburg in 2013. I had felt badly having lost touch with him for so long, but he did not seem concerned. He warmly told me of some of his current projects and ambitions, and we talked about trying to work together if I was able to conduct some of my new planned research in Zimbabwe. He was his usual warm, engaging, down-to-earth self, characterized by a humbleness which I found so impressive.

It is hard to imagine not having Sam’s active voice around anymore. His scholarship will long be a defining feature of the understanding and debates concerning agrarian reform in Zimbabwe and the Global South. His influence is carried on through those many Zimbabwean and international scholars he mentored and worked with, and it will continue to be felt for some decades ahead. His presence will be sorely missed by his partner Beatrice Mtetwa, his family, his daughters, and colleagues around the world, including those many of us who may have not seen him for some time but knew he was there in Harare. His untimely passing leaves a gap that will be hard, if not impossible, to fill.