Most high gods in the region are approached at a distance, through ancestors, and have no address. Mwari is the exception, and the exception is a specific place: Matonjeni, in the granite hills of the Matobo range in southwestern Zimbabwe, and within it the shrine of Njelele.
At the shrine a voice speaks from the rock. Petitioners do not generally hear it themselves; the cult is served by officers, among them a keeper of the shrine and a woman who receives and relays, and by messengers, the vanyai, who travel to Matonjeni from communities across a wide area, carrying petitions and returning with instructions. The traffic is heaviest in matters of rain, which is the shrine's principal business, but it has also carried questions about disease, about the fertility of the land, and about conduct, including prohibitions on particular kinds of work on particular days.
What the shrine says is binding in a way that little else in Shona religion is. The vadzimu speak for a family and the mhondoro for a territory, but Matonjeni speaks for Mwari, and its rulings have been observed by people well outside any one lineage or chieftaincy. That reach is unusual, and it is what has made the cult interesting to historians as well as to students of religion.
The shrine is not a ruin or a survival. It has operated through the colonial period, through the war of the 1970s and into the present, and it remains a working institution with living officers and continuing disputes about who is entitled to hold them. M. L. Daneel's fieldwork in the 1960s and Michael Bourdillon's account of Shona religion remain the standard descriptions, and both were written about something being done rather than something remembered.