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Unforgettable torture on October 3 1978

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The story of Cde Naboth Munyengera

THE cruelty of Rhodesian soldiers is an aspect of the liberation struggle that many will never forget.
Many Africans were left traumatised.
For as long as I live, I will never forget October 3 1978.
On this day I witnessed the cruelty of Rhodesian soldiers first hand.
My father and grandfather were ‘arrested’ and tortured in front of the whole family at our homestead in Matambo Village, Honde Valley.
An exchange of heavy gunfire at Zawarira Mountain, about eight kilometres from my school, Saint Peter’s Mandeya, where I was doing Grade Six, forced our headmaster to dismiss us early.
I was 13 years old then.
A sell-out informed Rhodesians about freedom fighters who had established a base on Zawarira Mountain.
The freedom fighters thrashed the enemy before they ‘vanished’, which was their way of fighting.
Cde Killer Lorry, who operated in the area, was popular and renowned for his bravery.
We left school at around 9am after the gunfire had ceased.
It had lasted for about two hours.
I rushed home and joined my father and grandfather who were ploughing in the fields.
At around midday, food was brought to the fields.
Our lunch was rudely interrupted by Rhodesian soldiers who came to the muzhanje tree where we were having our sadza.
They were eight of them, two whites and six blacks.
The Rhodesians had been massacred at the Battle of Zawarira and these, their reinforcement came late.
They were angry and desperately looking for freedom fighters in order to revenge.
My grandfather, Nandi Gopito Munyengera, was a traditional healer and many people came from as far as Mozambique to consult him.
My grandfather assisted the freedom fighters with food and spiritual guidance whenever the ZANLA forces approached him.
A black soldier kicked our plates of sadza and the whites laughed.
They asked my grandfather about the whereabouts of freedom fighters and he professed ignorance.
This did not go down well with the Rhodesians.
I seethed with anger.
I wished I was old enough to fight the Rhodies.
We were force-marched to our homestead.
There were a lot of people at home, most of them were my grandfather’s patients.
Everyone was made to gather at the centre of the yard to witness the consequences of assisting freedom fighters.
A soldier by the name of Johns, who seemed to be the leader of the Rhodesians, started beating my grandfather while a black Rhodesian soldier continued asking him about the whereabouts of the freedom fighters.
Although he was beaten to a pulp and was bleeding profusely, my grandfather expressed ignorance.
My father was also thoroughly beaten, but he also portrayed ignorance.
Johns asked my grandmother to give him burning charcoal from her kitchen.
The charcoal was poured into my father and grandfather’s gumboots.
Pain and anger seared my heart but I was totally helpless.
There was nothing I could do, instead we were forced to sing and dance while my father and grandfather’s feet were burning.
My eyes met my grandfather’s eyes.
The old man was in pain and I felt challenged.
My grandfather was later tied to a mango tree which was close to his bedroom.
Johns poured honey on my grandfather’s body and ants started biting him while the interrogation went on.
The old man could not control himself because of the pain.
He messed himself and was forced to eat his waste.
My father was given a tin which he was told to urinate into and drink his urine.
I don’t know where I got the audacity to shout at these cruel Rhodesian soldiers.
Johns ordered people to stop singing and sit down before he lifted me by the collar of my shirt.
He slapped me on my left ear.
It was a heavy slap and blood started flowing from my ear.
I immediately lost consciousness only to come back to life after some minutes.
I was struck with fear when I opened my eyes and saw myself right in the middle of the Rhodies.
I stood in confusion and staggered towards my mother.
Johns grabbed me and for a moment I thought I was dead.
I was now shivering with fear.
Again Johns spat on my face and kicked me in the stomach.
I fell down in pain and pretended to have fainted.
I only got up after the Rhodesians had left with my father and grandfather to Ruda, Rhodesia’s military base where captured guerillas and villagers were taken for torture and interrogation.
Many never returned from that base.
Compiled by Emergencey Mwale-Kamtande

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