SOME claimed that our children would have to be forced to recite the National Schools Pledge.
At the time we protested strongly that this was untrue.
We said the children of Zimbabwe love their country and would not have to be forced to recite the National Schools Pledge.
We also pointed out that it was natural for them to love their country and that self-hate is a psychological construct.
At the same time, we reminded the writer that Zimbabwe’s children had flocked to Mozambique and Zambia to train as fighters so that they could fight to liberate their country.
There is no stronger demonstration of their love for Zimbabwe than the willingness to give up their lives for it; that it was therefore preposterous and malicious to suggest today’s children were born hating their country and Government would have to force them to pledge allegiance to their Zimbabwe.
Friday of this year’s Zimbabwe International Book Fair (ZIBF) in the Harare Gardens, it was Chindunduma Secondary School pupils who were the first to stop by the ZIMFEP stand.
Although it was disappointing that they did not know the rich history of the origins of their school, like all other students who stopped by our stand, the history of the liberation struggle captivated them.
Invariably they listened in rapt attention when I explained that Zimbabwe’s children, their age and younger, had left the country to train so that they could come back and fight to free their nation.
Invariably their eyes shone when I talked about these youngsters leaving for the liberation struggle, and invariably they struggled to veil their disappointment when I explained that those who were below 18 years were put into schools until they were old enough to be trained to be fighters.
This is exactly how children had responded at the Bulawayo Book Fair this year, and this is precisely how their predecessors had felt when they were told ‘thank you for coming to join the struggle comrades but you are too young, in the meantime you will go to school’.
This is the true mettle of Zimbabwe, that which Nehanda saw in Zimbabwe’s children as our country’s future eternally unfolded before her eyes and she prophesied: ‘Mapfupa angu achamuka’.
So after listening to the whole story, one girl (13 or 14) from Chindunduma Secondary School asked: “Were they trained as fighters when they became older?”
When I said yes, her face lit up.
It was the conclusion and consolation she needed; that the desire for these youngsters to fight for their country did not go unrequited.
After some moments, she said: “But this was a difficult life for the children in these schools in the struggle.”
I said yes it was difficult, but they had dedicated themselves to fight for their country; they knew fighting in the liberation war was very difficult, so they accepted the hardships as the sacrifice they were prepared to make for Zimbabwe.
She nodded in agreement.
One was left with the feeling that the discussion with these youngsters could go on and on, but they had to move on to other stands, observe and learn other things.
Saturday morning, the first visitor to our stand was a teenage boy studying at Milestone College in Rusape.
I asked him about his studies and inevitably we talked about his history studies and he said he was doing European history. While I was musing on this, he did not tarry but moved on.
He was soon followed by a younger boy from the same school. When I asked him about his history studies, he said unfortunately he was doing European history.
So I said not to worry, I would talk to him about our history and he was interested.
We went through the book, Schools in the Struggle, the story of those youngsters who left for the struggle; the life of self-reliance they lived; making their own clothes, growing their vegetable, building their own barracks, making their own furniture, cooking for themselves, all about life in these schools but before I could finish, he interrupted me:
“Why are we not being taught this and why is this not part of our studies?”
I was taken aback. He meant it. He needed to know the truth, so I explained to him that after the liberation war in 1980, a new curriculum was put in place. In this curriculum, all that he was asking about was taken care of and for 10 years the young people of this country learned about their history, their struggle, but then we were side-swiped and this revolutionary curriculum was put aside.
This young man was so serious I had to tell him the whole story and he understood.
I then explained that this is what is being rectified by the new curriculum, but this did not console him as he asked:
“Even if this is rectified in the new curriculum, what about those of us who are learning in private schools, where are we going to get it from?”
Tough question, it was from his heart.
I said this was something we were working towards, so that each child learning beneath the Zimbabwe Flag would learn about his/her history, about what is relevant to him/her — it was a battle we still were engaged in.
He remained silent.
After some moments he asked if we ever visit schools to explain these important things.
I explained that we used to, but to a much lesser extent currently. Meanwhile we had been joined by a girl from his school, Roberta, who was equally interested in the history of her country.
He was listless, and after some moments asked me directly: “Can you visit us at our school?”
My response was: “Gladly.”
He was relieved.
Roberta had been listening to my explanation about ‘Education with Production’, but she wanted to know if there were such schools where one could pursue the practical side of the subject of his/her choice such as drama instead of spending years doing accounts and afterwards look for the practical subject of choice.
Again, I found myself apologising, explaining that such schools had been established right after independence with the children from the struggle who had already pioneered this idea in the schools in the struggle, that these schools had flourished for many years but there were struggles once again and this was discontinued but there was still hope because this is coming back in the new curriculum.
This is not the kind of story you enjoy telling youngsters, the children of Zimbabwe, that we fought, liberated our country, started out gloriously, blazed a beautiful trail but after sometime we disagreed so severely these revolutionary programmes were set aside.
It is not easy to tell such but it is the truth, and I am glad these two youngsters were mature enough to appreciate these vicissitudes; they did not despair.
Later we were joined by their teacher, a Cde Zimunya.
We had interesting discussions about writing, why I had written Ndangariro and I explained that it was to rebut the film Flame which denigrated the relationship between male and female freedom fighters to the crassest level, which is not what I experienced in the liberation struggle.
Roberta wanted to know what had motivated me to write, with others, the book Schools in the Struggle to tell the heroic story of the young people who left home to fight in the liberation war.
I explained their schooling under war conditions and the new education system they created in the struggle.
She was at peace.
They had to move on, but before they left, the boy wanted to know when we would visit his school.
I told him I would let him know before they went back to Rusape.
He left his name and cell number.
He is Tinashe.
This is still what captures the hearts of young Zimbabweans rapturously.
They want to learn their history, of how their country came to be; they want to be taught this; they want to hold in their hands books about this illustrious moment in their country’s history. They are in love with it, the way their predecessors were, those very young ones who left to join the liberation struggle.