MY mother influenced me to join the liberation struggle, although she may not have realised it.
Each time I came home for holidays from the University of Botswana and Swaziland, she would tell me beautiful stories about young freedom fighters who had also now reached our home area.
She was touched freedom fighters would sacrifice their lives, trekking all the way from Manicaland and fighting in Gutu for people they did not know.
She told me they asked for whatever they needed with so much respect. From these special stories, she ignited and nurtured my admiration for freedom fighters.
When I finally met the comrades, it was both dramatic and romantic.
I was on my way from school for the holidays and our bus was approaching Bhasera Township, my home area, when a young man in a Sandinista hat commandeered the bus and drove it into the business centre.
I was ecstatic.
I knew it was them finally and that night, we talked deep into the night with my mother about the comrades.
When finally Cde Chademana from the ZANU external affairs Department came to the University of Botswana to address us about the liberation struggle, I was ripe.
He told us about the Chimoio Massacre (November 23 1977) and the dire need for clothing, medicines, food, cash and other supplies.
He gave us copies of the Zimbabwe News and in there the story of the merciless massacre of children, my decision was made; such monsters needed to be fought and no amount of talking could end such brutality.
I waited until I had written my third-year exams and then left for the ZANU office in Francistown, Botswana.
I told the comrades I wanted to join the struggle.
Comrades Chiweshe and Munyoro, who manned this office, welcomed me warmly.
They would not accept the 90 pula I offered to pay for my ticket to Zambia.
The party, they said, would see to that, but I should use the money to buy clothing, for clothing was very scarce in Mozambique.
They took me shopping for polo necks, sneakers, trousers and jackets, for this was late April into May.
I would be arriving in Mozambique in winter.
I stayed with comrades Munyoro and Chiweshe for about a month before my ticket came.
When it came, the two drove me to Selebi Pikwe where I was to fly from.
They left me in the hands of Cde Mike Munyati, the recruiting officer who was to oversee my departure for Zambia enroute to Mozambique.
It was my 22nd birthday when I left Botswana for Zambia.
On the plane were 20 ZAPU recruits and I was the only one from ZANU.
In Lusaka I was received by someone from the Party office and taken to a residence where I stayed with many other comrades.
I was impatient to proceed to Mozambique, but was told we were waiting for trucks that had been donated by the Organisation of African Unity which were on their way from Tanzania.
The trucks arrived after what seemed an eternity and the two of us, another male recruit and me left for Mozambique.
I rode in the truck driven by Cde Boniface Pfidze, a member of the High Command and the other recruit was driven in the other truck.
We drove all the way to Mozambique and Cde Pfidze was nothing but kindness.
Cde Pfidze and I parted when he left me at a holding camp just outside Maputo.
Sadly, I learned he died soon after at the front.
The comrades here received me warmly; they insisted on being too kind.
First, they insisted I sleep in the barrack for the sick because I needed special protection in case of an attack since I had a limp in my left leg.
They also insisted my meals be brought there, but when someone collected my laundry, I felt it was too much.
Their philosophy was the communist one, ‘from each according to their ability and to each according to their need’.
It took me some time to get used to it.
The following day I was taken to Gondola where schoolchildren who had survived the Chimoio attack were based.
It was still mid-morning and classes were in progress under the trees.
I was left at Cde Dzingai Mutumbuka’s office and was later handed over to his deputy, Cde Sheba Tavarwisa.
I thought I had finally arrived, but it was not so.
Around 10pm, I was told to get my belongings and directed to a truck outside.
I got on the truck and sat between two comrades whom I assumed were senior commanders.
I didn’t know where we were going as we drove through the forests.
All I could see were booms being lifted up and passwords being exchanged.
We finally got to our destination around midnight.
A female comrade was asked to find me somewhere to sleep.
Later I learnt this was Pasichigare Camp, the headquarters for security and defence where Cde Josiah Tongogara, Secretary for Defence, and Cde Emmerson Mnangagwa, Secretary for Security, were based.
I lived there for one month.
However, one day I was summoned in the camp.
As I approached, I saw a truck and someone I assumed to be a senior commander standing by it.
He ordered me to go back and come back marching like a military person.
I did, before he told me to take my belongings and get on the truck.
He dropped me off at Gondola, which turned out to be my final station.
This was the base for the headquarters of the ZANU Education Department; the department I served until independence in 1980.
Later we moved to Pasichigare and after an attack, we settled at New Stores and finally were moved to Tete Province where we built a new camp called Matenje.
I never did get to work in the Defence Department.
I was told the party deployed people where they could serve best.
This time I was not assigned to the medical barrack, but I had my own posto, but once again I had to be situated where I could get assistance in case of an attack.
My posto was near the crèche barrack.
Later the party sent me for treatment to Denmark after my polio-affected left leg became strained due to the conditions of war.
Later on I learnt the men who had taken me from Gondola to Pasichigare in the dead of the night were Cdes Tongogara and Mnangagwa.
The senior comrade who then took me from Pasichigare to Gondola was Cde Mnangagwa.
Throughout my journey to Mozambique and my days in the liberation war, I never encountered the spectre of rapists or murderers, but only more kindness than anything I have encountered outside our war of liberation.
Nothing untoward happened to me.
Nothing happened to me when Cdes Tongogara and Mnangagwa drove me in the dead of the night.
Nothing happened to me when we drove alone with Cde Boniface Pfidze.
In Francistown I stayed with Cde Chiweshe and Cde Munyoro for a month and I was safe.
In Selebi Pikwe, I was with Cde Mike Munyati; he was the greatest of brothers.
Wherever I stayed in the camps, I never heard of cases of rape by senior or junior comrades.
At Matenje Base in Tete Province, I slept alone in my posto among thousands of comrades.
The posto had no doors, but nothing ever happened to me.
In the camps, the rules were very clear; no adultery, no fornication.
When two comrades fell in love and were serious, they went to the commissar to register as a married couple.
It was against the rules for people to sleep around.
Some married and the marriages still subsist 36 years after independence.
A lot of what our war of liberation is accused of falls by the wayside if one understands the spiritual nature of our war.
It was a war to reclaim our land and wealth that had been stolen by British armed robbers.
Would comrades who were so intolerant of adultery in the liberation war be at peace with rapist commanders?
Surely, Nehanda did not turn her back on us!