A WEEK ago I was in the village delivering fertiliser and school stationery.
The latter muchembere will use as payment in kind during weeding operations in our maize fields.
From Manyene right up to Unyetu, the maize crop is a sorry sight.
Near wetlands and floodplains the crop is a write off due to excessive rains.
On better ground the crop is showing signs of severe moisture stress.
Statistically, we have received above average rainfall, only that the rain distribution has been very poor.
Most of the rains were received within a 10-day spell.
I climbed the nearby Unyetu kopje for a better view.
To the south I could clearly see Unyetu school.
The school never used to be visible from this point due to canopy cover of mitondo and misasa trees.
The school forest is fast depleting.
East and south is a continuous gaze of an unhealthy maize crop and some long abandoned fields.
I strangely feel for the poor soil that has been subjected to plough action and maize planting yearly.
There is no crop rotation here as maize production has become synonymous with farming.
In the abandoned fields I notice tethered goats and occasional herds of sickly cattle.
Reluctantly I finally cast my eyes on the distant forest in the north to east quadrant and disappearing into the horizon.
Facing Magangara, anger rises in me and my eyes swell with tears.
I look at the stone-lined grave of Petegumbo and momentarily see a mushroom rise of him and many sons of Neshangwe, joining me in lamenting the loss of Magangara.
These are the ancestral lands of the Hungwe and Njanja people.
It is here that Mambo Chirwa moved to from Bvumbura and set up a customs station to tap into the thriving East African coast trade with the Portuguese.
At Magangara the Portuguese trader, nicknamed ‘Muroro’ because of his roro complexion, married one of Chirwa’s daughters.
Neshangwe and other vazukuru of Chirwa became trusted lieutenants in state craft involving complex political, economic, cultural and religious matters.
In Magangara the mbira sound was perfected and it’s also here that Neshangwe succeeded Chirwa and established the Sinyoro chieftainship.
The country grew and the political and economic capital moved from Magangara, but the original sound of mbira remained here.
Magangara became a sacred place to both the Hungwe and Sinyoro people.
A couple of centuries later the British gangsters arrived in search for gold.
Soon they discovered that land was the gold in this country.
Magangara residents had no reason to be worried.
In 1909 a company called the London Rhodesian Mining and Land Company was listed on the London Stock Exchange.
Again Magangara would have seen no reason to be worried.
So when years later Magangara became part of the London Rhodesia company’s cattle ranching Wilsthire estate, there was widespread consternation.
The children of Chirwa and the Njanja became Magangara squatters.
Rhodesian squatters became the new landlords.
In the 1950’s the London Rhodesia Company sold part of the ‘estate’ including Magangara to the state which in turn subdivided these into ‘Native Purchase Areas’ for commercial farming.
The sound of the mbira left Magangara.
At this point a tear drop rolled down my cheek.
Recalling stories of forced removals was tortuous.
But facing Magangara you cannot avoid the painful memories.
Alexander Kanengoni has previously shared with us his own horror experience;
“I was still very young then, in 1958, but I remember the panic that swept through the village the day we were forcibly moved from Mtekedza Tribal Trust Land area to pave way for the creation of the Wiltshire cattle ranches.
“I particularly remember the fear in my father’s eyes.
“I don’t know whether the Native Commissioner at The Range had notified anybody about the intended eviction because everyone seemed surprised when the lorries from Native Affairs Department arrived.
“My elder brother was out in the pastures herding cattle with the other bigger boys.
“I thought my father wanted to run away each time the white police officer in charge of the operation barked orders at his black subordinates to get the people to pack their belongings quickly onto the lorries because he didn’t want to go back to Enkeldorn when it was dark.
“My father and several others eventually returned to fetch my elder brother, the other bigger boys and the cattle the following day.”
Magangara’s autochthons left to make way for matenganyika, native purchase areas.
These land buyers came from Chivi, Gutu, Chipinge, Bikita and Zaka.
Our grandfathers, perhaps in their naivety, could not understand how a right-thinking ‘native’ could possibly buy Magangara and its sacredness.
Matenganyika or matengesanyika had been an alien concept to them.
Not far from Magangara they got squashed into ‘new lines’ resettlement.
In the 1970s’ I also joined the trek to these farms weeding maize fields in return for cups of sour milk.
Our mothers went on their knees begging for permission to collect firewood from these farms.
On chisi we saw the new farmers of Magangara tirelessly tilling the fields.
Spirit mediums sneaked at night to Magangara to consult senior spirits on this abomination.
As I faced Magangara last week I saw malnourished cattle looking enviously at the Magangara grasses.
When the war broke out in the late 1970s, Magangara became partly liberated.
We had ‘war bases’ in these farms.
Our cattle could happily and freely graze here.
The mbira sound returned to Magangara.
Strangely colonial order returned with independence.
Magangara is now not reachable.
Mbira sound is now too faint.
Even the Third Chimurenga has failed to free sacred Magangara ancestral places. Chirwa cannot be happy.
Neshangwe, Mutekedza, Maromo, Gwangwava, these are sad times.
A stream of tears rolls down my cheek and falls with a thud on this Unyetu rock, not far from where Petegumbo lies.
I cannot face Magangara anymore and have to retire home.
Now the poor maize crops the least of my worries.