HomeOld_PostsMy liberation war experience: Part Four …captured, but released

My liberation war experience: Part Four …captured, but released

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By Sydney Mukwenje

WE arrived at Majakata Village safely around 1pm, had our lunch, took our baths and rested the whole day until evening.
After eating our supper we bade farewell to our hosts and headed for Nyarwendo Village where some of the comrades had retreated after the Mubvakure battle in the morning.
On our way something funny happened.
Some plates dropped at a nearby home at Makaha Village.
I heard the sound correctly, but Cde Tasangana could have none of that and was already about to speed off.
I asked him why and he said, “Iwe Sydney, I heard as if we were being shelled by an M60 that was why I wanted to run away.
“Kutorova spandahwe chaiyo.
“Mfana we are well trained, a minimum of six months for that matter.
“I can spend the whole day fighting and running.
“We are not Madzakutsaku who are trained for two months then they are sent to fight vana vaMbuya Nehanda.”
We laughed it off and arrived at Nyarwendo Village around 8pm.
The following morning I woke up from the maize field ‘poshto’ only to discover that all the comrades had left around 3am and I returned home.
After three days when I was cooking fresh maize and pumpkins for breakfast, I saw some of the villagers rushing through our gate and informed me that danger was looming.
I put on my shoes and off I followed them.
I left the pot on the fire and what happened to the pumpkins I did not bother.
After about two kilometres (km) we looked back from a vantage point and saw six pumas and almost 100 soldiers disembarking at Murowe School.
We knew they had come to camp there for good according to their rapid movements.
I joined my brother Noah Gundawakuru and we headed for Mhangara or Toronga Village where the home of the late wrestler Oliver Tengende was situated.
We slept at Noah’s uncle’s home and at dawn we heard the sound of a communications radio (ChiOver-Over) and a knock.
We knew we had now been captured and true, we were now captives.
Along the way Chimbwidos like Mirriam Murowe and Violet Madotsa were also picked up.
On arrival at the camp, the Chimbwidos were the first to be beaten along with the interrogations, “Upilo gandanga, yakaenda kupi nezuro?”
They bolted out, jumped over the school fence and sped off screaming.
Fortunately those soldiers were not very cruel otherwise they could have shot them dead, but they simply laughed.
Mukoma Noah and I were very lucky throughout our stay there.
We were not even beaten except being made to wash heaps and heaps of their camouflage. Probably it was because of three reasons.
First Mukoma Noah met one of the soldiers from Mufakose in Harare where they both stayed. We also had snuff and Chifumuro (a herbal tuber) in our pockets which we continuously rubbed onto our heads which according to tradition could ward off whatever evil intentions the soldiers had.
Thirdly, I was putting on an army short which I had been given by the comrades.
I lied to them that the short belonged to my brother who joined the Rhodesian army way back in 1975, but had not yet returned home.
I lied to them that he never came back because he had been killed by the gandangas.
They believed me and we became friends.
I also lied to them that I was a herdboy in Seke and had just come back to obtain an ID.
Seke community never experienced real gun battles meaning people of Seke did not know maComrades so I was one of those who did not know them.
I also wanted them to disconnect me from the war situation in Manicaland and indeed it worked. Throughout our stay they ended up feeding us with the best food that included tinned beef meant for them as opposed to sadza and nyemba.
All that while my grandparents were spending the whole day herding cattle by the school fence watching us.
They thought they were seeing me for the last time because the camp could be bombed any time.
Our homestead was some 300 metres away from that school.
There was tension among the comrades because if I had sold them out, they were finished because I knew a lot because of my experience with them.
However, I was not that type to sell out because of my background.
We the Mukwenjes, Matsungos, Chitepos, Gawazas, Mhiningas and Barwes are descendants of the Zimunya clan who are well known liberation fighters who resisted the evictions from their land in Zimunya during the 1900s to an extent of being castrated because of our nharo.
That’s why we are affectionately referred to as ‘Munyarari akachekwa nemakiwa’.
After five days in captivity we were set free and falsely appeared dejected by the release.
We even promised them that we would voluntarily go back.
I rushed home there and then.
During the evening I followed my grandmother to my aunt’s home in Nyabinde Village across Nyatande River in Makoni where she had taken my suitcase earlier in the day.
The following day around 8am, I was at Riverside along Mutare Road on my way to Harare where I boarded Mverechena Bus.
It had now become inhabitable for young Mujibhas and Chimbwidos to stay freely in Manicaland because of the intensity of the war.
Old men and women had now become the Mujibhas and Chimbwidos because the soldiers could not easily suspect them.
Mukoma Phineas Kasiyandima and Noah Gundawakuru later followed to Harare.
They are now successful A1 tobacco farmers in Nyamajura and Ruwati Resettlemnet areas in Makoni respectively.
After a few months in Harare, I left for Seke where my grandmother stayed.
I only revealed to my relatives there after the announcements of the election results in 1980 that I had been a diehard Mujibha because I did not trust anyone despite the fact that my relatives belonged to ZANU PF.
Young as I was, I stood in the voting queue in 1980 at Dzandura School thinking that a miracle would happen and be allowed to vote, but that was not to be.
Anyway what everybody yearned for, independence, was achieved with ZANU PF garnering 1,2 million votes translating to 57 seats in Parliament.
Despite some of the lighter moments during a lull in gunfire, war is generally characterised by pain, hunger, injury and deaths.
If one were given an appetising meal when guns were blazing, one most probably lost appetite and ended up with a running stomach.
I once did that only to discover that the sound of gunfire was 10km away.
So to those who talk nonsense, my message is ‘war is not a picnic’.
One could spend the whole day running on an empty stomach, hiding in dangerous animal infested mountains and forests or even cross flooded rivers fully clothed.
Therefore to any ex-comrade, who might remember the above events, let us get in touch and reminisce those hey days.
Our freedom did not come on a silver platter.

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