By Sydney Mukwenje

AT the age of 13, in 1977, I had already appreciated the significance of the liberation struggle.
I recall a day in 1972 when I was eight years old in Kagona Village, Matanhire, by then in Seke.
I was at that time staying with my great-grandmother who passed away in 1996 at the age of 106.
Cattle in Dzandura, Mubonderi, Mushangwe, Charakupa and many other villages were dipped every Monday.
However, ours were not dipped as per that custom and the District Commissioner at Dema on receiving a report of absentees quickly dispatched his team of policemen- those pure ‘Majoni’ clad in short tunic, shiny red knee height leggings and helmets and on motor bikes.
They arrived around 10 am and started pushing and shoving my poor and helpless Ambuya demanding $26 as spot fine.
They were also shouting, “Hey old lady move fast, do not waste our time, we want that money immediately and we want to go!”
That white men’s brutality has remained etched in my mind to date.
So it became easy after being politicised to appreciate the aims and objectives of the liberation struggle.
Of course in 1972 at the age of eight, stories of Altena Farm in Centenary having been attacked and children at St. Albert’s School having been abducted by ‘terrorists’ were broadcast by the then Rhodesia Broadcasting Corporation, but at that age it did not make much sense to me.
After all, the events had happened about 400 kilometres away from Seke so there was no need to panic.
We were also made to understand that the brutality was being perpetrated by ‘terrorists; (magandanga), ‘those bush people who are dirty red-eyed and have grassy dreadlocks or thorny unkempt hair who also survive on human flesh’.
So we simply compared them to a Whiteman called ‘Chesarand’ whom we were told used to abduct people, cut their limbs, feed them fat, kill them and make tinned ‘beef’ out of their flesh.
We were also told to be wary of such people when looking for stray cattle as they could miraculously appear and feed themselves fat upon our flesh.
One night in 1976, I was surprised to be part of a gathering being mentored politically by men who were smart and heavily armed with modern weapons.
Those men were also capable of speaking fluent English.
One of them said to his colleague who was the political commissar, “…just tell them briefly and precisely, we want them to go back home a bit early before they go to their fields to prepare us food”.
That was in total contrast to what we used to hear about them; that they were savages who, like stone age people, fought with bows and arrows- indeed a stupid Whiteman’s propaganda.
In early February 1977, we woke up to the sound of heavy gunfire, the sky being lit up by gunfire, bombs booming, army helicopters crisscrossing the sky just a few metres above our villages.
The day was on a Monday morning and I had just started doing Grade Seven at St. Xavier, Chikumbu Primary School.
That small jet fighter popularly called Bombdiara or Magumba/Makuhwa continued circling high above and occasionally dropping some bombs off target followed by some other jet fighters.
The battle was taking place in thickets and mountains on both sides of Odzi River beyond Tsaha, Chiremba, Hakuziwi, Mukoyi and Mukombero villages in Mutasa in Manicaland in what is now called Osborne Dam area or what was commonly known as kwaNyatande.
One of the ZANLA forces commanders during that battle was the late Cde Gweje.
I did not know him then until 2008 when I met him in Chitungwiza (may his soul rest in peace).
The battle raged on until around 10 in the morning.
The Rhodesians suffered heavy casualties as evidenced by Red Cross helicopters that were continuously flashing red lights, landing and taking off.
During that night vigil (pungwe) we had been told that parents should start withdrawing their children from school as the money being paid as school fees was being used to prop up the Smith regime.
That message had not yet sunk into our parents’ minds only to do so after that Chiremba Battle (as it is still known up to today).
The comrades traversed the countryside in broad daylight and ransacked several schools and asked the teachers to leave as the real war had now begun.
They normally moved at night to avoid detection by the enemy.
All schools were closed.
That was when everybody realised that the comrades meant serious business.
To be continued