HomeOld_PostsRemembering Pasichigare attack: Part Three...reunited with the comrades at last

Remembering Pasichigare attack: Part Three…reunited with the comrades at last

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I STARTED walking.
It was barely light, it was cold, but fortunately the grass was sparse, not so tall and not so thick.
I heard some barking once again, reminding me that the Rhodesians and their dogs could not be far off, but I could not allow myself to panic because that would rob me of all strength, so I just concentrated on walking as fast as I could.
My idea was to get as far away as possible from the camp, and to find the rest of the comrades soonest.
I had been walking for approximately five hours when I found myself at the banks of Mudzingadzi River.
Though that was upstream, I was still not too far from the camp and so I was extremely upset with myself that I was not too far away from the camp — this was a prescription for disaster.
Opposite where I stood in the far distance, I could see a tall palm tree.
I decided to walk towards that palm tree.
As long as I was going towards the palm tree, I was going in the opposite direction to where the camp was.
I resolutely walked towards that palm tree.
At that time I did not feel hungry or tired, but later I started picking on the tender leaves of the musekesa tree and chewing and swallowing the juice to relieve hunger pangs.
It was a long walk, but in the end, I won.
I got to the palm tree at 1pm.
I felt relieved because I knew I had now put so much distance between me and the camp.
Now to find the others?
I turned west, it was a gut feeling, I think.
Soon after, I heard a cock crow in the general direction in which I had started walking.
I felt encouraged and said: Let me start walking towards the crowing.
I was invigorated, I increased my pace and the cock did not let me down.
At intervals it would crow confirming that I was going in the correct direction, towards it.
As the day wore on, the crowing grew louder, sounded nearer and nearer.
But I was also racing against time.
The sun was setting and I had not caught up with the cock.
I became worried that I would complete a second day without catching up with the others or with any people.
Would I catch up with the other comrades?
What if they moved to another area far away before I caught up with them?
I walked faster and faster.
Still following the crowing cock, I got to the banks of the Mudzingadzi River just as the sun was setting. This time I was not worried about the river because I knew I was very far away from the camp.
The first thing I did when I got to the river was to drink water.
I was very thirsty and then I worried about crossing the river before it got dark.
As if to encourage me, the cock kept crowing so close.
The river was shallow, so that was not the problem. The challenge was a thick wall of reeds.
Apart from my traumatic fear of snakes possibly lurking in the reeds, the wall of reeds was impenetrable, one would need a panga to cut through the reeds to cross.
I started parting the reeds with my hands and creating a path through the reeds.
The reeds were very prickly and they cut my hands, but the light was fading and I had to go through.
My feet were unsteady in the reeds, the ankles were cut over and over again, but I kept going, I didn’t think about the snakes.
The field of reeds was endless.
I kept ploughing through, but it seemed endless.
I was in this endless wall of reeds for about 30 minutes.
The crow did not give up on me, it kept crowing, kept me going.
Finally I emerged from the reeds to find myself in a field.
A few metres ahead of me was an anthill and a little further, I could make out the roof of a hut.
By this time, it was almost dark and I hastened on, up from the valley, across the field, past the anthill and there, a few metres ahead of me was the most beautiful, the most blessed sight of my life.
A homestead, some huts and some people seated by the fire place talking among themselves, a perfect domestic scene.
I felt so relieved, normal again.
When I got to the fire, no-one said anything.
They simply created space for me to sit with them at the fire.
It was as if they had been expecting me; the way they just made way for me to sit side by side with them without a word.
I was in time for supper and they were eating sour sadza and rabbit meat.
They shared the sadza with me, no questions asked, no fuss, as if I was a member of the family who had just been out.
I felt so at home and of course the fire was perfect on this July evening.
The Mozambican family kept chatting among themselves without making me feel out of place.
I just relaxed and was at peace.
It was around 8pm when there was a huge explosion and a ball of fire rose into the sky.
The Mozambicans, as one, disappeared into the maize field and took cover among the maize stalks, me with them.
No-one said anything, I don’t think any of us breathed.
There was total silence.
I am not sure how long we were thus.
After some time, it was too quiet and I wondered what was happening.
I listened closely and suspected there was no-one else in the field.
When I emerged from the maize stalks I discovered the family seated by the fire as before, quietly chatting among themselves.
They still created space for me to sit by the fire with them, nothing was said.
We sat by the fire for some time before we retired for the night.
I slept in the kitchen with two other women.
One was a grown up woman, the other a young girl in her teens.
We slept around the fire which kept us warm that July night since all we had was a sack each for a blanket.
We kept the fire going throughout the night.
Whoever woke up would attend to it.
I fell asleep immediately due to fatigue, only to dream I was being chased by a helicopter.
The noise from the helicopter was unbearable as it got closer and closer and I woke up sweating.
I was relieved to find that it was only the burning firewood making the zinging noise which played into my recent experiences with the jet fighters.
I disrupted the zinging and went back to sleep.
The following morning, something had changed.
I could not walk, my legs were swollen and very painful and stiff.
The Mozambicans helped me to the fire.
I sat there trying to warm myself and they explained to me that they had contacted the comrades and some relatives would pass by and take me to where the comrades were.
Within a short time the relatives arrived.
I was given a stick to help me walk but it did not help.
I could not walk.
One of the relatives, a woman, carried me on her back and we left my sanctuary.
We had walked for about 30 minutes when, as we entered a ravine, there was a rapid exchange of words between the Mozambicans accompanying me and some people I could not see.
The unseen requested the password from the Mozambicans who quickly supplied the correct password and then the command ‘halt’ rang out and I knew that ZANLA had come for me.
I cannot describe the feeling.
From the ravine, the comrades emerged through the foliage, heavily armed.
They also had a stretcher and medical kits.
They were overjoyed.
They could not believe their eyes as they thought they would find a heavily ‘damaged’ Ropa (akasakadzwa namabhunu).
They thanked the Mozambicans who went their way. They had a thousand questions for me: “What happened Ropa?
“Where were you?
“We looked for you everywhere and so many search parties went looking for you but no trace, what happened?”
They kept asking me as I lay on the stretcher and they were busy examining me.
They could not believe there were no broken bones.
They carried me on the stretcher to their guarding position on the hilltop and we all feasted on some tinned pilchards in tomato sauce.
There was so much love, so much rejoicing.
When I had rested for a while, they took me to where the rest of the comrades were?
The joy, the love, was overwhelming and of course the questions; what happened, where, what?
The comrades were thrilled I was fine, but they could not believe I had escaped unscathed, there was wonderment in their eyes.
They could not believe I had drunk the water from the river, a ‘no’, ‘no’, since the enemy mostly poisons all water sources around its target.
I also learned there had been no dogs or paratroopers, it was just jackals barking but also that around 4pm on the day of the bombing, the enemy had come back to drop time bombs, one of which had gone off the night before at 8 pm.
As for me, I was dazed, it was incredible to be back in the fold and to be enfolded in so much love.
And at the back of my mind, however, I kept telling myself: ‘The struggle continues’!
No doubt Pasichigare will forever be etched in my mind.

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