The story of Cde Chipo Muzembi

ONE of my father’s eyes was gorged out by Rhodesians during the liberation struggle.
I became a participant in the liberation struggle when I was 14 years old in my home area of Dewedzo, Makoni District, Rusape.
As a young collaborator (chimbwido) our main duties were cooking, delivering food and information to the guerillas, vanamukoma.
I worked with Norman Mahachi, Andrew Muzembi, Lucia Zinzunde, Tsitsi Nhemiya, Loise Makamure, Tsitsi Kunaka and Emily Muzembi.
We worked with many ZANLA guerillas who came in groups usually of about six and would operate in the area for a few months and then leave to be replaced by other units.
The comrades I assisted, who I still vividly recall, include Cdes Choda, Tichatonga Mabhunu, Zvesezvese and Tito.
In 1978, at the peak of the war, when the whiteman intensely felt the heat, I almost joined the ancestors in the yonder world.
I will never forget the day that remains one of the most horrific I have ever experienced.
I missed death by a whisker.
We woke up early around 4am to fetch water and firewood.
We always woke up early to avoid Rhodesian soldiers.
In the company of Loise Makamure, Tsitsi Nhemiya and my cousin-sister Emily Muzembi, we went to Kasipiti River.
We fetched water without incident and took it to my father’s homestead where we would prepare food for vanamukoma.
Done with fetching water, we headed for Chipango Mountain to collect firewood.
We were joined by Andrew Muzembi and Norman Mahachi.
Quietly we walked in single file to the mountain which was about four kilometres away.
On our way, Muzembi and Mahachi heard Rhodesian soldiers talking and gave us the signal for danger.
We quietly changed direction and went to Gute where one of the comrades, Tanyanyiwa Mabhunu, who had been injured in a battle with the Rhodies, was hiding, recuperating, before he returned to Mozambique for proper treatment.
It was a base hidden in a thicket of mukute trees on the banks of Kasipiti River.
Lucia, who was trailing behind us, walked into the Rhodies.
And her horrible ordeal at the hands of the Rhodesians began.
She was captured and they began to torture her seeking information regarding the whereabouts of guerillas in the area.
Lucia was taken to Chiwetu Rest Camp, the infamous Rhodesian base where many perished.
Once at the infamous camp, death would be a most welcome relief.
Lucia held on until a time she thought we would have moved the injured comrade from the base and then gave the Rhodesian soldiers the information about the Gute Base.
But it did not cross our minds that Lucia would be captured.
We had not moved base.
Muzembi even advised us to prepare food at the base believing that it was more secure than our homes as the Rhodesians we had evaded would end up in the village.
At around nine o’clock while we cooked sadza the Rhodesians attacked.
That Thursday morning in April, I thought my end had come.
The Rhodesians started firing into the thicket and so thick was it that we could not see the positions of the Rhodies.
We just felt the venom of their guns coming from almost all angles.
Cde Tanyanyiwa instructed us to escape.
This was my first time to be in such a situation.
My aunt, who was now a veteran and survivor of such surprise attacks, quickly took command of the situation and began belting out instructions in the midst of the din of gunfire.
She instructed us to go down and start crawling towards the river.
On our bellies we slithered, escaping a veld fire.
In no time the gunfire was behind us and we were in the reeds of Kasipiti River.
The gunfire did not last long as there were no fighters to return fire other than the injured comrade.
We got home safely, but Cde Tanyanyiwa perished in the attack.
My mother thought it best that we remain home.
After two hours, a Land Rover drove into our homestead.
It had three Rhodesian African Rifle soldiers and one white Rhodesian soldier whose face was painted black.
With the Rhodesian was a sellout covered by a blanket so that we could not identify him.
His instruction was to listen to the voice of my father and confirm whether he was one of the leading persons in feeding the guerillas.
He confirmed it was him by mooing like a cow when he heard his voice.
My father was thoroughly beaten while we watched.
Afterwards he was taken to Chiwetu and we thought that was his end.
He spent a fortnight at the infamous camp being tortured everyday.
Fortunately, he came back home, but had lost one of his eyes.
He said it was gorged out during interrogation.
Compiled by Emergencey Mwale-Kamtande