By Cde Bernadino Muvadi

I WAS 13 years when I began working with ZANLA cadres in Zimuto, Masvingo.
Having been told that I was too young to go for military training by one Cde Tawanda who was detachment commander, he told me that I would be useful as a mujibha.
My main duty was that of an eye and leg.
The freedom fighters used to send us on various errands and we would do exactly as they said.
I used to be successful on my missions, but one day I ran out of luck.
My name is Bernardino Muvadi and I was born in 1963 in Zimuto, Masvingo.
As a mujibha I started operating with freedom fighters in 1977 with Cde Tsuro, Cde Tawanda Muhondo and Cde Separayi among others.
I will never forget 1979 when I was shot by Rhodesian soldiers.
I was young, but I still remember that incident because it was frightening and painful.
It was in the mid-May 1979 when I was chosen together with other six mujibhas and two ZANLA guerrillas to go to Nemarundwi Village.
We were sent to invite the villagers in Nemarundwi Village to a pungwe meeting in Chivase Village.
I was feeling tired and thought something terrible was going to happen because I kept having this irritable sensation on my left eye, something which according to my superstitious grandmother was a sign of sorrow ahead.
It was an hour’s journey, but we arrived at Nemarundwi Village in about 45 minutes.
My heart was pounding all the way.
I remember I had no jersey and was barefooted.
We knocked door to door inviting people to the pungwe.
As if to confirm my fear, the worst happened, but it would only a moment later.
As we knocked on one door, we bumped into Auxiliary soldiers and Selous Scouts who were hiding in the hut, but we didn’t recognise them because they were putting on civilian clothes.
We had already managed to gather about 50 villagers before we began tracking back to the scheduled pungwe at Chivase Village.
We were moving in three groups and I was in the group that was at the front.
After we had walked for about 15 minutes, I noticed some strangers wearing civilian clothes and holding rifles.
Before I had even screamed I was shot on my left hand and left thigh.
I lost conscience, but from a distance I could hear gunshots.
I only gained consciousness in the middle of a grave yard.
I was later told that my uncle, Augustine had ferried me to this place for safety.
Mu uncle later told me how he had managed to escape with me on his back.
I was relieved when he told me that all my fellow collaborators had escaped.
I was the only person injured and had bled excessively and in an effort to stop the bleeding, my uncle tore his shirt and bandaged my wounds.
He then carried me on his back and took me to the village.
He took me to my aunt who stayed close to Saint Peters Roman Catholic church which was nearby the graveyard.
He left me under the custody of my aunt and went home to give a report.
It was now difficult to walk in the dark because the Rhodesians were patrolling, but my uncle returned with his brother Titus.
They took me to Kapota Mission and we arrived at the hospital at around 3am.
The nurse on duty was very helpful as she cleaned my wounds and stopped the bleeding
I remember around 5am I was driven in an ambulance to Masvingo General Hospital for further treatment.
This is one experience during the liberation struggle that I will never forget because to date I have the gunshot wounds.
I was and is still prepared to die for Zimbabwe.