AFTER the situation had returned to normal early August 1978, redeployment was swift and broke up existing sections.
It was necessary to blend experience with forces fresh from training.

The second intake at Nachingwea, Tanzania, codenamed Fanya Haraka (Swahili for hurry up) was deployed as the uproar died down.
Robert Ndlovu’s section could not escape this restructuring.
Sauso, the PC was moved to work with Gondo deep in the farms between Rusape and Headlands.
This was the area adjacent to the Harare-Rusape road.
Ideally, penetration was aimed at crossing the road going into Tanda communal lands.
Surrounded by white farms, this was the real battlefront.
Bazooka Chivhuno was made a seguranca and moved to the Dziwa/Manjoro area.
Mhuru became a political commissar in the Nyaduve/St Barbara’s area.
Along with Nobody I was sent to Batsirai’s section in the Upper Nyatande/Nyakuima area.
Mission — to lay mines on the Nyabadza-Rugoi road.
Dingaan was recalled to the rear.
These promotions were a recognition of the experience and efficiency of the unit.
Ndlovu received new cadres, who included Patts Zvenyika, a contemporary of Sauso, July, Chimurenga and several others from Fanya Haraka intake.
He still remained in the Mawango area.
This was the end of my golden days in Chimurenga.
After that, Chimurenga became a real struggle.
We all had a clear sense of purpose with a high level of self discipline which made us an efficient fighting unit that was part of the cutting edge of Makoni detachment.
We were the envy of many units in our area.
The record of our operations in the 12 months between August 1977 and July 1978 speaks for itself.
I never saw Ndlovu with a stick to beat povo or comrades.
This is not to say he was not stern or tough with us.
He was, but he was a motivator, a natural leader who always sought the best out of his followers in a positive manner.
Where many led from the middle or from the rear, Ndlovu led from the front.
He was always the first to go into action.
After action there was time to be merry amidst all the gunsmoke.
He ensured all comrades were well supplied with clothing and other basic needs.
It is only human nature to realise the value of a person when you are no longer with him and I realised this when I moved to Batsirai’s section.
The latter was an average leader, but never had that sharp edge, the daring spirit of a Nguni warrior that I saw in Ndlovu.
At least Batsirai was gentle with the povo.
Some months after redeployment, I received a letter from Mhuru.
It was a pleasure to read the short note with a childish scrawl.
I would place the writer at Grade Five or Six.
The letter made my day.
I was so excited and confessed it to a confidante.
I have seen many students pass through my hands in better conditions over the years, but teaching Mhuru to read and write remains my greatest achievement.
What makes it significant is, to use Professor Maurice Vambe’s metaphor on Amilcar Cabral, “We studied as we fought, and fought as we studied.”
I give the credit to Ndlovu.
He created a climate in which we could pursue matters cerebral amidst gunfire and bombs.
I have more confessions to make at this point.
In my tenure with Ndlovu we were never caught in a surprise attack by the enemy yet we were an advance unit that criss-crossed the farms in the Kriste Mambo area far from the safety of the Makoni communal lands.
In my 30 consecutive months in combat, I was never subjected to the fire of a machine gun from a Bell helicopter: The ultimate weapon in the Rhodesian arsenal.
Yet time and again I saw it fly past going into action against my fellow comrades elsewhere.
My first 12 months in combat in Ndlovu’s unit shaped my conduct for the rest of the war.
I unwittingly drew many lessons, which I only realise now in the wisdom of age and hindsight.
Ndlovu was a remarkable man.
I was never to encounter such efficiency, such high morale, such unity again as I moved to other units as we continued to wage the struggle.
Telling this story is a confession, a carthasis, coming to terms with gaps in a past that many of my contemporaries still fail to understand.
I am trying to do Ndlovu justice that I have failed to do over the years.
Of those who remember Ndlovu and are living possibly, Sauso, Fife and Tom Chigaro could enrich this narrative.
The story of Ndlovu is one that we meet in every area of
the country, where comrades fought and died. In our euphoria and excitement of liberation we have forgotten these heroes.
Next week I will conclude
the story with my salaam yamwisho (Swahili for last salute) to the man who carved his own place in the history of our struggle.