The story of Cde Chalmers Wilbert Sate aka Tauya Wilbert Tichatonga

HAD the Rhodesian security forces not intensified their sporadic attacks into our territory inside Mozambique, perhaps their demise could have taken a while longer.
Owing to the incessant raids on our bases in Mozambique, Cde Robert Mugabe, in consultation with the High Command, then ordered us at the rear to report to the front for duty as a matter of urgency.
I had trained at Tembwe Base One and had remained there as an instructor to the new recruits under the tutelage of Cde Hiplevel Karakadzai.
In the camps food was scarce, while ‘jiggers’, those sand flea parasites, were abundant, thus operating from the home end was surely a welcome relief.
We were dispatched in groups.
And for each group was a specific assignment to sabotage a strategic infrastructural point in Salisbury. That was in February 1978.
There was a group to sabotage the Shell Depot, a squad for the airport, another for the Salisbury Omnibus Company depot in Belvedere, while mine had the Thermal Power Station as our primary target.
That particular mission was a potential mine-field as we had to skirt curfews, barricades and roadblocks all the way from Nyamapanda Border Post.
Along the way, we sought spiritual guidance from local spirit mediums. My company boasted eight dare-devil cadres namely, Shumba, the commander; Shelton Chemunzwa (an albino), whose prowess as a political commissar was peerless; Jube Kanda; Jazzman Masango; Charlie; Diamond; Nicholas Zvenyika and myself Tauya Wilbert Tichatonga.
Besides receiving the basic military training for six months, members of my company had done a post-training course in military engineering.
Throughout the tricky and painstaking journey which took over a week to accomplish, we mobilised the people necessary for the success of our mission.
We wound up at Juru Growth Point in Goromonzi where we set up a political structure, complete with its executive committee, then moved to Cde Elijah’s home, a white but staunch ZANLA supporter, who resided in Chisipite.
He harboured us for the night and the following day we carried out some reconnaissance.
We had enough weapons to cause extensive damage.
By 1978 we had evolved into an efficient fighting force, and the Rhodesians were on their back foot.
We were now taking the war out of the bush to the doorstep of the Rhodesians.
To circumvent the curfew time frame, we settled on carrying out our mission before 8pm.
We proceeded to the thermal station in the Coventry area.
We set up explosives and when they went off, we opened fire in the area.
I lobbed three successive shells into the complex and there was a power outage.
There was a return of fire from the complex.
We jumped into our vehicle and sped off at high speed, we had hit our target.
We had no intention of being captured, all we wanted now was to get out of the city limits as fast as possible.
What infuriated the Rhodesians more than anything was being hit and failing to capture any ‘terrorist’; even capturing a single guerilla to give them satisfaction.
Thus the Rhodies pursued us with a dogged determination.
In the hot-pursuit, we lost our bearings and suddenly we saw a signpost reading ‘Glen Norah’.
We swiftly swerved back towards the city; there was no way we would endanger the lives of the masses.
The car chase was electric; we swerved, veered off, got back onto the road without stopping, thanks to our ‘super’ driver.
We discovered that our pursuers were hesitant to get closer to us, they were afraid.
We soon found ourselves in Marlborough along Old Mazowe Road and turned into a dirt road and sped on.
We noted a sign reading: NO THROUGH ROAD, and straight we drove and we abandoned the car.
I brandished my rocket launcher and faced the enemy.
The enemy halted and from a safe distance monitored our abandoned vehicle.
We ran into the adjacent fields and attacked the Rhodies from the flanks.
It was a successful mission where we did not suffer any casualties.
We disappeared into the night.
The Rhodesians, we knew, would be livid.
And people woke up to screaming headlines that five ‘terrorists’ had been killed in the city.
We laughed off the headline in the comfort of Goromonzi.
Compiled by Richard Khosa