The story of Cde Zvigowanisei Michael, aka Cde Tambai Mabhunu

IT was a typical day; the sun rose brightly and I was relaxed with fellow comrades who I operated alongside in the Nehanda Sector at our base in Bocha.
The war was at its peak, with many areas around the country turned liberated zones or no-go areas for Rhodies.
The Rhodesians were overstretched, forcing boys barely out of secondary school to join the war while ZANLA and ZIPRA training bases were finding it difficult to accommodate the numbers of people who wanted to be militarily trained to dislodge the Ian Smith regime.
By 1978, I was battle-hardened.
One day in April 1978, we were based on a mountain with Cdes Chipiko, One Day Zvandasara, our Sectorial Commander, and Obediah Kashiri, among others.
All in all, we were nine.
As we sat chatting, I had this feeling of uneasiness that I could not shake off.
Little did I know that on the opposite mountain, the enemy was plotting our demise.
Our presence was known to the enemy; we had been sold out.
At around midday, as the medical officer, I began doing rounds checking out the condition of the comrades.
Previously I had been tipped by the villagers that the Rhodesian forces were looking for a comrade by the name Tambai Mabhunu, a medic ‘terrorist’.
It was around 3pm when a Rhodesian airforce spotter plane, or Arumanya as it was popularly known during the struggle, flew by and we knew an attack was coming.
These were small planes sent by the enemy for surveillance purposes before hitting the target.
The Rhodesian forces camped on the opposite mountain had been communicating with their airforce.
Later we heard deep growling sounds that came in echoes.
These were sounds of ‘the birds’ as we called the helicopters.
We later learnt the soldiers had gathered information about our base when two mujibhas whom we had sent for reconnaissance to Gomo reDema had been captured, tortured and surrendered all the information to the enemy.
So we found ourselves about to get into the belly of the enemy.
But we were not novices at war.
And it was not the first time we were having an encounter with helicopters.
The Rhodies began firing at us.
We took cover.
Cdes Obediah, Kashiri and I took cover in a rock cleft.
We remained calm despite the heavy fire; we simply avoided running.
A hidden figure was always problematic for the helicopters.
It was when one was in motion that he/she became an easy target.
I had a semi-automatic machine gun and a bag containing medicines, grenades and loaded magazines.
The RF groundforce, which had been watching all our movements since morning, were getting closer.
We returned fire, spiritedly.
If they thought we would be a walkover, they were mistaken.
We had been under similar conditions and had survived to talk about it; this would be no different.
We were going to survive.
We did not panic.
And we followed, to the letter, all the rules of guerilla warfare in such a situation.
This obviously frustrated the Rhodies who had hoped we would panic and be open game.
We did not make their task any easier.
Bullets hit the sides of the rock in whose cleft we had sought cover.
However, we were not deterred and we ferociously returned fire.
Suddenly, I was hit by a bullet on my knee.
The fragments are still in my leg today.
I took out a grenade and hurled it towards the direction of the Rhodesians.
There was a loud sound, screams and silence.
I believed I had done my part in crippling the enemy.
But they kept advancing and we kept firing, fighting back; we were in no mood to concede any ground.
We knew that if we could hold them until dark, we would not be wiped out.
Rhodesians had never mastered the art of fighting during the night.
And surely, when night began to fall, fire ceased and the helicopters began to retreat to their base.
We remained in the rock cleft for some time, just to make sure.
As I was unable to walk, two chimbwidos took turns to carry me on their backs until we reached the village.
The villagers could not believe we had survived.
By 1978, we had become ‘dogs of war’, that is why in the following year 1979, the Rhodesians surrendered and called for talks — they could not stand the heat.
Compiled by Fidelis Manyange