A colleague of mine who helped me connect with Amos Nobele shared some very bad news with me today. Late last year Amos died in a car accident. He was riding in a taxi when it crashed.
One of the reasons I stopped posting Amos’ story was because I needed additional information from the notes that he provided. My colleague couldn’t get hold of him; and later found out he was dead.
I am however going to finish the rest of the story based on the notes and diary entries I have. There are some gaps in it, but with his passing, I will just have to work around them.
I still think that Amos'story has to be told.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Petty tyrannies
In 1978, my school won the Sipolilo Choir Competition. The competition was held almost twenty kilometres away from our home.
We were very excited on the journey home, but our joy was short-lived. When we were arrived at the school with the trophy, we found the school surrounded by Ian Smith’s Rhodesian army.
We were all forced in our rural council hall for screening. All the pupils found with marks on their shoulders or those who seemed to be big enough to fight taken for questioning and beating. The assumption was that some of the students were already part of the liberation army, and with enough torture, information could be extracted from them.
We witnessed many such incidents in the following weeks and months. Our people were politicised by the so called liberators, the school was closed and burnt down. Bases were organised and propaganda was preached in these gatherings. Buildings were destroyed in most growth points.
One Friday afternoon, an armed robbery was done at a place called Mudariki Pass and more than three businesses were robbed of their cash. The robbery was done by the liberation soldiers.
The soldiers showed up to intervene, but the liberation army must have known they were because they were very well prepared for them. My sister was killed in the cross-fire. She was in secondary school. Watching her die, I vowed to avenge her one day.
All of us who witnessed the ambush we were taken to forced labour camp for about three months. The food was bad. We were given a tin of beans and thick porridge only at supper.
Life became very difficult in the rural areas and around commercial farms. The battle was at hand.
Many armoured forces were in our area, Zanla forces, Zipra forces, R.A.R for Smith, Pfumo Revanhu for Muzorewa (Bishop). Zanla forces were the most feared and respected army under the leadership of Robert Mogabe. They were full of politics and people were taught propaganda in bases against Smith, Zipras and Pfumo Revanhu forces.
People started hurting whites and their descendants and everyone focused their minds on supporting the Zanla forces in Mozambique. I wanted to join the liberation struggle, because only children under 10 years were spared by both armies. But I had to wait, and it was only when I was fourteen that I would eventually begin operating as a war collaborator.
We were very excited on the journey home, but our joy was short-lived. When we were arrived at the school with the trophy, we found the school surrounded by Ian Smith’s Rhodesian army.
We were all forced in our rural council hall for screening. All the pupils found with marks on their shoulders or those who seemed to be big enough to fight taken for questioning and beating. The assumption was that some of the students were already part of the liberation army, and with enough torture, information could be extracted from them.
We witnessed many such incidents in the following weeks and months. Our people were politicised by the so called liberators, the school was closed and burnt down. Bases were organised and propaganda was preached in these gatherings. Buildings were destroyed in most growth points.
One Friday afternoon, an armed robbery was done at a place called Mudariki Pass and more than three businesses were robbed of their cash. The robbery was done by the liberation soldiers.
The soldiers showed up to intervene, but the liberation army must have known they were because they were very well prepared for them. My sister was killed in the cross-fire. She was in secondary school. Watching her die, I vowed to avenge her one day.
All of us who witnessed the ambush we were taken to forced labour camp for about three months. The food was bad. We were given a tin of beans and thick porridge only at supper.
Life became very difficult in the rural areas and around commercial farms. The battle was at hand.
Many armoured forces were in our area, Zanla forces, Zipra forces, R.A.R for Smith, Pfumo Revanhu for Muzorewa (Bishop). Zanla forces were the most feared and respected army under the leadership of Robert Mogabe. They were full of politics and people were taught propaganda in bases against Smith, Zipras and Pfumo Revanhu forces.
People started hurting whites and their descendants and everyone focused their minds on supporting the Zanla forces in Mozambique. I wanted to join the liberation struggle, because only children under 10 years were spared by both armies. But I had to wait, and it was only when I was fourteen that I would eventually begin operating as a war collaborator.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Dark times begin
In December 1973, my mother abandoned me and my brothers Bartholomew and Abraham. My father was not there – I think he was travelling spreading the Christian gospel all over the continent.
Our eldest brother Norman, who worked in Bulawayo, came and took all his belongings. He was moving out of our home permanently, to set up his own home in Sipililo. Mother left with him.
Soon after, it dawned on Bartholomew and Abraham that we were on our own. They decided to leave home too. They sold the chickens we had to raise the bus fare to follow mother to Guruve.
I was left alone in our home without anyone to look after me. My Aunt Ruth, who lived nearby our home, refused for me to live with her. No one bought me groceries.
I lived on wild fruits and fruits from the orchard, took care of our livestock and went to school, pretending that life were normal. I became a beggar among my own people.
Sometimes Aunt Ruth would call me to her house to offer me a plate of fresh food when she was in a good mood. It was almost a year before Grandma Bassi realised that I was living alone. She suggested that I live with her in her house. But life with her was no better –she beat me and neglected me.
Finally, my grandfather said it would be better if I want to my mother in Guruve. I left for Guruve in August 1976. It was the first time I saw my mother since her departure in 1973.
[Note from Damaria: I think more explanations are needed as to the family situation. Issues like why the mother left, why the other kids were left alone. And what happened to the girls? Gaps like this are a major reason I asked my colleague to interview Amos, so we can include more detail for context.]
My life became normal again – I was living with my mother, and we used to go to church for mid-week services and Sunday services.
I was just about to get comfortable when we began to receive messages that war was already in our boundaries.
The Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army (ZANLA), a militant wing of the Zimbabwe African National Union was using Kanyemba in Mashonaland West as their entry point.
The Zimbabwe People's Revolutionary Army (ZIPRA), formed during the 1960s by the nationalist leader Jason Moyo, the sometime deputy of Joshua Nkomo was using Kazungula in Mashonaland West as their entry point.
These armies were coming from Mozambique and Zambia respectively. Land mines were planted mainly in major roads. Young boys and girls in village were rounded up and forced to provide labour in white farms. We were trapped on all sides.
Our eldest brother Norman, who worked in Bulawayo, came and took all his belongings. He was moving out of our home permanently, to set up his own home in Sipililo. Mother left with him.
Soon after, it dawned on Bartholomew and Abraham that we were on our own. They decided to leave home too. They sold the chickens we had to raise the bus fare to follow mother to Guruve.
I was left alone in our home without anyone to look after me. My Aunt Ruth, who lived nearby our home, refused for me to live with her. No one bought me groceries.
I lived on wild fruits and fruits from the orchard, took care of our livestock and went to school, pretending that life were normal. I became a beggar among my own people.
Sometimes Aunt Ruth would call me to her house to offer me a plate of fresh food when she was in a good mood. It was almost a year before Grandma Bassi realised that I was living alone. She suggested that I live with her in her house. But life with her was no better –she beat me and neglected me.
Finally, my grandfather said it would be better if I want to my mother in Guruve. I left for Guruve in August 1976. It was the first time I saw my mother since her departure in 1973.
[Note from Damaria: I think more explanations are needed as to the family situation. Issues like why the mother left, why the other kids were left alone. And what happened to the girls? Gaps like this are a major reason I asked my colleague to interview Amos, so we can include more detail for context.]
My life became normal again – I was living with my mother, and we used to go to church for mid-week services and Sunday services.
I was just about to get comfortable when we began to receive messages that war was already in our boundaries.
The Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army (ZANLA), a militant wing of the Zimbabwe African National Union was using Kanyemba in Mashonaland West as their entry point.
The Zimbabwe People's Revolutionary Army (ZIPRA), formed during the 1960s by the nationalist leader Jason Moyo, the sometime deputy of Joshua Nkomo was using Kazungula in Mashonaland West as their entry point.
These armies were coming from Mozambique and Zambia respectively. Land mines were planted mainly in major roads. Young boys and girls in village were rounded up and forced to provide labour in white farms. We were trapped on all sides.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
The 7 years of plenty
I was born in Chegutu at the Chegutu general hospital, on the 4th of September 1963. I was the sixth born in the family of eight children, five boys and three girls.
My family clan are the descends of Zvimba chieftanship in Mashonaland West, Zezuru as our tribe.
My father and my mother devoted their lives in Christian worshiping, interceding for their family. Besides worshiping, they also attend to their garden and fields.
My family members are Phoebe, Norman, the late Ennita, the late Bartholomew, Abraham, Babra, Shupiko and myself.
When I was born in Chegutu, mother told me that I was born ill, with a big hole on the side of my stomach and it took twenty one days to be breast feed. She always recommended the white doctor who oversaw my speedy recovery to all her friends and relatives.
After coming out of the hospital I was nurtured in Chegutu, Kadoma and Zvimba. When I was around four years, I would travel with my grandma to visit her brothers in the farming areas of Msengezi.
I grew up used to all different types of environments -village type of living, town dwelling and farming life.
In our area the land was very rich. In the forest, and along the rivers we could see all types of wild fruits and it was a wetland were barley and rice were grown. The main stable crop was maize Bapoko, groundnuts and many more.
In the village we had an orchard were fruits were grown. Even today these fruits are being sold in towns around our area. In livestock we had everything.
I loved going fishing with my cousins, who used to carry me to Msengezi and Karoi rivers to catch fish. They usual ly used the fish traps and nets and we always had a big catch to take home. We were the most fortunate people.
White people used to come from as far as the United States of America, and they would creen Biblical films at our home.
My father was very energetic and gifted in singing. He was very popular among the people, and he used to travel all over Africa, preaching, singing and spreading the Gospel.
My family clan are the descends of Zvimba chieftanship in Mashonaland West, Zezuru as our tribe.
My father and my mother devoted their lives in Christian worshiping, interceding for their family. Besides worshiping, they also attend to their garden and fields.
My family members are Phoebe, Norman, the late Ennita, the late Bartholomew, Abraham, Babra, Shupiko and myself.
When I was born in Chegutu, mother told me that I was born ill, with a big hole on the side of my stomach and it took twenty one days to be breast feed. She always recommended the white doctor who oversaw my speedy recovery to all her friends and relatives.
After coming out of the hospital I was nurtured in Chegutu, Kadoma and Zvimba. When I was around four years, I would travel with my grandma to visit her brothers in the farming areas of Msengezi.
I grew up used to all different types of environments -village type of living, town dwelling and farming life.
In our area the land was very rich. In the forest, and along the rivers we could see all types of wild fruits and it was a wetland were barley and rice were grown. The main stable crop was maize Bapoko, groundnuts and many more.
In the village we had an orchard were fruits were grown. Even today these fruits are being sold in towns around our area. In livestock we had everything.
I loved going fishing with my cousins, who used to carry me to Msengezi and Karoi rivers to catch fish. They usual ly used the fish traps and nets and we always had a big catch to take home. We were the most fortunate people.
White people used to come from as far as the United States of America, and they would creen Biblical films at our home.
My father was very energetic and gifted in singing. He was very popular among the people, and he used to travel all over Africa, preaching, singing and spreading the Gospel.
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