A woman decides to go to war

13 Nov, 2016 - 00:11 0 Views

The Sunday Mail

In the third part of excerpts of the biography of Group Captain Sithabile Sibanda, aka Cde Ntombiyezizweni Mhlanga, she tells how she crosses into Botswana and then Zambia to begin training as a guerilla. Under the working title “A Woman’s Choice, The Untold Story of the ZPRA Women’s Brigade”, the biography was researched and written by Tjenesani Ntungakwa. Group Capt Sibanda has been awarded the Liberation Medal (1990), Independence Medal, Mozambique Campaign Medal (1991), Ten Years Service in the Air Force of Zimbabwe (2000), Long and Exemplary Medal after 15 years of service in the AFZ (2005), Sadc Medal of the DRC Campaign (2008), the United Nations Medal (2008) after serving in The Sudan under the United Nations Mission in Sudan.
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Evans Ndlovu and I were requested to be part of the bride’s entourage at some wedding. The bridegroom was Bright, a relative of mine. The wedding was to be held at Silobela on what was called Rhodes and Founders’ Day − an exclusive celebration by settlers of how they occupied my country.

It was celebrated in July and excited the Rhodesians. In principle, it was celebration of the genital mutilation of my nation by the forces of settler colonialism. We prepared for the wedding in Bulawayo though the venue was Silobela. There were three of us among the group who were very discreet about our intentions to leave Rhodesia.

Evans Ndlovu and others, including myself, began to prepare for the final departure from Rhodesia. We knew the risks involved; some had been shot in attempts to cross into Botswana, Mozambique or Zambia. There was no going back on our chosen path to join the armed struggle waged by Zapu.

It was if a spirit had taken control of the mind, tempered with our souls, and hardened one’s resolve for a free Zimbabwe. After the bride’s party, we headed back for Bulawayo in the company of my brother, Jimmy Ncube. When I got to Bulawayo, Evans and my sister-in-law, Juliet, joined me in the deliberations to cross into Botswana first, then into Zambia.

Juliet’s husband, who happened to be my cousin, had left for the armed struggle years earlier. We left for the Botswana frontier on August 25, 1977. According to the instructions given to us, we had to board the Ajay Motorways bus and the conductor would advise on what to do.

By the way, Ajay was among the public transporters that were very much visible on the rural routes in Rhodesia and seemed to have been strongly supportive of the guerillas.

There were several incidents of potential recruits abducted by Rhodesian Special Branch operatives while on their buses. On the bus, the attendant advised us that in the event that of a police roadblock, one had to feign illness. Such tricks had worked favourably for the many who had left before us. We did not have to carry any clothes or Rhodesian identity cards.

Having boarded on a Saturday morning, we sat on the back seat. The driver and his assistant were aware of the fact that we intended to go as far as Ramokgwebana River. I never felt afraid. There was a calmness that made me believe my decision was right.

Personally, I was prepared for the worst. The time had come for me to reclaim my country and chase Rhodesia into the sea. We did not pay for the trip. There were no army roadblocks and we disembarked towards Ramokgwebana. The Ajay crew showed us where to drop off, it must have been at Brunaberg.

I never got to know the area that well. We were advised to run as much as we could until we crossed into Botswana. From about sunset, we walked until we got to the sandy plains near Ramokgwebana River. We avoided the local homesteads, and it was not easy because the tennis shoes we had worn for the wedding wore out.

We must have got to Ramokgwebana at about 6am. It was full and roared like a wild beast. We had not slept and felt weary. For some hours, we slept, woke up, and followed the Ramokgwebana. The dangers of the Rhodesians patrolling the environs had been clearly spelt out to us.

After crossing, we arrived at the homestead of a chief in Botswana and he told us that some of our compatriots had crossed earlier amidst Rhodesian gunfire.

It was normal for such to take place and it cost the lives of my countrymen and women. However, our crossing had been without incident. The locals there phoned their police who came to take us to Selebi Phikwe. The Batswana knew that we crossed over with the intention to join the Zapu rear training camps in Zambia. Botswana was a transit point to Zambia or Mozambique.

The situation was dicey. Others found their way across the Zambezi, which was more dangerous in the sense that the Rhodesian aqua regiment was very active there. Some were eaten by lions, whilst many were waylaid by Rhodesian informers. The Botswana Police who drove us to Selebi Phikwe were quite friendly. They never asked any questions.

When we arrived at Selebi Phikwe, there was confusion. There were just too many of us there and it was crowded. I overheard some saying they had been there for months.

I was lucky, though. A plane bound for Zambia came in just a day after our arrival. It was my first time on an airplane and there were about 50 of us bound for Lusaka. The journey was too short for me to have a feel of the flying machine as we got to Zambia in no time.

We had come from all sorts of backgrounds and were grouped together in some heavy trucks at Lusaka Airport. That was when I realised that home was no longer a place near me; my family had become the comrades in the Zapu camps. I was taken to Zapu Victory Camp, which was about 50km south of Lusaka. At Victory Camp, codenamed VC, in Zapu, the situation was appalling.

It accommodated mostly women and there were too many of us without the appropriate ablution facilities. The relish for our sadza was just bad: hurriedly cooked dried vegetables without cooking oil. The large group of females recruited from Manama was also at VC.

There were some Zapu-trained personnel and a crop of elderly women and girls who had sneaked out of Rhodesia for their safety. VC was not a training facility, rather a refugee centre. I was there for a while and the daily routine involved exercises, especially the toyi-toyi.

According to what I heard, toyi-toyi was brought into Zapu military culture by guerillas trained in Algeria during the time of President Ben Bella.
The intimation was that toyi-toyi had some Arabic element to it. However, others said Toyi Toyi was a hill in East Africa.

In the mid ‘60s , Zapu had sent some of its cadres like Alfred Nikita Mangena , Harold Chirenda , Siwela and others to train at Cherchell Military Academy in Algeria.

They were tutored by mainly French-speaking Arab Instructors. In the morning they ran along the sea shores with one of them leading with slogans whilst the others echoed in response.

Toyi-toyi involved chanting by one person in a company and the rest responding by shouting back in agreement. For instance, the leading person could shout, “Yena UnNkomo ngumkhokheli,” which meant “Nkomo is the leader”. The group would echo back “Hau, hau” in affirmation. It would go on like that for as long as they were running.

It was also a way to manage breathing and enhanced fitness as well as being a morale boost. Among the trained female personnel at VC were Jane Ndlovu; Zegue, whose original name was Sonia Mlotshwa; Audrey; Grace Noko; and about eight others.

The name Zegue had been taken from Zapu’s Soviet-made anti-aircraft gun. Grace was part of the group trained in Tanzania at Morogoro during the days of the Zimbabwe Peoples’ Army. Zipa was the failed attempt at unifying Zapu and Zanu’s fighting forces around September 1976.

There were other competent female cadres in Zapu, like Mercy Pambayi and others. Sonia later served in the Zimbabwe National Army after Independence. During my stint at VC, I had not grasped some basic or working knowledge of the weaponry issued to Zapu’s military wing, the Zimbabwe Peoples’ Revolutionary Army.

As a matter of historical detail, ZPRA had been formalised at the climax of Zapu’s internal problems in 1971 after which James Chikerema left to form the Front for the Liberation of Zimbabwe. Zapu had an armed wing as early as the first guerilla attacks in Rhodesia; like the Zidube Ranch attack of the early ‘60s.

Before 1971, the armed wing in Zapu was secretively known as the Department of Special Affairs. However, at the time of the 1971 internal rift, the combatants in Zapu decided upon convening what was called the Congress of Militants.

At the convention, cadres settled upon coming up with a clearly drawn High Command structure, in which Alfred Rogers Nikita Mangena was in charge. It was from then that the acronym ZPRA became an accepted term in Zapu.

Zapu’s troubles were always explained in many versions, with some implicating tribalism in the whole fiasco. Whatever the case might have been, it was also on record that Chikerema had been blamed for allowing a British Granada Television crew into Zapu military camps in Zambia where they shot a documentary and aired it.

On the other hand, Chikerema was said to have sacked some in the Zapu leadership on the fact that he had been given the mandate by Joshua Nkomo himself, who was detained at Gonakudzingwa since 1964.

Anyway, after about four weeks we were taken from VC to Mkushi. Mkushi was an open bush veld with no infrastructure whatsoever. It was just an unfriendly forest. I could say we opened Mkushi to human habitation.

We must have arrived at Mkushi in September 1977. The total compliment at Mkushi from VC could have made two brigades. Among those who joined me were Ossie; Siyathemba; Chiratidzo Iris Mabuwa, whose pseudonym became Daughters Shumba; and many others.

At Mkushi we had male instructors like Castle Thuso; Moses Phinda, whose original name was Makwarimba; Billy Mzamo, the camp commander; Public, the commissar; and Makanyanga and Ntatshana, who were responsible for logistics.

Jane Ndlovu was deputy to Phinda (Makwarimba). Audrey was in administration and Themba was security. There were other instructors like Amos, Ticha and one whom we knew as Mariyapera, as well as Kumbirai.

Mariyapera shot himself during training. In ZPRA, the commissar had the responsibility of being the ideological guardian of the party. He or she had to ensure that the revolutionary philosophy of the Zimbabwe African Peoples’ Union was adhered to without divergence.

It was the commissar who had to check on the morale of the guerillas and at times brought news from international broadcasts, with a bit of balanced propaganda so that we did not lose hope in our struggle against Rhodesian settler colonialism whose parent was Britain.

A section, platoon, company or battalion had a commissar assigned to it. The war against the Rhodesia Front demanded that we were not only physically fit but also strong as far as ideology was concerned. It was also the commissar who ensured that we treat civilians with care, without inflicting any harm, since they were the base of the party.

Our guerilla training programme commenced on December 5, 1977. Our total strength came to constitute the First and Second Battalion, which was effectively a brigade. Our normal day began around four in the morning with toyi-toyi, which took us until breakfast.

After that we went to attend lessons in areas as Combat Tactics, Topography, Reconnaissance, Engineering, Small Arms , First Aid, Political Education as well as Guerilla War Administration, which was abbreviated as GWA.

In Political Education, we had to understand why we were fighting. Ours was an endeavour against a system that had taken the land of our forefathers. Even though the Rhodesian system was dominated by whites, ours was not to fight a skin colour.

However, it was also true that a minority white population could not be in a position to push a majority of impoverished blacks off their land as what had happened in the post-Land Apportionment Acts. Zapu was also fond of Socialism.

It was explained to us that in a Socialist state, the struggling classes – like workers and peasants – needed to play a part in issues of governance and access to the factors of production.

The commissars pointed out that the highest level of Socialism was Communism. On the other hand, the highest level of capitalism was imperialism. The political lessons were quite powerful.

It was then that we realised the whole essence of taking up arms against the settler colonial government in Rhodesia. The prime foundation of guerilla training was physical fitness. As far as Combat Tactics was concerned, we learnt about ambushes, raids and assaults. It was about getting to grips with surprise attacks against the enemy. An attack could be staged in the afternoon, evening or just before dawn.

In terms of light armaments we were taught about Soviet pistols like Makarov, Tokarev, and went further to handle Simonov as well as AK rifles. In principle, guerilla warfare is about light arms, swift mobility and small numbers. The enemy had to be confused — totally. We had to understand the history of such weapons as the AK, which had been designed by a Soviet tank driver after the Second World War, in 1947.

It was a versatile weapon which was so adaptable to our difficult weather conditions and terrain. It came in various versions including a folded butt edition, which was ideal for urban warfare.

The AK normally loaded about 30 rounds of 7,62mm ammunition and could be carried with ease. Apart from its mechanical qualities, the AK became the adopted symbol of revolution the world over, emancipating people from the yokes of colonialism, imperialism, apartheid and any form of oppression.

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