The Sunday Mail
Tinashe Kusema
“Even death has a heart!”
This extract, from the novel The Book Thief, is one of the very first things that rushed to mind when news broke that Mr Oscar Munyoro-Katsukunya was no more.
Aged 120, Katsukunya died peacefully in his sleep, mid last week, finally succumbing to his storied battle against time.
Whilst the name Katsukunya might ring a bell only to a few, for those in the know, he was most famous for two reasons, the first being that he was believed to have been one of the world’s oldest man alive.
While the official record belongs to super-centenarian American Susannah Mushatt Jones, who is only 116 years-old, Oscar Munyoro- Katsukunya’s case has been subject to debate for quite some time because none of his family members know when he was actually born and how old he is, but estimates had him pegged around 120 years old at the time of his death.
“We do not really know the exact date he was born as he is the only man who knows but he can no longer remember. However, we estimate it to be roughly around 1896 making him about 120 years old,” said his son Emmanuel, when we paid the family a visit early last year.
The only other person who might have had an idea was his wife of many years, Maria. Sadly, she died four years ago.
The other reason why the name Katsukunya might sound familiar to some is that he was one of the very first people to teach His Excellency President Robert Mugabe during the President’s formative years at Kutama High.
When I first met him, early last year, Katsukunya was but a pale shadow of the man who taught one of the most powerful men in the country’s history. I remember thinking to myself: “What motivates a man to want to live that long?”
Wheelchair-bound, deaf in one ear, time had not been kind to the fickle old man. However, somehow he soldiered on. His memory was almost gone at the time and amongst the numerous difficulties he had during his final years was the ability to perform day-to-day stuff. Talking had become strenuous, walking was no longer an option and his hearing half gone.
As much as he seemed to struggle with remembering anything, the memories he seemed not to forget was the time he spent teaching the President and some of the scars he carried from the liberation struggle.
“I started teaching in 1928, as a student teacher, after we had been sent to Kutama as part of our practicals. I taught the President in 1931 when he was doing his Sub A.
“Together with James Chikerema, the two demonstrated large expanses of intelligence, with the President showing an unsatiable appetite for knowledge,” he said, the translation coming through the son, who appeared to be the only voice he acknowledged during his final years.
Apart from remembering his Sub A pupil, the memories of the student-teacher relationship appeared to be sparse. However, he did remember two crucial events that, at the time, appeared to be entrenched in his mind forever.
The first and most memorable occurred soon after he had finished his classes sometime in 1980, and the President – by then who had just been elected Prime Minister of the new Republic, was visiting Zvimba to open a new hospital in the area.
Katsukunya remembered the events of that meeting, like it had happened the previous day. When the then Prime Minister was made aware of his teacher’s presence, he called him and the two had a brief chat.
The other incident, whose details were re-configured by the son, go some way in explaining the facial appearance of the centurion. “I remember the story of how my father lost his teeth, it was one he has told us countless times. As the liberation struggle heated up, gatherings had been banned but people used to gather and talk all the time.
“One day my father was gathered with his friends, drinking, when a helicopter suddenly appeared on the horizon and the police wrongly assumed that the gathered were plotting something.
“What they didn’t realise was the news had started filtering about the end of the war and when the police tried to apprehend them, my father as a teacher, who was supposed to be the more knowledgeable amongst the gathered, stood up to them. They bashed him with the butt of a rifle removing his teeth,” narrated the son.
“We were sent to Chikurubi but we were immediately released. After that short horrifying ordeal, we celebrated the end of the war and our new Prime Minister . . . singing his name and war slogans,” chinned in the elder Katsukunya.
From our brief chat early last year, it was apparent that, though he had already met his former student and now President, Katsukunya was longing for yet another meet with him. He probably sensed his time was up and wanted to check that off his bucket list.
Probably the reason why the centenarian was overly happy when the two finally met during last year’s Kutama High School’s centenary celebrations.
