The Sunday Mail
WE continue our discussion with CDE JOSEPH SERIMA (JS), whose Chimurenga name was Vavengi Muchapera. In last week’s discussion with our Senior Reporter TENDAI CHARA (TC), Cde Serima narrated how he escaped death by a whisker when his group was attacked by the Rhodesian army after having been sold out by a local teacher.
In this week’s edition, Cde Serima will continue with his narration, taking us into some of the do-or-die situations he found himself in during this most difficult time.
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Read on. . .
TC: Cde Serima, last week we ended our discussion with you telling us how a family took to its heels when you arrived at its home, bloodied and bruised, to seek assistance after that near-death escape from Rhodesian forces. Kindly continue with your narration.
JS: Like I said previously, the family members scattered in different directions when I arrived at their home. I do not know what was going through their minds, but the sight of a battered, bruised and bloodied man scared them. They might have mistaken me for a Rhodesian soldier. I had to shout and plead to them that I was a freedom fighter and needed their help. After a while, these people, who had by then recognised me, trooped back. The locals knew me as Mukoma Kashiri Kamambo because I sang very well during the all-night vigils that we conducted. I was a popular entertainer so I was easily recognised.
My favourite wartime song was “Kashiri Kamambo,” hence the name that I was given by the masses. When the family returned, one of the elderly men went into the bush and took some roots that he crushed and mixed to make traditional medicine. The medicine was applied on the injured parts. I was then taken away from the homestead and hidden in a deep gulley. I was given a mattress on which I slept.
However, within an hour, a mujibha came running, telling the people around that the “red chillies” were approaching. We referred to the Rhodesian soldiers as chillies because of their skin colour. I was promptly removed from the gully and placed in a thicket. A distance away the Rhodesians were busy taking away bodies of their colleagues who had died during the battle.
A helicopter which was coming from the scene of the battle passed through where I was and again, as it was during an earlier incident in the garden, the wind from the helicopter completely exposed me. Again, I made the silent pleas to Mbuya Nehanda, begging the spirit medium to save me. Luckily for me, the enemy did not notice me and the helicopter flew away. I told those that were attending to me that I wanted to leave the area as soon as possible. I wanted to be reunited with my fellow comrades. A wheelbarrow was availed and I was pushed to Honde Mission.
When we were about to reach Honde Mission, we heard a spotter plane coming towards us. Those that were pushing the wheelbarrow panicked, pushed it aside and abandoned me. The plane flew away without an incident. I was livid. I was not happy with the way those that were pushing the wheelbarrow pushed it and made me fall. I was then taken to Honde Mission where I was hidden in one of the rooms. All this time my fellow comrades had concluded that I was dead. The trail of blood that I left behind the garden had made them come to that conclusion.
My fellow comrades later on gathered that I was alive and made arrangements to have me taken from the mission. However, before the comrades came to pick me up, Rhodesian soldiers who were searching for freedom fighters that were injured during the battle came to the mission. They were heading for the room that I was in when one woman devised a plan that saved my life. It was an audacious plan that still amazes me to this day.
As the Rhodesian soldiers were approaching, the woman took a bucket which was full of water, came into the room in which I was hidden, stripped naked and started to bath. I was hiding under a bed. When the Rhodesian soldiers arrived, they demanded to know where guerillas were hiding at the mission. The women told the soldiers that they had not seen a freedom fighter. I was hearing all this and I clutched my hand grenade, ready to throw it and die with the enemy. I was ready to die. One Rhodesian soldier came to the room, kicked the door open and when he saw the naked woman, he quickly shut the door and searched the other rooms. It was another very close shave with death.
We decided to move on and we were now headed to the place where my colleagues were based. Before the battle, our group was made up of 15 fighters but when the battle came to an end, only four of us had survived.
I was now walking with a heavy limp. I was being accompanied to where the other comrades where by one of the mujibhas.
On our way to the base, we decided to pass through the mujibha’s home. We went straight into the kitchen where we were welcomed by the mujibha’s mother. However, something inside me kept telling me that something bad was about to happen. I did not waste time. We immediately left the home. We later on gathered that when we left, Rhodesian soldiers arrived at the home and severely assaulted the mujibha’s mother. Had we delayed by a few minutes, the soldiers would have arrived at the home when we were still there.
Again, my ancestral spirits had saved me from the jaws of a crocodile. I was then reunited with my colleagues. I had to be vetted first before I could be readmitted into the group. That was the norm during the war. If a fighter had been captured and then escaped or had wandered away during a battle, that fighter would be vetted to ascertain his or her loyalty. The vetting was done to flush-out fighters that would have been captured and then turned by the Rhodesians into sell-outs.
My colleagues were happy to see me. They had thought that I had been killed during the fierce battle. Since I was badly injured, a decision was promptly made for me to be taken to Mozambique for treatment. I didn’t want to go to Mozambique where there was an acute shortage of food. I protested against the decision in vain.
Together with the other injured fighters, we were taken to the rear in Chimoio. That was in 1977. Going to Mozambique, however, further compounded my woes.
Within three days of arriving at the Chimoio refugee camp, the camp was attacked by the enemy, resulting in thousands of people losing their lives, with some sustaining injuries.
TC: Tell us about the Chimoio Massacre. How did you survive?
JS: What happened was that I woke up early in the morning and went to the camp hospital which we called Parirenyatwa for treatment. I remember my first operation was conducted by Dr Sydney Sekeramayi at Parirenyatwa. The previous night, I had a dream in which I was shown a big flock of birds that was coming to the base from the Rhodesian direction. I told my friend Macrook about the dream.
Macrook, who was a medic at the refugee camp, laughed and dismissed the dream as meaningless.
However, within minutes after Macrook had dismissed my dream, Rhodesian warplanes, like the birds in my dream, filled the sky. From Parirenyatwa, I rushed to Chitepo, which was the living quarters, where I grabbed my gun. As I ran towards Chitepo, a bomb was dropped, destroying the many huts that we used for shelter.
Together with hundreds of other fighters, we changed course and ran towards a nearby river.
Little did we know that the Rhodesian planes had dropped-off some soldiers right in front of us.
We were actually running into the Rhodesian killing bag.
Some of my colleagues were shot at point blank range. I somehow found a way out of the killing zone and ran towards a nearby river where I was joined by other people as we hid under a huge tree trunk which was partly submerged in water.
From our hiding place, we could hear bombs being dropped on our unlucky colleagues who were still trying to find their way out of the enemy killing bag.
In our next instalment, Cde Serima will narrate to us how he eventually escaped from the enemy killing bag. He will also tell us how he rose to become the leader of the Zanu choir which included such notable singers as Ketayi Muchawaya, Chinx Chingaira and Max Mapfumo.
