The long trek to freedom

31 Jan, 2021 - 00:01 0 Views
The long trek to freedom Cde Tsodzo

The Sunday Mail

BORN in 1959, Nyembesi Judith Tsodzo whose war name was Cde Pepukai grew up partly in Kambuzuma and then moved to Rushinga when her grandfather acquired a small-scale farm. It was in Rushinga where she was to be recruited into the liberation struggle, joining at the tender age of 15, having just completed her Grade 7. In her first conversation with GARIKAI MAZARA, she talks about her conscription, journey into Mozambique and then Zambia, and how arduous the journey was.

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Q: Rushinga was the first front to be opened by guerrillas as they came to fight the Rhodesians. How was life like in that front in the early days?

A: When I left school in 1974, that is when we started hearing about the guerrillas. By then they would be called “vakomana”, and word would be they have been seen here, they have been seen there. But what I had noticed is that my mother would ask us to shell groundnuts and make peanut butter, plenty of it, but we wouldn’t see where it went. This is because my parents had already made contact with these “boys”, and then that year there was an influx of the boys. They would hold small meetings with school children, mobilising for support as well as conscientising us about the war.

When we went to the base, usually after mobilising food and other supplies they would have requested, if you returned again, you would not find them as they didn’t want their movements to be known. The Rhodesian propaganda used to call them “magandanga” and alleged that they committed rape and murder, but as we got used to them, they told us of the history of the country — that it belonged to our ancestors. The first comrades were well-trained and they educated us politically such that a time came when we would now spend almost the whole night at the bases.

One the songs that we sang went something like this:

Nyika yedu yeZimbabwe ndimo matakazvarirwa

Vana mai nababa ndimo mavanobva

Tinoda Zimbabwe nehupfumi hwayo hose

Simuka Zimbabwe, Zimbabwe

Slowly they established bases at Maname, Gwashure, Tsvuura, Ruya (Dati), Pfunyanguwo, Bungwe, Chimhanda and Gwagwava. But as early as that, we had sell-outs, whom we called “capricorns”, and they would pass on information to Rhodesians as to when and where the comrades would be holding their next pungwes. So here and there we would get ambushes at the bases.

This first set of comrades were well-mannered and followed traditional rites such that when they got into an area, they would seek the counsel of the traditional leaders. Up to the time I left to join the struggle, there was not even a single death that happened during these ambushes.

What I remember of that same year, our area, Maname, had been declared a war zone and we were shifted to near Rushinga centre, because they said we were looking after guerrillas. We were now living almost like in a keep. But the comrades kept on advancing; they didn’t stop.

Then one day I discussed with my friends — some from Gwashure, some from Rungwa, some from Bungwe — and we decided to join the war. On our journey with the guerrillas into Mozambique, we discovered that they were a disciplined lot, despite what the Rhodesians said of them.

When we got to a river, and they knew they were travelling with girls, they would deploy themselves and let us bath. This was around July 1974 and Mozambique had just called for a ceasefire, that is the hostilities between the Mozambicans and the Portuguese, but the latter had not completely withdrawn, so at times we would get into ambushes between the two.

One of the biggest obstacles we came across when crossing was landmines, which had been planted along the border from Chirundu to where Ruya River meets Mazowe River. My section commander was Cde Super, commissar was Cde Anywet Dzoro, security was Cde Tsaona and logistics was Cde Nyikayaoma, and the fifth one I have forgotten.

Q: So how did you join the war? What motivated you?

A: My father used to work for the Rhodesia Sugar Refineries and his back had been burnt during an accident at work. So when we moved to Rushinga, one day the Rhodesians came looking for guerrillas and they were asking every man to remove his shirt.

They mistook the burns that my father had at the back for a guerrilla who had been carrying ammunition. So he was beaten, in spite of the protestations from other villagers that he had been burnt at work. This, plus the orientation we were receiving at bases, inspired me to take up arms and fight the injustices that I was seeing all around me.

Q: Would you remember how many you were in your group, the one that had been recruited? And were you from the same village or same school?

A: We were around 20, boys and girls combined. We came from different villages, different schools as well as different bases. The bases that I mentioned earlier on. So the security guy would travel for about a kilometre in advance and then we would follow as groups, in a single file. This was to help us counter the landmines as well as if we were to come under attack, we would be safer unlike if we moved as scattered groups.

Then we arrived at Terresera base in Mozambique, which was more of a transit base, which was a meeting point for recruits and where guerrillas from the front would come for re-supply and food. This base knew no day nor night; it was active round-the-clock and any time people arrived, they would be served food.

From Terresera, the next stop was Itubvi 1, which was on the Mozambican side of the Zambezi River. Itubvi 2 was on the other side of the Zambezi, on the Zambian side. There was a mini desert and plenty of sacred places between Terresera and Itubvi 1.

One such sacred place was a well which was between Terresera and Itubvi 1 and once you were about to get near to it, say some 10 or so kilometres, you would send some people in advance to do the rituals and then draw water. You were not allowed to use any metal cans to draw the water, no noise was allowed, and for us girls, if you were having your periods, you were not allowed anywhere near the well. So the water would be drawn in advance and placed at some place away from the well, from where we would then drink.

Over the course of the war, because we would travel over that desert often, some among us decided to check if the spirituality of the well was real and disregarded the rituals. And for sure, the well would dry in our faces.

The journey from Terresera to Zambezi was painful. Like I said, it was desert-like. When a comrade wanted to pass urine, you would plead with him/her not to, as they were about to throw away precious liquid. You would drink urine. Urine does not kill — we drank it! The area was so hot that it was common to have blisters from walking and we used to have a saying, “achayika, achayika”, meaning one would have blisters all over, especially between the legs and under-soles.

I think that this was the same year that Cahora Bassa Dam was being built and Zambezi was full to capacity such that one could not see the beginning or end of the river’s banks.

When we got there, there was a canoe operated by Cde Mawaya, an old man who had fought the Portuguese war and had now joined us in our fight. His canoe would carry 18 people, but everyone getting into the canoe across the Zambezi had to confess. Otherwise without confessing, the canoe would capsize.

There are some — you know we always have people who wanted to check if these rituals were real — who didn’t confess, causing several people to drown. Many lives were lost whilst crossing the Zambezi and many parents don’t even know where or how their children perished during the war.

As much as crossing the Zambezi was haunting, it had to be done over and over again as we, the recruits, were the medium for carrying weapons from the rear to the front. So if it happened that you arrived at Itubvi Base 2 – that is on the Zambian side — when supplies were due to be ferried to the front, you had to make the back-trip.

Besides the Zambezi, we had mountains to scale and another river, Mukanya, which was a tributary into the Zambezi. As I said, it was the year that Cahora Bassa was being built and the Zambezi was full to the brim, and as such, water was flowing backwards into Mukanya.

Our commanders did not know what to do. They asked us to wait for the water to subside. Cde Kenny Ridzai, one of the first group of comrades to fire a gun in the country, was there.

We could not cross and we prepared our lunch on the island between the Zambezi and Mukanya, in the hope that by the time we finished eating, Mukanya would have subsided. But as the sun was setting, and the tributary not showing any signs of subsiding, it was decided that we cross all the same. The first group crossed Mukanya without incident. We used a rope that was tied to a tree on the Zambezi end and to another tree on the other end.

When the second group was in the middle of Mukanya, I think something down at Cahora Bassa happened as the Zambezi suddenly opened up, such that the water in Mukanya also let go. That whole group, which was in the middle of crossing, was washed away with its load of weapons. Our group, which was the third and last group, had to cross the following morning.

You have to understand this: this was not just crossing Mukanya River because, like I said, when you got there when there were supplies going to the front, you had to cross back with those supplies. So an average load was like this: 700 bullets; 82mm booze (duri raMbuya Nehanda), and you had two of these; 62mm booze (tumaturi), and you had four; then 10 magazines, each magazine with 30 rounds. Nothing was to be lost, because it was said you were carrying the people’s weapons.

Q: So these weapons, where would you be getting them from?

A: I was coming to that. There was a base called Chifombo that was at the border between Zambia and Mozambique. It was said about five kilometres from Zambezi there was Mbuya Nehanda’s grave, and those five kilometres were a vlei which was called Bani raMbuya Nehanda. During the rainy season, it would fill like a small lake, and the path that we would use to cross it would always stand out — wet season, dry season or at night. No-one would miss it.

It was at Chifombo that we met Cdes Takawira (he used to work at Zanu PF HQ and is now late), Munetsi, Mupanzawarima, Makasha and Mai Mujuru with her first group of women coming from training. Then there were spirit mediums — Sekuru Chipfeni, Chidyamauyu and Chiodzamamera. So before we left Chifombo with the weapons, we would go to the spirit mediums in the company of our commanders for prayers. We would remove our shoes and face the east, probably because home was to the east. The prayer would be:

Moyo wangu watsidza kufira Zimbabwe

Dzamara pfumo rangu ramutsa Zimbabwe

Mumakomo nemunzizi ndichararamo

Dzamara pfumo ramutsa Zimbabwe

Rufu rwangu ruchava rweZimbabwe

Yuwii maiwe vakoma wapera

Then we would have a moment of silence, which would take some five minutes and by the time we would have finished singing and observing the five minutes, those who would have gone to Mbuya Nehanda’s grave would have come back. I never witnessed what was done at the grave nor set my eyes on the grave.

In the next instalment, Cde Pepukai talks about the nine months of détente at Mboroma, where she survived food poisoning, and recalls how comrades were killed and how those killings defined ZANU leadership. Make sure not to miss it.

 

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