The ManicaPost
Freedom Mutanda and Sifelani Tonje Post Correspondents—
One way in which Ian Smith responded to the growing influx of guerrillas in Zimbabwe was to attack neighbouring countries that were sympathetic to the cause of the liberation of their motherland. When he struck, he did that with chilling accuracy resulting in the deaths of thousands of refugees. These callous attacks will remain embedded in the collective memory of Zimbabweans.
Sifelani Tonje and I visited Trymore Bhasera/Chikono who stays at Chibuwe and he related his days in the bush and how he survived the Chimoio attack. Here is his story in his own words. Read on.
I was born on 22 August 1963 at Chibuwe and my parents had a large herd of livestock which delayed my going to school; I first went to school in 1972. In those days, we heard about the various white farmers in the Middle Sabi area who obtained nicknames such as Madhonora because of his huge frame and it was reputed that he beat up his wife regularly. We were young but we heard that there were the ‘boys’ who would ensure that we would get back our country that had been taken over by white settlers many years ago.
In August 1976, three friends of mine namely Stanley Bote, Denver Mangwanani and Mwarumba Munheru and I decided to skip the border and meet the ‘boys’ in the bush to be part and parcel of the liberation struggle.
We used the Rimbi -Mwangazi route but later we heard that at the boom gate, there were Rhodesian soldiers who stayed there to stop the mass of humans who wanted to be trained as freedom fighters; therefore, we made a detour and arrived at Chikwekwete post. We met FRELIMO soldiers who interrogated us harshly as if we were the enemy. They asked about the push factors that made us go to Mozambique. They thought that we were spies. It was the Zamchiya route that seemed to betray us for they thought the regime hadn’t harassed us as they knew we were spies.
They lined us up with the help of kamarada Lovemore, the interrogator- in- chief. We remained resolute and stuck to our story. Fortunately, a guerrilla leader came and told them to stop. We heaved a sigh of relief. We thought we were done for and it would be a number of seconds before we breathed our last.
We went to Espungabeira aboard Dodge trucks for the number of trainees had swelled at Chikwekwete. Someone wondered whether there were young people left in Zimbabwe judging by the deluge which went to Mozambique. The same Dodges took us to Chibawawa holding camp which housed the watoto and the vazee; there were individuals awaiting training there.
Conditions at Chibawawa were deplorable. Some of us wanted to go back home. We had mangai as food. Sperito (small sadza) and pao were occasional luxuries.
We went and received food from the people (chirenje) at the risk of being flogged until our buttocks grew hot if we got caught.
Denver and Mwarumba tried to run away and when they were caught, they were beaten so thoroughly that they cried out, ‘‘atichadzoki kani!’’ Streams of tears rolled down their cheeks and they were told that if ever they tried to run away, they would be shot on sight.
At times, we were offered cassava as food but to the uninitiated, it appeared as if the commanders were bad. Reality on the ground showed that these were times of distress where sacrifice was the king.
Everyday, we had drills and I was in ‘A’ Company where I received political orientation and Mao’s ten points that made a guerrilla a success as compared to those who had no basic education on guerrilla fighting.
It was there that I got my nom de guerre Cde Destroyer Dombo.
A group of four cadres tried to escape. They were captured in early 1977. They were beaten thoroughly and they never attempted a ‘smart’ thing again.
Briefly, I attended the Watoto School as I continued with Grade 3 where I had ended before I joined the bandwagon to Mozambique. I did not stay there for long as my mission in coming to Mozambique was to hold the bazooka and fight my way back to Zimbabwe.
With my friend Denver and others we went to Chimoio. We arrived at Buzi Bridge that was manned on all sides. We decided to swim to cross Buzi River; when we were halfway to the other side, the FRELIMO soldiers called us to come back and once again the Dodge was the vehicle which was used to ferry us back to Chibawawa.
No sooner were we in the Dodge than we disembarked from it. We jumped and ran away with the karamadas in hot pursuit. We arrived at the bridge and got aid from the boys who helped us cross the river as we gave them our clothes as a ‘thank you’ gesture. We hit Inchope highway and a car behind us caught up with us; we tried to escape but fate ruled otherwise; this time, we were captured. We were first taken to a FRELIMO base before we went to Gondola. One of the leaders there was Dzingai Barnabas Mutumbuka who was famously regarded as a highly educated man. I later heard he headed the education department of ZANU which spearheaded education to the watoto and others who could have been injured at the front. They recuperated and learned at the same time.
Some of my instructors were Cdes Bethune, Makosha and Hamunyari. We were ready for war and awaited deployment when the regime struck in late November 1977.
Chimoio attack
Cdes Mponda, Mayor Urimbo and one that I have forgotten were our Political Commissars. They were tasked with party orientation of cadres. One ought to know the primary reason that the Second Chimurenga was being fought.
On that fateful day in November 1977, a Dakota dropped some soldiers at about 3 in the early hours of the morning. The paratroopers, we later saw, were armed to the teeth. Spotter planes came and at the poshto I was, I knew it was going to be a long day.
Fighter planes came in a diamond formation. They fired at us; most of the people at Chimoio were civilians, refugees who had no military experience to combat the seasoned fighters.
Jets were in two layers; those at the top were to harass us while those at the bottom shot at us. They bombed us and I vividly saw one woman whose torso flew in the air before it came agonisingly down to earth. I cried but I knew my tears would not fight the war and we had been surrounded; we were hemmed in from all sides.
Cde Casper Pfaira and I tried in vain to escape as the soldiers fired at us. It was almost 2 pm now. Blood and its smell pervaded the atmosphere. I thought I would never eat beef again until I die. Pfaira and I made one last attempt to escape and we saw ourselves staring at the muzzles of guns. We froze; time stood still as we slowly and agonisingly looked up at the people who held guns at us. We knew we were in trouble and death was a matter of seconds. We looked up and saw black faces staring down at us.
If we had thought of surviving before, that time we knew our days on earth were numbered.
Some people told us that black soldiers were more callous than the white soldiers. We were told the black soldiers were similar to the professional mourners who cried more than the bereaved after someone has died.
Surprisingly, they signalled to pass quickly and we did, much to the relief of my friend and I.
We ran as if our lives depended on it and it did indeed.
We arrived near Gondola where Cdes Mayor Urimbo and Josiah Magama Tongogara were domiciled. Cde Tongo had a pair of binoculars that he used to scan the sky and check on enemy aircraft movement
We went to Chimoio as Cde Tongogara went there with Fanya Haraka troops as reinforcements. We arrived there and heard gory news of how enemy soldiers killed off the injured. We moved to Gondola. We arrived at Mudzingadzi. Trees lined up along the Mudzingadzi River. The seriously injured were transported to Beira. Cdes Mugabe, Tongo and Urimbo comforted the injured.
Mudzingadzi attack
At Mudzingadzi a jet came and we sprinted in different directions as we took cover.
As I said, there were trees along the river. We went in their direction-direction of the trees. From nowhere, five jets came and bombed us. Ten minutes later, it was all over. The holes dotted all over the place showed that a bombing had taken place. They had used bombs that had iron nails for destructive effect; a number of comrades perished there and they were buried at Doroi.
I went to Inyamhinga where I was assigned to Cde Gidi, a member of the Central Committee, as his personal bodyguard.
Gezani contact
The previous day, ten comrades had been killed in a contact. That was August 1979 when we heard our political leadership would go to London for talks. We decided to exact revenge on the regime soldiers. We knew that a convoy would pass through Gezani and we decided to institute an ambush. We were twelve. We took positions as we saw the vehicle come into view.
I shot at the wheels and that immobilized the vehicles.
Those soldiers who leapt out were shot one by one. Suddenly, a helicopter shot into view. We became the hunted now as we ran to the Gathering Point (GP) at Mbuyadhongi.
We lost two cadres there and as we buried them we sang, ‘‘moyo wangu watsidza kusunungura Zimbabwe.’’
That was our last major contact with the enemy before cease fire was announced. I went to Chitungwiza Assembly point.
Today, I am a successful farmer and with the rains favouring us like this, I have no doubt in my mind that as a nation, we will get out of the woods.
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