WAKING up this past Saturday morning, and turning on the television set — I never expected to be greeted by such a heart-wrenching scene.
On television was a documentary narrating a harrowing ambush on Mutorahuku Base, in Mhandu, by the Rhodesian Forces in the 1970s — resulting in the horrendous deaths of several freedom fighters.
As I watched the file footage used in the programme — featuring helicopters hovering over some bushes, seemingly attacking armed guerrillas — my mind could not help wondering.
Why did Comrades Rudo and Paida (and several others) perish in this Mutorahuku ambush?
In fact, why did thousands of Zimbabweans die during the gruesome and gruelling 1970s protracted armed struggle?
Did the people of this country not genuinely expect that after gaining independence, the majority would finally enjoy the “milk and honey” that Zimbabwe has in abundance?
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Did millions of people not believe that they would, indeed, be transformed from second-class citizens in their own country, to masters of their own destiny, whereby they partook fairly and equitably in the vast wealth this land is endowed with?
Did comrades Rudo and Paida as well as many other combatants and even ordinary villagers (who lost not only their lives and loved ones, but also limbs and their property) — not envision a new Zimbabwe, whose citizens would live in relative comfort and lavishness?
Why would they not harbour such dreams — considering the development and advancements they witnessed among the white population — which was all a product of the gold and numerous other natural resource blessings on the land between the Zambezi and Limpopo rivers?
Yet, 43 years after independence the vast majority of Zimbabweans still languish in abject poverty, with half the population earning less than US$2 a day and 70% failing to access a balanced diet.
As I was watching the documentary on local television, I could not help wondering how Comrades Rudo and Paida’s lives would have been today had they not died in that ambush? Would they have been satisfied with the direction the country they courageously sacrificed their lives for has taken?
Would they have been enjoying the fruits of the independence they gave everything for?
Or would they be saying they suffered for nothing?
Actually, I would love to visit Mhandu village, to ascertain for myself whether the lives and livelihoods of the ordinary villagers there improved after independence — taking into consideration the devastating horrors they witnessed during the struggle for independence.
How many Zimbabweans, moreso rural folk, can truthfully declare that they are better off today than they were 50 years ago?
What do they have to show for the brutality and misery they suffered back then?
Are they still not walking an average 20km to reach their nearest healthcare facilities lacking the most basic medicines such as painkillers and antibiotics, where people are needlessly dying from treatable and preventable diseases, or during childbirth which should, otherwise, be a joyful experience?
Children still study under trees or in ramshackle structures — without access to text and exercise books, and obviously light-years behind as far as science and technology is concerned.
Pit latrines and boreholes are actually regarded as signs of success and status while there are no roads to talk of since no one in their right mind can seriously characterise those rocky dusty strips as roads.
Did Comrades Rudo and Paida (and these were females, mind you) ever imagine that independence would mean rural folk surviving largely on tax-funded handouts and agricultural inputs and be unable to afford buying their own?
Could they have even imagined that 43 years after Uhuru, the majority of rural dwellers would not be economically independent relying on subsistence farming on small plots of poor soil, with low rainfall — ironically, one of the major grievances that led to the waging of the armed struggle in the first place?
Yet a few ruling elite enjoy everything there is to enjoy in the country — including massive tracts of fertile land, in regions that receive excellent rainfall while benefiting from government mechanisation and input programmes.
Could they have ever imagined that after independence the country would have a leader who would readily mortgage the country to the highest bidder merely for an opportunity to cut a ribbon. In fact, most of these rural areas are endowed with vast natural resources that attracted colonial powers to this country.
However, four decades after independence, all the gold, platinum, diamonds, lithium, coal, nickel and many other minerals are only enriching those in power and their cronies.
At the same time, local communities are forced to make way for these looters and plunderers. As they are evicted from their ancestral lands, to accommodate mining companies that seldom bring any tangible development to these areas.
Hardly any benefits come to the locals — who have to be content with and grateful for menial jobs or a chance to sell sadza to the workers of the plunderer of the country’s resources.
If they get a school, a road and a bridge, they should count themselves very lucky.
In the meantime, gold, diamond, lithium mafias will be pillaging all that wealth for their own benefit.
Gold is being sold to United Arab Emirates with only half or less of the proceeds reaching State coffers. The remainder is stashed away in Dubai for the benefit of a few.
Zimbabwe is reportedly losing US$2 billion annually through gold smuggling. All this happens with the full knowledge of those in power.
Has the nation, and the world, not watched in utter shock as some in the highest offices in Zimbabwe were named by their accomplices in smuggling and money-laundering schemes.
When my mother saw the Al Jazeera documentary titled Gold Mafia: The Laundry Service, she was shocked into silence.
I had not seen her so pained and angry in a very long time. This reminded her of the loss of her savings and insurance policies, which were wiped out by hyperinflation during the early 2000s. Up to today, she has not received her pension for her sweat and toil from 1964 to 2010 at the defunct State-owned Ziscosteel.
According to a commission of inquiry appointed by government in 2006, the company collapsed mainly due to looting by those linked to the political elite and incompetence and mismanagement by executives and management appointed on partisan lines.
As we speak, there has not been any water in our homes in Redcliff for a year-and-a-half. This, as a result of a local authority that is more proficient at stealing and attending to its officials’ comforts (purchasing luxury vehicles and other goodies) from public funds than fulfilling their service delivery mandate.
Why would anyone surely not be enraged?
I am still haunted by the image of those Rhodesian helicopters shown in the local television documentary I watched on Saturday morning
Again, I ask — why did Comrades Rudo, Paida and thousands other Zimbabweans die fighting for this country’s independence?
Did thousands die so that only a few could enrich themselves from our minerals and land, while millions languish in abject poverty?
- Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice activist, writer, author, and political commentator