The Farm on Their Land

By Emmanuel Chinyamakobvu

For decades the land question remained a topical issue in Zimbabwe. Two decades after independence in 1980, discontent was now constantly and increasingly expressed against the Government by the rural population and war veterans who were demanding the fulfillment of the promises made during the liberation war of taking the land from the mainly white commercial farmers and returning it back to the black majority. Inevitably, contradictions in the Zimbabwean society were coming to a head. Then at the turn of the twenty first century, came the Jambanja era, heralding a landmark in Zimbabwes struggle to redistribute the land. The white farmer had to be replaced by the native black farmer and inevitably some violent skirmishes became part of the Jambanja. The British Crown and its Western allies were up in arms against the Government of Zimbabwe and sanctions were visited upon the country. Who was to blame? As long as the white minority remained on the land, was justice being served? Were the land reform proponents able to confound all predictions and accomplish what was deemed impossible? Were the consequences worth the trouble? In the final analysis, when you discard the politics and separate the facts from the propaganda you will find Zimbabwe a traumatized nation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Nov 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9781467888905

Emmanuel Chinyamakobvu

Emmanuel Chinyamakobvu, the author of: The Intricate Mediators of the Land Reform in Zimbabwe, The Audacity of Breaking Free, Thou shall not be caught, The Farm on Their Land, The trail of a promiscuous spouse and Evil on the prowl: was born in the then Southern Rhodesia, and the present day Republic of Zimbabwe. He went to a number of primary schools in rural Rhodesia before enrolling for secondary education which he eventually completed in independent Zimbabwe. He later obtained college degrees in Agronomic Engineering, Agronomy, and Environment Management. In between college he lectured at the Harare Polytechnic, before joining the Department of Natural Resources. During his tenure in the Department of Natural Resources he participated in the negotiation process of the United Nations Convention to Combat Desertification (UNCCD) on behalf of the government of Zimbabwe. He later joined the UNCCD Secretariat. While with the United Nations, he practiced sustainable environmental management and rural development with a close linkage to poverty alleviation. Given his exposure to the work of the UNCCD, he worked with diverse stakeholder groupings, facilitating conferences of multilateral negotiations between country Parties, institutions and organizations. In the later years, his work with the UNCCD, also involved policy advocacy and partnership building between countries and development partners (donors). During his young and more adventurous years, Emmanuel participated in the Second Chimurenga that brought about the independence of Zimbabwe. It was his experiences in that war that inspired his book, The Audacity of Breaking Free.

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Contents

DISCLAIMER

SYNOPSIS OF THE STORY

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

THE FARM ON THEIR LAND

ENDNOTES

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The farm on their land

To my late daughter Paidamwoyo Yvanna

DISCLAIMER

The farm on their land is based on the historical events of the land question in Zimbabwe as viewed from the perspective of some of the people affected by the fast track land redistribution. The author compiled the information to present his opinion and that of the people involved on the subject matter. The reader is advised to carefully investigate the politics and the propaganda associated with the land question in Zimbabwe. The author obtained the information contained herein from sources he believes to be reliable and from his own personal experiences, but he neither implies nor intends any guarantee of accuracy. The author used many quotes attributing them to certain individuals, but again all these quotes are from his memory and therefore may be remembered differently from others’ recollection. While the names and characters in this book may relate to living persons, they were never meant to be associated with any individual in particular. The author particularly disclaims any liability, loss or risk taken by individuals who directly or indirectly act on the information contained herein. The author believes that the information presented here is sound, but readers cannot hold him responsible for either the actions they take, taken by others or the result of those actions.

SYNOPSIS OF THE STORY

For decades the land question remained a topical issue in Zimbabwe. Two decades after independence in 1980, discontent was being constantly and increasingly expressed against the Government by the rural population and war veterans who were demanding the fulfillment of the promises made during the liberation war of taking the land from the mainly white commercial farmers and returning it back to its rightful owners, the black majority. For ten years the Lancaster House agreement had barred the Government from unilaterally redistributing the land. Inevitably, contradictions in the Zimbabwean society were coming to a head.

Then at the beginning of the twenty-first century, came the Jambanja era, heralding a landmark in Zimbabwe’s struggle to reclaim its stolen birthright when the people of Svosve embarked on the ‘farm invasion’. It was the beginning of the last but most decisive phase of the straggle, the Do or Die stage. The white farmer was replaced by the native black farmer and inevitably some violent skirmishes became part of the Jambanja premised on the fact that reclaiming the land from the white minority was a matter of national priority worth fighting for and those who challenged it provoked a fight as what unfortunately often happens in all such situations.

The British Crown and its Western allies were up in arms against the Government of Zimbabwe. The government was never to be forgiven for daring to take the land from the white minority and giving it back to the native black majority. Sanctions were visited upon Zimbabwe by the British Crown and its allies. The western sanctions simply implied that their proponents did not care whether or not the black majority exercised their freedom of choice, independence, right to self-determination, right to their land, right to their economic resources and right to becoming masters of their own destiny. The sanctions broke the will and determination of many a people in those days.

But for the people of Svosve, regaining the ownership of their land was of historic national importance as it went to define conditions for peace or no peace and violence or no violence in the country. They decreed the constants, the non-negotiable and the fixed position of vital national interest that the Second Chimurenga had already subscribed to. In this regard, anyone working against that national interest was an enemy of the nation.

As long as the white minority remained on the land was justice being served? Will history deservedly, condemn or honour for all times the people of Svosve who opened the first battle front for the Third Chimurenga and soldiered on to the bitterest end regardless of the obvious hazards and tribulations that lay ahead? If opening the battle front was a mare beginning, were the people of Svosve capable of undertaking the most difficult work that was yet to come, that was the rebuilding of the nation’s agricultural based economy? Were the land reform beneficiaries able to confound all predictions and accomplish what was deemed impossible? The people of Svosve had no doubt aroused hopes in the eyes of the disposed majority and fears in the land owning white minority, but were the consequences worth the trouble? In the final analysis, when you discard the politics and separate the facts from the propaganda you will find that Zimbabwe is a traumatized nation.

Land apportionment in Rhodesia by 1965¹

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emmanuel Chinyamakobvu was born in the then Southern Rhodesia, and the present day Republic of Zimbabwe. He went to a number of primary schools in rural Rhodesia before enrolling for secondary education which he eventually completed in independent Zimbabwe. He later obtained college degrees in Agronomic Engineering, Agronomy, and Environment Management. In between college he lectured at the Harare Polytechnic, before joining the Department of Natural Resources. During his tenure in the Department of Natural Resources he participated in the negotiation process of the United Nations Convention to Combat Desertification (UNCCD), on behalf of the government of Zimbabwe. He later joined the UNCCD Secretariat. Whilst with the United Nations, he practiced sustainable environmental management and rural development with a close linkage to poverty alleviation. Given his exposure to the work of the United Nations, he worked with diverse stakeholder groups, facilitating negotiations between country Parties, institutions and organizations. In the later years, his work with the UNCCD, also involved policy advocacy and partnership building between countries and development partners (donors). During his young and more adventurous years, Emmanuel participated in the Second Chimurenga that brought about the independence of Zimbabwe. It was his experiences in that war that inspired his book, The Audacity of Breaking Free. He is also the author of The Intricate Mediators of the Land Reform in Zimbabwe and Thou shall not be caught!

THE FARM ON THEIR LAND

As I turned into the driveway at home I noticed a car parked in front of the house. I recognized it immediately. Langton is here, I said to myself. How did he know that I am home? What a pleasant surprise! Langton and I went to the same boarding secondary school and we were in the same class.

When I finally went into the house, I found Langton and his wife waiting. He had married Memory, his school time girlfriend. After the usual greetings, Memory asked me the ordinary questions about my family, my work in a foreign country, the people, the weather and my experiences in general. Langton told me how they had been doing. Briefly he talked of his new job and the new company he planned to establish.

When there was a little pause in the conversation, Memory gave Langton a sideways glance and simply said Langton.

Langton cleared his throat and looked me in the face as he usually did before something important. Rachel called last night, he began.

Rachel your sister, I mean Joseph’s wife, I said. I haven’t heard from Joseph for quite some time. I wonder how they are doing.

Langton responded quietly. Joseph was killed in a road accident. They were driving to Harare for the weekend and the accident happened near Beatrice along the Harare-Chivhu Road. A week yesterday, he added. "The details of the accident are that Joseph was travelling to Harare with a few other colleagues from the army when a car, moving in the opposite direction, encroached into their lane and slammed into their vehicle.

Joseph and two others were thrown out of the vehicle, on impact and died on the spot. Their driver was badly injured and was pronounced dead on arrival at the Hospital. The funeral is tomorrow. He will be buried in his rural village in Svosve. We heard that you were home and we thought we should let you know. Rachel and my parents of course would appreciate if you could attend the funeral.

Joseph and Rachel were both in the first group of college students that I was tasked to supervise during their internship in my Department at the Ministry of Environment and Tourism. I had since left lecturing at college and was then practicing natural resources management with the Government of Zimbabwe. Rachel was Langton’s sister and I had known her long before her internship. My department then needed additional human resources for the rural projects it was planning to undertake.

It was thus proposed that to cut on costs and to build capacity, the work at hand could be tailored to suit the needs of University Students. Given my background as a college lecturer, the task of supervising the students naturally fell upon me. All the eight students were dear to me, but Joseph was in his ‘own class’. He was very neat in appearance, respectful and with that happy-to-be-alive attitude. Joseph talked and joked incessantly. He made the entire team laugh all the time.

To this day I still recall Joseph’s funeral to the last detail. The village church was packed with Joseph’s friends from the army, relatives and colleagues. Most of his college friends and their families were there too. His colleagues who did their internship with him in my department, Patricia, Maria, Noel, Felix, Owen and Brighton were also there. We were all gathered to mourn the death of a son, a relative, a colleague and a friend whose life had suddenly been cut short, at such a tender age.

One by one Joseph’s relatives and friends took a last walk by the coffin. Looking at him lying there in the coffin, he appeared as if he was sound asleep. It was difficult to believe that he was dead. The death of Joseph by its very nature left me depressed and uninspired. It also left me with so many questions.

It was harrowing to me, as I looked at the white coffin and the mourning crowd, to remember every little detail I knew about him as one of the students in my first group of interns. As an intern, he had impressed me with his sincere apology every time I had to correct him for misconduct. As I took the last look at him Joseph seemed to be saying for that one last time, Thank you Blessing for coming to my funeral.

At the graveside the village pastor said the burial prayers and the Methodist Church Choir sang. As the coffin was slowly lowered into the grave, there was loud wailing from the mourners. Afterwards, as is the tradition, a number of people who had known Joseph in life took turn to say a few words to console the bereaved families and relatives. The pastor then blessed a container of sand, sprinkled part of it on the coffin and then asked Joseph’s relatives and friends to do the same. One by one we pinched the sand from the container and sprinkled it on the coffin.

I was almost the last one to sprinkle the coffin with the sand. As I stood there, Langton’s wife, Memory pulled me by the hand and led me to where Rachel was. With Rachel was Joseph’s parents and sister. They were introduced to me. As soon as I saw Joseph’s father I thought there was something about him, something familiar that I thought I should know. He in turn gave me a second look that seemed to tell a long forgotten story, a look that hinted that I was the only person in the world he had wanted to see for years and he was glad I had come.

Rachel held my hand and said "It is sad Blessing. Your Intern is no more. Thank you very much for everything that you did for him. Your mentoring helped him to go through the highs and lows of his days. I never thought it would come to this.

I prayed every day for Joseph. My prayer was that if he were to be injured in the army, God should give me strength to care for him. I prayed for our daughter to be afforded the opportunity to show her father what she can become as she grows older. But it is all over now.

Where you Joseph’s mentor? asked Joseph’s sister, Jeannette.

Yes, I was. I replied.

Joseph talked a lot about you, she said.

Then Joseph’s father said, Excuse me, Blessing, there is something that seems to be crying out to be said here. If I say to you, then pulling me closer to him, he whispered in my ears, and added does that mean anything to you?

That did it. It had to be me or him to know that and as far as I could recall, no third person in the world knew that, unless he had later told it to anyone long after the war. As for me I had kept it a guarded secret and had never told it to anyone as I would not say it now. Yes, now it all falls into place, I said enthusiastically, Zvinangwa, we had recognized each other and we vigorously shook hands once more.

It shall never be spoken of hereafter, to the total astonishment of everybody around we both warned each other simultaneously in an apparent confirmation that whatever it was that only the two of us knew shall never be made public.

When I first saw you, a few minutes ago, as you were being introduced to me, I thought there was something about you that looked familiar but I could not figure it out immediately, I added. Zvinangwa had changed since his Second Chimurenga years. Now he was a middle life aged man with a rather easy face and a humble manner. Two meek eyes had established an unassuming characteristic over his face that always gave him a respectful appearance.

I first saw you on one of Joseph’s photographs, but I was not sure it was you. When Joseph told me that you were his supervisor during his internship while he was at the University, I had thought then it could be some other person, Joseph’s father later explained. Then I thought I saw you at the wedding of Joseph and I realized you were the person I knew. Unfortunately, on that day I could not catch up with you. By the time I looked for you, I was made to understand that you had already left, he recalled.

Yes you are right. I was at the church for the wedding, but I left shortly after the Church Service. I recalled the wedding of Joseph was on a Heroes Day, and I had left early because I wanted to be at the National Heroes Acre.

* * *

Once upon a time, many years ago, there was an adventurous young man who had a dream for his country and for his people, the kind shared by thousands of young men and women of his generation all over the country, which was that his country and people could be—and indeed must one day be—whatever their destiny decided them to be in life. However there was one big historical obstacle with this fascinating perception that, barring a national revolution or a dramatic change of heart of historic proportions, his country and people could not actually be what they would want to be at all. His country was a Colony and his people were destined to be servants of the Colonial Master.

But looked at from the standing point of where the country and the people are today long after independence, few would argue that Zvinangwa and many of his generation were wrong to cherish those dreams for their country and its people. Yes, they may be condemned for one malady or another the country has seen, but within the confines of that part of history of this country, no one can take the credit for the fruits of their labour from them. They were more than usually determined to carry off the destiny of this country and its people in a manner of their choosing.

Zvinangwa fought repression and subjugation tooth and nail. He accepted years of a humble and humiliating life of living in the bush like an animal. He had despised the way life under colonialism constrained his parents and literally shattered the dreams of his and generations before him. With independence, he preferred keeping his life out of the world’s view unless otherwise compelled by circumstances to voice his concerns. Indeed, as soon as the war was over he quitted the military, choosing not to join the army of the independent Zimbabwe and returned home to his wife and child to pursue a conventional job with the railways.

My association with Zvinangwa had nothing to do with his son Joseph whom I got to know because I had supervised him as an intern while he was still at the University. I knew Zvinangwa long before I met Joseph and our association went as far back as the seventies when we fought the Second Chimurenga