Recollections and Reflections: The British Journey of One Former African Priest

By Athanasio Dzadagu

This book is an autobiographical account by Athanasio Dzadagu, a former Zimbabwean Catholic priest, outlining and reflecting on the experiences he had in Britain during the period from 1996-2014. While indeed the book is largely about the author’s own experiences as an immigrant, an African and a Zimbabwean, in many ways it is also a reflection on the experiences of Zimbabweans in Britain. These include the challenge of being far away from home, the initial shock of finding their good English not understood, experiences while undertaking further studies, the challenge of an environment characterised by persistent negative headlines about Zimbabwe and its president, Robert Mugabe and the challenge of British social and cultural values. The book also opens the reader’s eyes to how, having come to Britain hoping to return to Zimbabwe as a high-flying academic, to teach in the Major Seminary or any one of Zimbabwe’s universities, Fr Dzadagu instead ended up leaving priesthood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Apr 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524631109

Athanasio Dzadagu

A book on Archbishop Chakaipa written by Athanasio Dzadagu should make interesting reading for three major reasons. First, the author knew Archbishop Chakaipa personally. At the age of five, he first encountered Archbishop Chakaipa when the latter was his parish priest. Interaction between Athanasio and Archbishop Chakaipa continued until the archbishop’s death in 2003. What adds to the book’s appeal is that Archbishop Chakaipa himself viewed Athanasio Dzadagu as the best person to write a book about him, as communicated courtesy of a Mai (Mrs) Muchada. Secondly, many people in the Archdiocese of Harare in Zimbabwe are keenly awaiting the appearance of the book, including those who have gone into Diaspora. Finally, the book provides an opportunity for indigenous Zimbabweans to express their own opinion of Archbishop Chakaipa, considering the fact that the written commentary after his death covered only Eurogenic opinion. Regardless of having recently left the priesthood, Athanasio Dzadagu is still highly respected among members of the Zimbabwean Catholic Community in England and Wales, which he founded in 2001. There are several among these who have, in the past, urged him to write books as a way of informing an even wider community of people.

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© 2016 Athanasio Dzadagu. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/06/2019

ISBN: 978-1-5246-3108-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-3109-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-3110-9 (e)

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CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Introduction

PART A

Chapter One:           Physical journey, arrival and initial

experiences

Chapter Two:           Actual studies and related aspects.

Chapter Three:         Attitude towards Zimbabweans and other

africans

Chapter Four:           Reaction to the contempt and

discrimination

Chapter Five:           A range of social and cultural challenges

PART B

Chapter Six:             Formation and development of Zimbabwean

Catholic Community in England and

Wales.

Chapter Seven:         Relationship with the Archdiocese

Westminster

Chapter Eight:         Taking destiny into own hands

Conclusion

DEDICATION

I dedicate this book primarily to my wife Chivimbiso Mudariki and son Kudzwai Zadziso Athanasio Dzadagu. I also dedicate it to the Zimbabwean Catholic Community in England and Wales, and the wider Catholic Community which supported me throughout my training and my priestly ministry. Last but not least, I dedicate the book to the different generations of my entire family, especially my late mother, whose dream was that I would be in active priestly ministry until my death.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my wife Chivimbiso and son Kudzwai for their unstinting support and understanding throughout the process of the writing of this book. The opportunities they sacrifised for quality time with me would be too exhausting to count. The family members of any writer know this all too well. Of course in the case of my son, this was more imposed than negotiated. Of course there were occasions when both could not help but demand that quality time, each in their own ways.

I next acknowledge all family members, from both sides of our families (my wife and I) who were supportive in many different ways throughout the process, ranging from assistance with childcare to encouragement. I am very grateful to them all.

I also acknowledge the Zimbabwean Catholic Community in England and Wales, who journeyed with me from 2001, at formation, until 2008, when I was removed from my role as chaplain to them. They not only energised me, but gave me purpose, and the vast majority among them have remained supportive of me, even after I left priesthood.

I am deeply grateful to the Archdiocese of Westminster, who, even though their attitude eventually turned nasty, perhaps to the extreme, by way of their representatives who dealt with me, they offered me space in which to operate and gain invaluable lessons of life. My thanks are due to those priests of the Archdiocese of Westminster who accepted me into their presbyteries and were very supportive of me at various stages of my life in Britain while I was still a priest. Alongside them, I thank the parishioners of the different parishes I served, who enhanced my self-confidence as a priest through their trust in me and their appreciation of my ministry among them.

I finally thank the staff and students of Our Lady’s Convent High School, of the generations in which I was involved with the school. Among the staff of Our Lady’s, my thanks are due in particular to Ms Maureen Price and Mrs Margaret Dixon for bringing me into their ranks as a trainee teacher and chaplain, a role that met my life’s secondary vocation (to priesthood at the time), of being a school classroom teacher for a while. Being involved with students and offering them guidance, even if eventually largely as a chaplain, brought me great fulfilment and a sense of purpose. Both students and staff challenged me constructively, thus enabling me to minister to them in a way that responded to their spiritual and pastoral needs, obviously to the level of my ability.

INTRODUCTION

The recollections and reflections here, as the title goes, are specifically an autobiographical account of the journey of experience that Fr Dzadagu travelled in Britain, from his arrival in August 1996 until his departure from priesthood on 13th October 2014. The book is an invitation to the reader, by the author, Fr Dzadagu, to journey with him through his different British experiences during this period, as recalls and reflects on them, ending with his leaving priesthood.

The journey of recalling and reflecting on these experiences is not laid out necessarily chronologically, that is, according to the sequence of events that Fr Dzadagu experienced. Rather the presentation has a more thematic than chronological bent. That means, rather than following the different events involved according to their order of occurrence, the presentation is more in accordance with the nature of the different issues Fr Dzadagu faced, the significant events he experienced, and his reflections on these.

For convenience of focus, the book is divided into two parts, A and B.

Part A deals with how, when he left Zimbabwe to go to Britain in August 1996, to pursue further studies, Fr Dzadagu expected to fit in seamlessly into British society, especially considering his good command of the English language as well as his wide experience as an adult, of working in different environments, particularly away from family and other loved ones. To his frustration and disillusionment, like other Zimbabweans, he frequently found his English not understood, nor did he immediately understand the English of those British people who spoke to him. Not only that, but he also felt enormously out of place, devastatingly homesick for Zimbabwe (the country as a geographical space, the people and their culture, including food, language, music and even ways of worship (liturgy in Catholic speak)). He had not expected to feel so homesick at his age and with his abundant experience of working away from home and loved ones.

The actual studies themselves which he came to undertake are another aspect Part A looks at. These are explored from the point of view of what precisely Fr Dzadagu studied, how he found the environment in the British University Colleges that he attended, how he performed academically and what impact, if any, these studies had on his life. There were obviously some challenges Fr Dzadagu encountered during this pursuit, not least among them his development of the major health problem of chronic renal failure.

In addition to experiences in relation to these issues, Part A also explores the wide range of British social and cultural practices that challenged his worldview to its limit. Anyone who is brought up in a particular society with its own social and cultural values finds it challenging to fit into another, at least initially. So this part outlines how Fr Dzadagu coped, or not, with the British social and cultural (socio-cultural) values.

Apart from being an immigrant, and an African for that matter, far away from home, being a Zimbabwean in Britain had its own added significance in that there was a special relationship between Britain and Zimbabwe. Zimbabwe was a country the British had desired so much that even though they had been reluctant to give up on their rule over such other African countries as Malawi, Kenya, Ghana, Zambia and others, Zimbabwe was one they did not wish to relinquish and never thought they would. It was highly desirable both for its natural resources as well as its more clement climate. At one time Zimbabwe had the biggest population of British settlers, some of them having retreated from parts of Africa that had become independent, and others having been sent there from India. There were yet others who were brought there for rewards in the form of land for having fought for Britain in the so-called second world war. Why is this Britain-Zimbabwe relationship important here? The significance lies in that Zimbabwe having become independent in 1980, it raises the question of what kind of attitude Britain had, by 1996, towards that independence. What kind of attitude would Zimbabweans, including Fr Dzadagu, find among the British towards them? As it turned out, many British people, especially among the adult generations, did not, in practice, acknowledge Zimbabwe’s independence. Many did not even accept the name Zimbabwe. This was expressed practically daily in the British social and cultural environment, where a persistently hostile attitude towards Zimbabwe’s ruling party (ZANU PF), and in particular, its president, Robert Mugabe, obtained. This was manifest in anti-Mugabe rhetoric among politicians, the British media, as well as among private individuals (including parishioners and priests in the different parishes in which Fr Dzadagu resided). How did such a person as Fr Dzadagu deal with this reality, being someone who both loved his independent country of Zimbabwe and had looked forward to being in Britain?

Without blindly agreeing with all that Mugabe and ZANU PF were doing, Fr Dzadagu took the position of never shying away from expressing his patriotic view, defending Mugabe and his political party where he agreed with them, which disappointed and even angered several of his Eurogenic¹ British interlocutors. Obviously there will be those Zimbabweans of a different political persuasion who might be disappointed to hear that Fr Dzadagu defended Mugabe’s views in certain aspects, but hopefully they also bear in mind that no matter how fervently they believe in their particular political persuasion, they do not have a right to compel it upon others. Fr Dzadagu himself does not have a right to compel his own political persuasion upon them or anyone else.

Besides this anti-Mugabe rhetoric, Fr Dzadagu also experienced a general Eurogenic and particularly British disdain for Afrogenics, and Africans in particular. It might make unpleasant reading for some, where Fr Dzadagu advances the argument about British and Eurogenic contempt for Afrogenics and Africans, makes observations about racist attitudes, advancing arguments which may perhaps appear to be an obsession with the unhealthy Eurogenic attitudes of a bygone era, chip on the shoulder stuff. It may be deemed as possibly motivated by a desire to insult, or as a sign of ingratitude for all that he has benefited from Britain. Fellow Africans who have also benefited from Britain may feel embarrassed that their fellow African is saying such things. Fr Dzadagu is one who will not deny that he has benefited from Britain himself personally, both in terms of academic education, development of a deeper awareness of the wider world, and, above all, his very life, by way of medical treatment, as will be shown in the book. Yet where the arguments he puts across about British contempt and racism towards Africans are based on fact, one needs to stop and think. In this, there can easily be an acceptance, especially by Africans, of unpleasant and even derogatory comments from Eurogenic writers, including contemporary ones, such as Danielle Steel and Lionel Shriver, and yet an undue discomfort at and perhaps immediate rejection of any reverse observation and conclusions drawn by an African or an Afrogenic, even if backed by evidence. One need only have listened to Serena Williams’ acceptance speech at winning the 2015 Sports Illustrated’s Sportsperson of the Year award. She highlighted not only the many times she was written off because she was a woman, but the innumerable challenges she faced because of the colour of her skin. She aptly quoted Maya Angelou to great effect. One need also remember the KKK (Ku Klux Klan) still exists today in America, the supremacist group which believes in and fights for Eurogenic superiority over Afrogenics and complete physical and social separation from them.² Nor should one forget that some significant Afrogenic actors boycotted the 2016 Oscars on account of the inherent racism in the nominations for and actual winning of awards in main categories. There is also the book of poetry by Claudia Rankine entitled Citizen: An America lyric, published in 2015, which powerfully highlights the racism experienced by African Americans today. Indeed, these examples here are American, and one could easily argue that the American Eurogenics could be racist, but not the British. In this book, Fr Dzadagu shows how he himself experienced or observed British racism towards Africans and Afrogenics. Therefore, the comments he makes on this matter are not the stuff of fiction, or a mere obsession with the racist treatment of Africans from a bygone era.

As unpleasant reading as the comments and reflections may be, it must be noted that it is misguided or disingenuous politeness to tell a friend that he or she is well dressed, when one clearly knows the friend will be a laughing stock in public. Jesus did not allow his being a guest in the house of Simon the Pharisee to blind him to his host’s self-conceit in contrast to the genuineness of a woman whom the latter despised (Luke 7:36-50). So Fr Dzadagu’s being a guest in Britain need not gag him from making honest observations about their way of life and some of their negative attitudes towards Afrogenics and Africans. Besides, Smart and Konstantine advise against anyone judging another person until one has walked one mile in that person’s moccasins, until one has actually experienced life from that person’s perspective.³ So, one who wishes to reject or indeed agree with Fr Dzadagu’s arguments, needs to first walk a mile through his experiences.

As already pointed out, Fr Dzadagu’s observation and criticisms of what was or is generally negative about British culture and society especially in its relationship with the Afrogenic world, did not thus blind him to the good things that also happen in and characterise the country and society, some of which he notes. For him these good things were sources of inspiration for his view of how some matters should or could be approached in his own father and motherland, for improvement in political, social, commercial delivery and other areas. Noting these positive experiences was in line with his principle in life that there is always something good to learn from those around him, even if there are negatives about the same people here and there. In this regard he always remembers fondly the constant refrain of one of the first two indigenous Zimbabwean Catholic priests, Fr Isidore Chikore: Truth is truth, even if said by your enemy. So goodness is goodness, even if displayed by a generally or even predominantly malevolent person.

Part B of the book centres around those experiences which ultimately led to Fr Dzadagu leaving priesthood. As of now, all that people know is what was posted in the Zvesvondo Newsletter of the Zimbabwean Catholic Community in England and Wales on Wednesday, 15th October 2014, and subsequently uploaded onto social media by some social media enthusiasts. In that post, Fr Dzadagu presented his struggles with celibacy as his main reason for leaving priesthood. On the contrary, without discounting the contribution of the celibacy issue, the breakdown of his relationship with the Archdiocese of Westminster actually constituted the main reason for his departure from priesthood, specifically the diocese’s negative attitude towards him and his situation.

Some of the treatment Fr Dzadagu received from the Archdiocese of Westminster might actually be shocking to both members of the laity and even to fellow priests and religious, as they may be completely contrary to their expectation of how priests should relate with each other or how priests should be treated by their bishops.

In the first place, Fr Dzadagu developed chronic renal failure while undertaking his studies. The development of this major health problem had huge implications not just for his studies, but also for the period he would stay in Britain. The dire economic situation in his own home country did not bode well for provision of adequate health care for this health condition, if he had opted to return. This resulted therefore in the need for him to stay on in Britain beyond completion of his studies. The health problem, alongside the taking up of a paid job as a teacher at one point, and above all, his formation and development of the Zimbabwean Catholic Community in England and Wales, led to the breakdown of his relationship with the Archdiocese of Westminster as well as his own home (Zimbabwean) bishop. The breakdown of that relationship constituted the main reason why he left priesthood.

The Archdiocese of Westminster decided from early on that because of these developments just mentioned (health problem, taking up a paid job and founding the Zimbabwean Catholic Community), they did not want Fr Dzadagu around, not just in their diocese, but in the country as well. To make matters worse, his own home (Zimbabwean) bishop appeared to join in on the act, perhaps without knowing that was effectively what he was contributing to. The Archdiocese of Westminster, with the support of the ZCBC (Zimbabwe Catholic Bishops’ Conference) and specifically Fr Dzadagu’s own home bishop (Archbishop Robert Christopher Ndlovu), humiliatingly removed him from being chaplain to the Zimbabwean Catholic Community. Their mantra was: Fr Dzadagu should not be receiving treatment from the NHS; the treatment he had received had already restored his health and so he should return to Zimbabwe; he should not have taken up a paid job, even though residing in their diocese was on condition that he should not rely on them for financial support; and finally, he should not have founded the Zimbabwean Catholic Community in England and Wales, and should not be its official chaplain, because that was not the purpose for which he had originally come to Britain. In the face of this constant negativity, including being practically made homeless at one time, Fr Dzadagu concluded that he was neither wanted by the Archdiocese of Westminster nor by his own Zimbabwean bishop. If he was to remain alive at all, for possibly some years, the only viable option for him was leaving priesthood.

The purpose of his journey from Zimbabwe to Britain was in order to acquire academic knowledge, to open his eyes to the wider world, and come back to Zimbabwe highly enriched and ready to inspire the local Catholic Church and the Zimbabwean nation. Instead, to the great shock and surprise of many around him, leaving priesthood turned out to be the ultimate destiny of that first ever journey by aeroplane to Britain in 1996.

Although the account is written in the third person, it is the subject of the story, Fr Dzadagu himself, who is the author, as indicated earlier. The main focus of the story is the period from August 1996 to October 2014, when he was still in priestly ministry. However, there are inescapable passing references to the longer, earlier part of his life, as well as the period from October 2014 to the time of the book going to print. Owing to the story mainly focusing on this period during which he was still a priest in active ministry, he will invariably be referred to here as Fr Dzadagu. Besides, this is an identity under which he functioned for twenty-six years of his adult life (including one year of diaconate), and is the identity and title by which he is known by thousands of people. Even if he is no longer in priestly ministry, many still invariably address him by this title. Incidentally, the sacrament of orders (ordination) cannot be revoked or removed, it is performed once, and it remains forever, just like baptism and confirmation. These are the three sacraments that instil an indelible character or mark on the soul, according to Catholic teaching. So once a priest, forever a priest, even if one is laicised. Furthermore, the title Fr (Baba in Shona) is also applied every day to married Shona men, as heads of households. As such, whichever meaning people have in mind when they address him as Baba, there is nothing out of order.

Even though the 1996-2014 phase of his life is a substantial period, in terms of duration, it is only a small part of the complex story of his life. So hopefully no reader will be hoping to come away knowing all about him simply from looking at this period of his life. That his story is complex is not unique to him. Every individual person’s story has its complexities, which make it unique from those of all others. And every person’s story has lessons to teach other people. People’s personal stories can be sources of inspiration to others, where for instance they dealt with adversity without panicking or descending into despair, how they achieved success despite great odds against them, how they handled success or even failure, and why they speak and act the way they do, and so on. Indeed, lessons for others can be drawn from the very opposite of the above characterisations, e.g., learning not to despair from the life story of someone who descended into despair, learning how to love, to appreciate, to support others, from the life of someone who was aggressive, abusive and exploitative of others, and so on. To the extent that every person’s story has lessons to teach other people, Fr Dzadagu’s is therefore not the only one worth being written. So, the fact that his story is written here, or at least that part of it in which he was mainly a priest in Britain, does not render that story any more important than that of anybody else.

Writing about oneself, as Fr Dzadagu is doing here, might suggest the rendering of a complete picture about himself. Nevertheless, everyone who tells their own story naturally tells it from their own point of view. And Fr Athanasio Dzadagu is no exception. This is particularly important to bear in mind where interpretation of other people’s words and actions is concerned. If those other people were given the opportunity to give their own account and interpretation of the same matters, there would be bound to be differences here and there, even in the choice of what to include or exclude from the account.

There will be instances in which Fr Dzadagu responded to situations in particular way, situations to which other Zimbabweans responded in a completely different way, e.g. on political or racial issues. It is a well-known fact among priests that no matter how inspired a given sermon they may deliver might be, not all members of the congregation will view it in the same way. One comes away at the end of worship feeling really fired up for some action, e.g. changing certain habits in his or her life, while another might be in meditative mood, completely overwhelmed or challenged and meditating on the priest’s sermon. At the same time there are others who have heard that very same sermon, yet come away only thinking of their next shift at work, their next visit to the pub (beer hall), the prospects of their agricultural crop, the present they want to buy for spouse or child, the latest football results, and so on, all things non-related to the sermon preached by the priest. Some may actually have been thinking about these things the very time the priest was preaching. So if one were to ask them what the priest preached, they might well not have the foggiest idea or might have forgotten, not because they have dementia, but because the sermon just did not touch them, or they were too pre-occupied with other matters in their minds. The same applies to life’s everyday experiences. Therefore, Fr Dzadagu shall not presume that the way he responded to different situations or his interpretation of them is exactly the same as the response or interpretation of his fellow Africans will necessarily be the same as their own.

In terms of accuracy of references to other people’s words or actions, the reader can rest assured that the account of what took place or what was said is as accurately rendered here as possible. This applies in particular to the words and actions of members of the Zimbabwean Catholic Community in England and Wales, the hierarchy of the Archdiocese of Westminster and his own Zimbabwean bishop. The hope for an accurate rendering of what took place or was said is not baseless. Since the age of 19, Fr Dzadagu has made it his life’s mission to record most of the major events in his life, as well as his thoughts about these. By March 2016, he had 19 handwritten volumes of accounts and reflections altogether, usually recorded on the day, or within a few days of the event or thought occurring. He has also kept a stock of significant communications (letters and emails) with people who have mattered to him in his life, positively or negatively, including while he was a priest in Britain. He draws or quotes from these in this account. Of course family life may now come in the way of maintaining this mission.

The experiences Fr Dzadagu had at the hands of the Archdiocese of Westminster and his own home bishop show that a human being is a human being, whether one is a religious nun, a priest, bishop or indeed pope. Thus the hierarchy’s treatment of Fr Dzadagu shows that becoming a priest or being raised to the position of bishop does not of its own accord remove the negative personal character traits that some individuals can have from their upbringing or sometimes from their miseducation. A priest or a bishop can still be as mean and cruel as some loathed dictators around the world, or some cruel fathers, mothers, husbands and wives in families. The same goes for positive attitudes and feelings, where these occur.

Since Fr Dzadagu had some experiences similar to those of ordinary lay people who were or still are Zimbabwean or African immigrants in Britain, many among them will find in his account an echo of what they went or are going through. To that extent the book will also provide a window through which Africans who have remained in the father and motherland can see and understand the experiences of those many other Zimbabweans and Africans who came to live or work in Britain. For these, the book will in in this way echo what they have already heard from their relations and associates in Britain, or what they have picked up from the media, about life in Britain. Furthermore, the book will probably open their eyes to features they were hitherto unaware of, features which perhaps their relations and associates had not shared with them. The book will certainly not pretend or purport to portray all that Fr Dzadagu experienced in Britain in the period in question, as this would be too cumbersome an undertaking and would result in too large a volume of work to read.

PART A

Physical journey, arrival in Britain, studies, health problem, socio-cultural challenges.

CHAPTER ONE

PHYSICAL JOURNEY, ARRIVAL AND INITIAL EXPERIENCES

BRIEF BACKGROUND

This journey on which Fr Athanasio Dzadagu invites the reader to retrace with him his experiences in Britain from 1996 until he left priesthood in October 2014, and his reflections upon these experiences, began with a series of on and off discussions with his ordinary, Archbishop Chakaipa of the Archdiocese of Harare (Zimbabwe), about going abroad for further studies, where to go and what to actually study. The discussions started in 1991 and came to a conclusion in early 1996 when Fr Dzadagu was handed application forms to fill in for a place for a Master’s degree at the Jesuit run Heythrop College, Kensington, University of London. By the time his departure for Britain drew near, in early August 1996, Fr Dzadagu was approaching seven years of priestly ministry since ordination on 3rd September 1989.

DEPARTURE FROM ZIMBABWE AND PHYSICAL JOURNEY

A farewell celebration was held in his honour at St Michael’s Mission, in Mhondoro, where he had been both a teacher of Religious Education and English language (for five years) as well as in charge of the entire institution (for almost two years). Another was held with his family and friends in Glen View, in the house of one of his brothers, Fidelis Dzadagu. Regardless of his having been a strict individual in the area of discipline at St Michael’s Secondary School in Mhondoro, rather than rejoice that he was leaving, the vast majority of students felt deeply saddened, some of them even reduced to tears. Those who were able to vocalise their feelings stated that with his departure, they were being left with no proper authority in the place to ensure a conducive environment for their academic progress.

At the family celebration, Fidelis lamented his imminent departure as entailing that he would now be left alone in supporting the Dzadagu family financially. For him Fr Dzadagu had been his right hand person in meeting the family’s welfare needs. The speeches that were given by the Catholic friends and associates of Fidelis and his wife, from the Glen View 3 Section of St Matthews’ parish, included expressions of pride that ‘their own’ had received such an honour as to be selected to go abroad, to England for that matter, for further studies. They looked forward to his returning one day, to do them even more proud by taking up a lecturer post at Chishawasha Regional Major Seminary.

The next day practically the entire family accompanied him to the Harare International Airport to see him off. When the time came for going into the departure lounge, handshakes and hugs were shared with him, and off he went. He was to later learn though that he left behind a huge grievance among the family members, that upon his going through the barriers, he never looked back to wave to the frantically waving family members. He was to make several attempts, but all in vain, to counter this grievance with the argument that he had already shaken hands with them and verbally said his farewells. However, none of the family members took this explanation on board apart from his older brother Fidelis. Upon the younger priest brother’s return in 1998, Fidelis was to argue that all those family members who were aggrieved were missing the point. His younger brother was a resolute person who knew what he was doing, and who, if he decided on a destination, did not look back. He went on to argue that just as he had not looked back on his way to board the plane in 1996, he had on his return, upon disembarking from the plane, not looked back at it. This was actually a strong principle that the younger brother had, although Fr Dzadagu did not reckon he lived up to it to the extent this older brother argued.

Although Fr Dzadagu put on a brave public face as he contemplated and approached travelling by air for the first time, in reality he was jelly-kneed. While on the aeroplane it was amazing to see himself above the clouds, at the same time he could not control his imagination constantly picturing the aeroplane’s engines suddenly failing, and the aircraft hurtling down through those clouds and crashing onto a mountain, breaking to pieces or exploding into a ball of fire in the process. In such a scenario he and his fellow passengers would get burnt beyond recognition. He also imagined the aircraft hurtling into the sea far below and drowning, with him and the other passengers becoming food for the fish and other sea creatures. Besides, it did not help that he remembered listening to news about the Pan American Flight 103 which was brought down in a huge ball of fire by a terrorist bomb explosion on 21st December 1988. He had also heard of terrorist hijackings of aeroplanes. To make matters worse, during the flight, there were several incidents of terrifying turbulence which he had had hitherto no idea about, and which gave him a high level of panic, thinking that this was it, the plane was definitely going down. Yet as the priest he was, he had trained himself to exercise as much self-control on the exterior as possible, however threatening the situation might be, so that those around him, especially the laity and students he had been serving, would not panic beyond control. He had listened to illustrations and explanations of how to deal with an emergency exit from the plane, including putting on the emergency kit. To this day, even after flying a countless number of times, he has never got to understand the process. On board entertainment provided a good bit of distraction. An added distraction was fascination with the shape of clouds as he looked at them from above. Some of them looked like snow-white cotton wool, and indeed looked as fluffy as cotton wool would. Others looked like mountains, others like different types of animals or birds. In fact, paying attention to these was frequently a deliberate endeavour to suppress the dark thoughts of possible disaster scenarios. While the aircraft take off had made him feel like his intestines were just slipping downwards and out of his body, landing gave him the feeling that his intestines and other internal organs were rising up into his chest and further up.

Fr Dzadagu also faced the challenge of eating on board flight meals. Not only were the portions very small, but not having been much of a restaurant person, he was unfamiliar with some of the foods. So there were awkward moments when the question was asked what he wanted for his dinner or what he wanted for his breakfast, as well as the drinks to accompany or in between. He relied on guesswork or simply went by what the person next to him had chosen, not the best policy when approaching food. How to handle the eating on the plane was a further challenge. Again on this he relied on discreetly watching what those beside him were doing who seemed more experienced with aeroplane travel: how to manipulate the small space, using the small tubs of milk for tea, and so on. While he was largely on the extreme of not asking for an extra drink, there were others who were on the other end of the spectrum, unceasingly asking for glass after glass of wine, or bottle after bottle of beer, as if they had never seen these in their lives. Fr Dzadagu was to witness an embarrassingly worse situation years later, on a connecting flight from South Africa to Zimbabwe, when some man, in his sixties by looks, initially asked for two bottles of beer. Within no time, he had gulped these down and asked for another, after which he again asked for yet another, at which point he was told by of the serving cabin crew member that this fourth drink would be the last one, otherwise not only would other passengers not have enough to drink, but also the quantity would be beyond the permitted level, considering the short duration of the flight.

ARRIVAL IN BRITAIN

Upon arrival at Gatwick Airport, he was met by some priest in his early sixties, holding a piece of cardboard with Athanasio’s name written on it. He had been wondering all through the flight how he would recognise the person waiting for him. The priest was Fr Peter Griffiths SJ. He was at the time the priest in-charge of the St Ignatius’ Stamford Hill Jesuit Community, where Fr Dzadagu was supposed to go and live. Unfortunately, the presbytery was at the time undergoing repairs, which had overrun. So, just as the already existing members of the community were being housed in different Jesuit houses around London, Fr Dzadagu had also to be accommodated elsewhere until such time as the repairs had reached completion, the expectation then being December of that year. An arrangement for him had thus been made with a sister Jesuit house, No. 9 Edge Hill, Wimbledon, SW19 4LR. So to this house, Fr Peter Griffiths took him.

LONELY AND HOMESICK

Fr Dzadagu had told himself he would not suffer from loneliness at all, because he was an individual who loved reading, searching for new ideas (especially philosophical and spiritual) and inspiration. So books would keep him occupied, both before and after commencing his studies. Above all, he had been to boarding school from the age of fourteen, straight from primary school, and after that, his further training for priesthood as well as the priestly ministry itself had most of the time kept him away from those he dearly loved, especially family members. Yet he had not experienced any undue problems. He had actually been so looking forward to going abroad, to Britain, that he had composed a song to that effect, to sing to the school at his departure, with the group of students who were members of a guitar singing club. He had routinely done this sort of thing at important junctures of the school life. The song was calculated to, among other purposes, reassure the students and calm down their emotions. The song conveyed the message that his going was for their good, and one day, they too would bid farewell to people they loved, in order to do some important things in life. It was entitled I’ve got to go my friends.

To his own great shock, within two weeks of his arrival in Britain, he was already looking at the calendar on a daily basis, and counting the ‘days’, not just ‘months’, remaining till he should complete his Master’s degree and be on his way back home to Zimbabwe. Yet this was early August, and registration at Heythrop College would only be by end of the month. He suddenly discovered that he was back to the feelings he had had on his first night in boarding school at the age of fourteen, when he had cried into his pillow throughout the night, ‘hating his mother’ for having sent him to a place (Chimanimani) so far away that he could not tell the directions of home. Although he did not cry this time around, the feeling was the same, and it shocked him that he should feel that lonely and homesick at his adult age. He sorely missed family and friends.

The physical outlay of London did not help either. To him the city was simply a jungle of buildings, encircled and connected by roads, railway lines and road and railway bridges. There were no open spaces in the immediate vicinity of most residential areas in which to walk freely, to clear one’s head, as there were in Mhondoro and any other part of Zimbabwe he might imagine. The only open spaces available were considerable distances away, called the commons, which were parks where people could go to jog about, to kick a football about, to relax alone or with friends, or even have a picnic. In his case to walk far from home risked getting lost, because in given localities, the houses were all built, in the very same style; wall structure, roof and entire building colour. In many instances it was even difficult to tell apart, houses in one area against those of a different area, by way of style. It was a far cry from the Zimbabwean situation where, if one does not know the street number of the house he or she is seeking, he or she can describe to a potential helper the colour of the house, whether the house is gated or not, dura-walled or not (and what type of gate or dura-wall it has), and so on. He or she could also describe it by some significant structure in its proximity. If one were inquiring by road name, if the road were Simon Mazorodze, all a helper needed to do was explain how the inquirer could get to that road. The problem with British cities, as Fr Dzadagu discovered in his very early days, much to his shock and confusion, is that they usually have one name for one kilometre (of course they use miles for distance measurement in Britain), and then over the following kilometre, the very same road is known by another name. The exception is the major roads that encircle cities, lead out of cities or connect one city to another, especially the A roads and the Motorways. So in his early days, the safest option for Fr Dzadagu was to remain indoors most times, only going out some very short distances where he used the same stretch of road, both for going and coming back.

Even though he had sensed the complexity of getting around in the locality of his residential area, part of him still believed it should be easy for him, ‘the master of Harare roads’. However, the difficulty of mastering London roads further hit home to Fr Dzadagu after he made a trip into the city on his own. One day, one of his Jesuit housemates took him on an introductory tour of central London, via Waterloo train station. They then used underground trains, coming to the surface in the centre of the city, and then walking around the Barbican, St Paul’s Cathedral and a few other places his host considered of significance. By geographical size, London was a city which for comparison with the Zimbabwean scene, was for Fr Dzadagu the equivalent of the entire area covered by the city of Harare, Chitungwiza and places north of Harare as far as Mverechena, and west as far as Norton.

Shortly after this trip, Fr Dzadagu decided to venture into the city on his own, to test his confidence, believing it should be a straightforward affair. He recalls getting off the train at Waterloo station, walking along Waterloo Road and then turning onto Blackfriars Road. His intention was to walk a small square route, so that he could familiarise himself with that patch to start off with. So having identified this Blackfriars Road, he thought if he followed it for some distance, turned left onto a different road, and then made three more left turns, he would end up on that same road. He had memorised the name of this same road branching off from Blackfriars Road. He never came across it again, and actually stood the serious risk of getting completely lost. He was actually relieved to get back home without getting stuck in the city, with no mobile phone in those days.

The 1990s belonged to the era before Abbey National was taken over by Santander. Upon first reaching Blackfriars Road, Fr Dzadagu saw the name Abbey National on some building. He rubbed his hands in joyful pride, telling himself how back in the house in the evening, he would boast that he had successfully navigated his way around a part of London on his own, with the evidence that he had seen Abbey National on Blackfriars Road. Yet some five hundred metres on, he saw another Abbey National branch. Then as he continued his exploratory trip, he saw branch after branch after branch of Abbey National. He then realised that this Building Society had very numerous branches around the city of London. So it was pointless to get back home and say he had seen Abbey National, because the question would be asked, ‘Which branch?’ This was unlike in Zimbabwe where if one arranged to meet someone at Fourth Street CABS, Harare, the person would not get lost because there is only one CABS on Fourth Street in Harare.

Owing to staying indoors most days and times, and with no books of a particular focus to catch his fancy, Fr Dzadagu ended up watching TV from morning till evening. In this way he got to know and like soap operas such as Coronation Street and Emmerdale, as well as situation comedies (sit coms) such as Only Fools and Horses, The Good Life, Allo Allo and so on. He also got to know about and develop an interest in sports for which he would never have ordinarily spared his time, such as cricket and golf. At the time, Italian football was shown on terrestrial TV every Sunday, on BBC 4, and so, watching it became a regular pastime too, in the process getting to know such outstanding African and Afrogenic players as George Weah, Lilian Thuram, as well as of course some outstanding Italian players of the time.

In addition, to further assuage his loneliness, Fr Dzadagu began to watch and follow the goings on in the English Premier League. He had heard and read about Liverpool in Zimbabwe, especially because Bruce Grobbelaar, the former Zimbabwean international goal keeper, had played for this club for several years. This led to his emotional draw to Liverpool, which has stayed with him to this day, regardless of the repugnance to him of the city’s historical role in enslaving Africans. His draw to Liverpool Football Club actually led to a stupid a couple of years after his arrival in London. One day, while going to some function, he came out of some tube (underground) train at Liverpool Street Station in Central London. He suddenly felt very excited and decided to delay getting to his desired destination while walking along this street looking for the Liverpool Football Club Stadium. Little did he realise at the time that Liverpool, where the Football Club is based, is actually a major city in its own right, in the north-west of England.

By that time Ruud Gullit was playing for Chelsea Football Club, becoming player manager during that July/August 1996. Fr Dzadagu had first watched him play for the Netherlands in the 1990 World Cup, mesmerising and demolishing opponents in his dazzling combination with Marco van Basten. Gullit’s mastery of the ball had captivated him then, as he saw in his performance, some of the things he himself had been able to do with the ball, as well as those he had not been able to do. So just knowing that Gullit was then playing for Chelsea, coupled with the club’s blue coloured kit which was similar to that of his favourite Zimbabwean team, Dynamos (Dembare), led him to a strong liking for this club as well. This emotional tie with the club has also remained with him to this day, although incidents of racism at the club, alleged and actual, just as at Liverpool, do not sit well with him. Nevertheless, this draw towards the English Premier League considerably helped, but did not totally erase his feeling of loneliness and homesickness. These different adopted pastimes were merely pretend curatives. Deep down he just wished he was back on Zimbabwean soil.

In honesty to himself, as he had always tried to be, since he started writing a record of his life, he decided to express his homesickness in song. Writing his thoughts and sometimes putting them into music was a way of communicating to himself thoughts he could not communicate to other people, because they would either be shocked or would not understand the thoughts, at least at the particular times he wrote them. Thus he composed and recorded a number of songs on this theme, songs which either took him back to Zimbabwe or simply lamented his strange physical, social and cultural surroundings. One of the songs, composed in his father and mother Shona language, was about St Michael’s Mission, in Mhondoro, his last place of work in Zimbabwe. He brought into the song his priest-colleagues, the children in nursery, primary as well as secondary school pupils. He also reflected on the church and hospital, and other features and activities at this mission station, which gave meaning to life for the community in its immediate environs as well as those in the wider geographical area of Mhondoro.

Translated into English, some of the lyrics of the song run thus:

I have thought of you, from this far away place,

Far away beyond oceans

Remembering you St Michael’s

My heart aches.

Remembering your main entrance

Which displays your motto

Decorated by honourable Mafararikwa

My heart aches.

Whoever wants to offer his/her heart

to the God of Heaven and Creator

The temple of prayer is available

At the centre of St Michael’s

In another song, also composed in Shona, he retrospectively bade farewell to friends and associates as he prepared to go to a strange, far away country. By this time, he sorely missed sadza (the Zimbabwean staple), the Shona language