A short story by Maxwell Perkins Kanemanyanga
Dateline: November 20 1999...
The sun is shining, the weather is fine. It is 19 years since Rhodesia became a free country Zimbabwe. Nyanga a district situated in the Eastern part of Zimbabwe witnessed a lot of bloodshed during the liberation struggle. Many families lost their loved ones, sons and daughters. Some crossed the border to neighbouring
Mozambique to become freedom fighters and they never came back home.
In the small village of Sanhani there was a place called Nyamuchuwa where more than ten young girls and boys including freedom fighters perished after a tip off by one of the villagers. This is one painful day that
all the villagers will never forget.
Chidoo and her young sister Shamiso went to the bush to look for firewood. The only place they could get dry wood was up close to the hill. Only aged fifteen and ten they were young and full of life.
Chido as the elder sister went inside the bush and told her young sister to wait outside. Just in the middle of the bush there was one big dry branch lying on the ground. Chido started breaking the small branches whilst singing and whistling. “Ndibatsireiwo ndatambura kwenguwa refu, ndinoda kuenda kumusha kwedu ndinozorora. [Please help
me; I have suffered for many years. I want to go home to my family and
rest.]" Chido looked around but could not see anyone. She continued
with her work and the voice started again. Again she looked around but
there was no one. The third time she saw where the voice was coming
from. Under the big branch were scattered bones and a skull that is
where the voice was coming from.
Till date, Chido does not remember how she ran out of the small bush and grabbed
her young sister. When she woke up she was in the arms of her shocked mother. The time she got home she fainted and when she woke up half
The family had gathered as a result of the screams of her panicking
mother. Everyone wanted to know what terrified her to the extent of
fainting. She could not talk; it took her a long time to get her
voice. When she finally did she narrated what she saw and heard. Her
family could not believe it, how could this be true? Anyway they send
message to the elders of the village who in turn informed the chief.
The chief assembled the best spirit mediums from his kingdom and
together they went to Nyamuchuwa to see the talking bones.
Ziwanani was twenty years old when he left school to join the war.
Just like any young man of his age he had high hopes for his future
and country. After two years of guerilla training in Mozambique he was
posted back to then Rhodesia in the Eastern region, Nyanga district
specifically. November 20 1979 Ziwanai was at Nyamuchuwa when tragedy
struck. There were times when freedom fighters or better known as
guerillas or [magandanga] asked the villagers to organize for them all
night long parties that were better known as pungwe. On this night
villagers will slaughter chicken and goats for them sometimes there
will be home brewed beer. The young boys and girls will help out with
taking the food from the homesteads to the base where the freedom
fighters would be based. After eating they would sing and dance
liberation songs all night long. When it was midnight the villagers
and freedom fighters were ambushed. It was a very dark night but the
Rhodesian army brought search lights that made the night look like
day. They started firing randomly on the partying villagers and
Guerilla fighters. It was chaos all over people crying and screaming,
some running for cover, and some dropping dead on the spot. Ziwanai
started running to the nearby hill where he could hide in the bush.
Unfortunately he could not make it to the hill; he was shot twice on
the right leg and right shoulder. All he could manage to do was drag
himself inside the bush where he bled to death. Later on the
villagers learnt that it was one of them who sold out to the Rhodesian
army. They took all his family away because they knew the villagers
would kill them once they found that he caused the death of more than
ten girls, boys and freedom fighters.
When the spirit mediums brought by the chief came, they took elders
from Nyamuchuwa and the young girl Chido to show them the spot. When
they got to the spot they performed rituals to call the spirit of the
deceased. This was meant to let the spirit enter one of them and
communicate with them. It was indeed Ziwanai; his family was in
Chipinge about 200 km from Nyamuchuwa. He narrated to them where he
came from and how he ended up here. The chief talked to businessmen in
the area to help them with transport. They collected all the loose
bones wrapped them in a blanket and put them in the vehicle. It took
them hours to drive around the mountains to Chipinge and when they
finally got there they went to a local school to ask for directions to
Ziwanai's family. Teachers from the school instructed one boy who was
actually the neighbour to show them. He took them to a homestead that
had two huts. One of them that looked like the kitchen had no door,
there was an empty drum that was used as a door. The old lady was
sitting under a mango tree right in the middle of the yard. She had
aged before her time, primarily due to poverty but also thinking of
her son who went to war but never came back. God only gave three
children, two boys and a girl. Of the two boys one went to war and the
other one died of aids. The girl got married but it never worked so
she came back with her two sons.
They parked their vehicle at the back of the yard. The elders and spirit mediums were the first to go. Mama Ziwanai welcomed the strangers, who quickly introduced themselves. After greetings and drinking some water they narrated their story to the poor old woman.
She started crying like a baby. “Ziwanai mwanangu chawakafira chiiko ,
inga tinongotambura wani! Mwanangu wakandirwadzisa , asi nhasi ndaona
mabhonzo ako ndofa zvangu.[ Ziwanai my poor son , you sacrificed your
life for what? We still suffer like before, we go to bed without food.
But now that i have seen your bones i can finally rest in peace.]" She
had long resigned to the fact that her son was dead but seeing his
bones wrapped in a blanket was a great relief to her. Villagers
started gathering one by one and the word of Ziwanai bones spread like
veld fire. It was indeed a mystery to them whoever heard of talking
bones? Not to be missed where the politicians from Chipinge district.
" Cde Gama , come and see this!", Kademo the member of parliament for
Chipinge took out Manica gazette and showed it to Cde Gaba who was the
resident governor of Manicaland. He read the story with a lot of
interest then turned to the MP. “You know Mr. MP this is an
opportunity for us to campaign. Elections are just around the corner
we just have to send word to the President's office with our proposal,
if they approve then we are on it." The MP did not understand what the
governor meant so he just looked at him. “I can see that you don’t
understand me. What I mean is this fallen fighter be declared a
provincial hero, we provide food , drinks , some beer transport and we
bury him officially at the heroes acre , that way we have an
opportunity to talk to the people. "
The President's office accepted the governor's proposal and gave the
governor green light to go ahead with his plans. By the end of the
night mai Ziwanai's homestead was full of Mercedes Benz, BMWs, Nissan,
Toyotas and all other posh cars of gvt officials and ministers you can
name. For the crowd they brought buses to transport the people to the
provincial heroes’ acre, there were also big trucks that brought meat,
mealie-meal and drinks for the people. The elders and family of
Ziwanai performed their last ritual; the blanket with the wrapped
bones was carefully placed in a brown coffin. Six members of the
defense forces lifted the coffin and put it at the back of a military
vehicle and followed the convoy of gvt officials and ministers who
came for the burial of a hero. By mid morning the provincial heroes’
acre was full. People came from all walks of life hoping to witness
the talking bones for themselves. The Governor of the province stepped
forward to give his prepared and written speech. “Ladies and
gentleman, government officials today is a day that reminds us of our pain of
yesterday and promise of tomorrow. We are gathered here to bury a
fighter, who as a young man sacrificed his life, his future to fight
for the independence and sovereignty of our
motherland....................................................."
UUUUUUUUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu! The crowd responded with
ululation. Ladies wearing wrap overs with the face of their president
were the loudest cheerers. Whilst most people were enjoying this there
was one young man who was not happy. Cloud popularly known as
professor by his peers was an unemployed graduate just like many young
people in his country. He witnessed his country transform from being a
bread basket of the Southern region into a house of hunger. He
witnessed friends and family members cross the borders and oceans in
search of greener pastures. As people shouted and cheered at the
governor’s message he even became angrier at them. He looked around,
and on his immediate left side were a group of young men who also
looked anxious. Professor had found audience to express his
frustrations." You know it is fun how God hides things to men by
placing them near them. Look at the posh cars of these politicians,
and here they are promising us honey and milk. Are we not all talking
bones, ourselves moving skeletons what do we have, what did we
sacrifice our lives for? Treachery, nepotism, corruption and ample
connection is the new definition of patriotism. This land we fought is
being shared by the few elite. Our fertile and rich soils are growing
weeds. These people you see in front of us have ruined everything that
was rich and glorious. They have turned abundance into want, changed
order into chaos, leaving behind only the glory of their past. Things
continue to worsen as they keep on amassing wealth and yet they keep
on urging us to bear any pain, pay any price, meet any hardship,
support any friend and oppose any foe. They urge us to look east when
the East is looking west. “The young guys looked at him and like
nodded their heads, because like him they were also unemployed
graduates.” Look at what recently happened in South Africa in what was
deemed the Marikina massacre. Miners went out in the streets to
protest for better wages and working conditions. Police opened fire
killing many protesters. Whilst the family members lost sons, fathers
and husbands for some politicians it was a chance to resurrect their
careers. To them the common man has no soul, no blood, feels no
hunger, feels no pain; in short the common man is just a walking
skeleton, talking bones."
When the governor finished his speech, people dispersed one by one. Those who belonged to the ruling part remained behind singing revolutionary songs, reminding them of the war when they were together
as one. Slowly but surely life was going back to normal , the majority going back to their empty houses , some without doors , the politicians drove off in their posh cars to their mansions...
