Chronicle Editor
By Elliot Ziwira
THE portrayal of the liberation struggle and depiction of the guerrilla fighters in Zimbabwean literature calls for sober analysis. The role that culture played in creating an enabling environment for sacrifice and hope through the invocation of the supernatural should be put to the fore. Imperialism and colonisation, the terrible twins of Western hegemony, expose the depth to which humanity can sink in its quest for superiority.
Burdened by years of denigration, oppression and betrayal fostered by Western machinations, Africans decided to unshackle themselves from the labyrinthine snare of their existence through armed confrontation. As is the case with any teething process, Zimbabwe’s armed struggle did not just manifest itself.
Early insights into the struggle expose the void that obtained between the rather pessimistic masses on the one hand and the guerilla fighters on the other. Matters were not helped because of the white Rhodesian regime’s propaganda machinery through literature meant to stop the masses from rebelling against the oppressive government.
Peter Stiff’s novel The Rain Goddess (1973) immediately comes to mind as one of the earliest books on the liberation struggle. Set years before protracted armed resistance, the book gave hope to Smith’s government. The book portrays the guerrilla fighter as a hobo, devoid of any ideological attachment to what he purports to fight for. It pits the British South Africa Police (BSAP) against the guerrillas under the ambit of Zanla and Zipra.
The guerrillas are depicted as having no connection to their people or their spiritual mediums, thus, they resort to force, intimidation and violence to recruit fighters to their ranks. The Rhodesian security forces are said to be fighting to uphold peace using force and the invocation of the black people’s mediums that connect them to the rain goddess.
Through their faith the oppressed masses are made to turn against their own heroes in support of alien ones. Though realistic elements are exploited to reflect on the thorny issues of the land, culture and justice, the book lends more weight to the white government which seems to be “winning the war”, thus alienating and criminalising the guerrilla fighter.
The question that may linger in one’s mind may be; is the guerrilla fighter a darling or a villain? However, basing on experiences captured by writers who were themselves guerrillas, the question may be answered in the affirmative. The gory incidents, sadistic inclinations and the ghastly travesty of it all are captured by Alexander Kanengoni, in Echoing Silences (1988), Thomas Bvuma in Every Stone That Turns (1998) Freedom Nyamubaya in That Special Place (2003) paint a gloomy picture of the liberation struggle and also demystify the guerrilla fighter.
However, unlike the characters in Peter Stiff’s The Rain Goddess , the characters in the trio’s fiction which is inspired by their own experiences are not only worn down by suffering, disillusionment, frustration, and deceit, but they are spurred on by their patriotism as they are not forced by anyone to join the war, but by the nature of their existence.
Also, unlike Stiff’s guerrillas, they are not shunned by their ancestors through spirit mediums, but they owe their existence and victory to their faith in the supernatural. Freedom Nyamubaya highlights the other side of the guerrilla fighter and the essence of culture in Dusk of Dawn (1995). The book is a collection of short stories and poems based on the liberation struggle and its aftermaths.
Though the defeatist tone pervading the short story That Special Place is also prevalent especially in the poetry section, as reflected in the metaphorical title, the guerrilla fighter is not portrayed as sadistic, implacable, and brutal, but humane and fallible.
In the story, The works of Mudzepete, Nyamubaya hoists the reader on a whirlwind voyage of intrigue as she examines the psychological effect of the war on the individual psyche through Temba who strives to escape from the traumatic nature of battle through a potent illicit brew, mudzepete, which heedlessly intoxicates him to such an extent that he directs the enemy troops to their hiding place, calling out:
“Hey! We are here! You are lost! Please come this way!” In his drunken stupor, he challenges his fellow comrades: “Hey comrades! Don’t be cowards. We are here to fight! Why are you hiding in the bush and every day demand sadza and chicken from the povo when you are such cowards?”
Using the first person narrative technique, the writer exposes the other side of deceit as the narrator is in ambivalence in exonerating Temba from blame and yet blaming him for selling out. With the Rhodesian soldiers in hot pursuit, the “rogue” fighter miraculously hides under “a long 30-metre drum which had been brought for cleaning.”
The writer skilfully plays on this scene as the guerrilla fighter is saved by the young woman who profanes ignorance of his whereabouts insisting that he just passed by. Nyamubaya writes: “Trembling and urinating deliberately to save the comrade, she pleaded, clapping her hands and then the soldiers went away.” Such is the nature of sacrifice driven on by hope and a unity of purpose as the masses join the struggle on the side of their liberators, which is glaringly absent in The Rain Goddess.
In The Bangle as also obtains in The works of Mudzepete, Nyamubaya, focuses on the mythical side of the war as Comrade Zuda is given larger than life prowess culminating from the bangle that he always wears on his wrist. As a leader he is flawless and humility is his forte, which makes him a darling to the villagers and his subordinates.
Unlike Nyati in That Special Place, Zuda is not driven by sadistic carnal desires to oppress his fellow comrades. He is “quite popular with the men because he never touched or showed an interest in any of the young or old women.” The writer looks at how the belief in the supernatural catapults the fighters to dizzy heights which leaves even the foe in awe. Culturally uncontrolled sexual intercourse is believed to redirect even the best of men to mediocrity, thus women are supposed to be absent in men’s camps as they prepare for battle.
It is against this backdrop, therefore, that Zuda is regarded as drawing unusual courage, bravado and excellence from his bangle and his strict principles as pertains to women. He could easily win battles on his own as he is equated to “a section of 15 soldiers.”
However, as human as he is, Zuda falls in love with a teacher from a nearby school which prompts him to promote his second in command to the rank of detachment commander; his own rank, and implore him to move on as he insists on doing it alone “single-handed and for Zimbabwe.”
Because of love, Comrade Zuda throws caution to the wind, like a mortal being that he is, and returns to Mutseva Village which is “something very unusual for a comrade to live and sleep in a house.” He “loved Chido as much as he loved the country itself”, thus he decides to live with her at the school.
By juxtaposing Zuda’s passionate love for Chido with his love for the motherland, Nyamubaya reveals the nature of sacrifice. For four months he plans, fights and wins eight battles until “somebody sold out for 30 pieces of silver…” Zuda knows all this through a dream and he prepares for battle.
Though Comrade Zuda’s story may read like an epic plucked from folklore, such fighters who could take on enemy battalions single-handedly because of their unique fighting skills realistically existed in the liberation struggle. Comrades like Masweet who operated in Murehwa, Sachikonye in Mhondoro and Musa in Bikita. Such is the beauty and glory of the people’s war aptly captured in the prose section of Dusk of Down (1995) and in the Shona fiction by Gonzo H Musengezi and Vitalis Nyawaranda.-The Herald.
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