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Munyaradzi Huni
A few months ago, you jokingly told me that I had earned your trust to write your obituary. “Write a good one Hunex. Uite zvako zviya!” It was all in jest, but I never thought this sad day would come so, so soon.
Chikonaz hamudaro mhani!
I am gutted. Big Josh (Josh Hozheri) is crushed. Jivas Mudimu is dumbfounded. Jacks (Blessing Jeke) still can’t believe you are gone.
Just like that — you have passed on to the world yonder. No proper goodbye to the Green Label Team as you called us on the WhatsApp group that you created a few weeks ago!
But on reflection, I think you gave us lots of hints that death was lurking in the shadows. We were too consumed in fun, such that we failed to notice the warnings that were hidden in your eyes, in your statements and in your mannerisms.
Sesquipedalians would call it premonition. Or maybe it was just you Chikonaz being afraid of death?
Our last WhatsApp chats should have told me that you were trying to tell me something. As I read the chats now, I can see you were saying goodbye but you didn’t want to make it obvious.
Below are some of the last chats we had starting on December 31, 2020, a few hours before God called you:
Huni: Morning. How are u feeling? Itai mupore Chikonaz. Hamusi type yekuswera makarara
[31/12/2020, 08:53] T K. Dondo: Ndeipi zviri sei . . . I am getting there..
[31/12/2020, 08:54] Huni: Zvino hamuchiona. Gud to hear. Hatidi munhu anoteta Chikonaz. Kikikik
[31/12/2020, 08:56] T K. Dondo: Kuteta hapana . . . kutodzimbwa chaizvo
[31/12/2020, 20:09] T K. Dondo: And I could have died . . . not a joke. I am in hospital St Annes.
[31/12/2020, 20:11] Huni: Ummm but u over it isn’t it?
[31/12/2020, 20:12] T K. Dondo: Am getting better . . .
[31/12/2020, 20:16] T K. Dondo: My doctor did very well . . . I salute him. He came home at 11pm akandimhanyisa ku Hospital
[31/12/2020, 20:17] Huni: Thank God!! God is great. Inga anga achitori maone chaiwo.
[31/12/2020, 20:18] T K. Dondo: I could hve died
[31/12/2020, 20:19] Huni: Apa muchindisiya hangu ndichingohumana thinkn muri kumba. I am shaken and relieved same time coz u are recovering
[31/12/2020, 20:20] T K. Dondo: I thought I was dying
[01/01, 01:03] Huni: Happy 2021 Chikonaz!!! After your ordeal, we thank God for the gift of life!!!! We are going to have an awesome year!!!!
[01/01, 11:57] T K. Dondo: Ndeipi Huni. Thanks.
We continued chatting until around 12:15pm on January 1, 2021.
On the other hand you were chatting with Josh and he tells me that around past 3pm, you told him that “I am sick . . . Its a horrible experience,” and your last words were, “Ma one let’s chat later.” And that was it.
Around 2am on January 2, 2021, you breathed your last. God decided you had finished your race on this cruel earth. When I woke up to see several missed calls from Josh and Mudimu, I instantly knew something tragic had happened, and I knew it all had to do with you.
In no time I was on the phone with Josh – he was weeping uncontrollably and couldn’t say much. A flood of tears ran down my cheeks as emotions took over. Why? Why? Why God? But then dont we always sing: “Hatina musha pano panyika . . .”
In one of my favourite classic songs, “This World is Not My Home,” Jim Reeves sings:
“This world is not my home
I’m just passing through
My treasures are laid up
Somewhere beyond the blue
The Angels beckon me
From Heaven’s open door
And I can’t feel at home
In this world anymore…”
We should have seen that the angels were beckoning you Chikonaz. A few weeks ago, while at our favourite parking place at PaHuku in Hillside you said something that we will never forget. As you danced to Allan Chimbetu’s latest hit song “Ramba Uchikakata,” you suddenly stopped dancing and said: “Vakomana nekunakidza kuri kuita hupenyu uku monzwa kuti ndafa?” After a few tense seconds, Josh chipped in saying “hapana anofa mhani boyz.” He then hugged you first, hugged me and hugged Mudimu. We all laughed as you continued your signature dance.
Uncharacteristically on this day, which turned out to be our last day together, you were in an unusual good mood. Was that the goodbye Chikonaz?
A few days before this goodbye, you spoke countless times to Mudimu about writing your will and you urged all of us to write our wills. What was that talk all about?
Some may misunderstand these fun and last moments to think our friendship was all about having fun. There was a serious side to our friendship.
As a successful businessman owning and running Impala Car Rental, Impala Car Parts and Fast Fit Matlock you taught us a lot. Of course, the lessons were always loaded in your usual cool arrogance.
I remember one day when we were in your office talking about my plans to start a communications and events management company. You listened to me for quite a while, nodding your head and when I finished explaining my plans you said:
“Good ideas and good plans, but Huni, do you know what the Nike logo says? It says ‘Just Do It!’ All these fantastic ideas will die if there is no action. Just do it!”
Indeed you were right Chikonaz. Wherever you are, I know you know about the birth pangs of On-Point Signature Productions. This is an exciting story for another day.
You also taught us something very fundamental about running a business. I remember one weekend as we drove in your car. As usual, Josh and Jakes were in their mischievous mood and they thought they could play a fast one on you.
The two told us that they were negotiating some very lucrative deal and they indicated that they were about to clinch this deal. However, the two indicated that they were facing a few nagging financial challenges and they, from the blue offered you some shares in their company.
This offer took you by surprise, but you quickly summoned the acute businessperson in you and responded: “Imi vakomana imi asi munoti ndiri bharanzi? Josh you think ndakapusa handiti?
“Why would you offer me all those shares just like that? You think I can’t see where the catch is? Vakomana zvinhu hazvidi kupfava like this? Anything that comes so cheap in business, you should know it’s not good. Kungondipa henyu mashares? Just like that. Itai mushe boyz.”
You taught us that in business, nothing comes cheap and easy. It’s about hard work, focus, passion and action. You did not only teach us through words, but we all saw how hard you worked.
“Work ethic Huni,” you would always say. “My other name is Action Dondo,” you would add. And so when the media wrote fake news that your business was owned by Mai Mugabe, Mai Mujuru, Dr Gono, Mujuru the husband and the CIO, it never bothered you.
“This shows how big Impala Car Rental has become. They can’t believe an ordinary boy from Hokonya in Chivhu can own such a massive company,” you would always tell us.
Another thing — this ordinary boy from Chivhu had a very big heart for many people, but somehow it wasn’t the same for his close friends. “I wont just give you my money boyz. Kuti maitei? Show me your loyalty and value first,” you would always tell us.
At first this really irritated us because to an outsider we looked like we were swimming in your riches, but we later realised that you were actually teaching us that “there is nothing called easy money.”
Using my licence as a close but also “arrogant friend” (somehow you always thought I was very arrogant), at times I would throw jabs at you and you were always ready with your deadly responses.
Countless times I would jokingly say; “Chikonaz mari yenyu ndeye mushonga. Makaenda kun’anga chete kunoromba.” And you would always respond saying:
“Nhai Huni, seiko idzo n’anga dzacho dzaunoti dzakandiitisa mari dzisingagari kunana Borrowdale? Sei n’anga dzacho dzisina mari?”
We would laugh, but you were very emphatic in telling us that you believed in clean money.
One of the things you were very passionate about was promoting the arts industry in general and music in particular. Due to space constraints, I can’t list all the artistes you assisted, but let me zero in on one of your last projects that I was involved in from the first day.
As the Covid-19 pandemic started, you told me that one of your wishes was to unite the Chimbetu family because Simon Chimbetu was one of your favourite musicians. I was really excited because coincidentally, Simon Chimbetu was a good friend from the old gone days.
We first met Allan Chimbetu in Dzivarasekwa, we hunted down Douglas Chimbetu and spent hours driving around looking for Tryson Chimbetu.
We later drove to Knowledge Nkoma’s studio in the Avenues area with Tryson and Allan. Sulu and Douglas later came to the studio and they all added their voices to one of the songs. We were all very excited, but in no time, the project was up in smoke — I won’t dwell too much on the petty family issues that destroyed that wonderful project, but I know how hurt you were. You were left with no option but to sponsor Allan’s latest album, “Urgent Matter.”
I hope the Chimbetu family will one day see the value and necessity of working together.
You also had a deep and immeasurable philanthropic passion. You had such a big heart, such that those who knew you described you simply as a “giver.” You helped hundreds, if not thousands of people — relatives, orphans, widows, the disabled, artists, journalists, students from disadvantaged families, street kids, taxi drivers and even outright strangers.
All these people feel orphaned and they can’t understand why you never said goodbye.
One of your friends, former Star FM DJ Phathisani Sibanda described your death aptly when we met him at Nyaradzo Funeral Parlour. He simply said: “Akomana taburukwa nebhazi.”
It was because of your philanthropic work and your big heart that many found it very hurtful and disgusting that some people needlessly attacked you on social media following the alleged abduction of Tawanda Muchehiwa. They tried to present you as a callous person, but your goodness and kindness spoke much louder than the reckless rants on Twitter and Facebook.
In your usual calm nature you repeatedly defended yourself saying:
“Nhai vanhu ava vaida kuti ndiite business rangu paTwitter and Facebook? Was that possible ethically? Does it make business sense?”
At first the attacks troubled you, but you later saw it differently as you would always say, “anomakwa ndiye ane bhora. My conscience is clear because I did all that was legally possible. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
It’s possible the needless attacks on Impala will continue, but I am so happy because I know on this one you are sleeping soundly.
One big issue that seemed to trouble you, especially during the last days, was what would become of Impala Car Rental after your demise. We spoke at length about the collapse of African businesses after the death of the founding owners.
This issue haunted you a lot even though you always put up a brave face as you assured us that you had put up a solid system in place and that you had cultivated a working culture that would enable Impala to survive in your absence.
The growth of Impala over the years is clear testimony that indeed you have a robust system and a strong team at Impala. I hope they know and understand the importance of safeguarding your legacy.
You left me a personal task, also meant to safeguard your legacy. A few months ago, you gave me parts of your draft biography that you said, we were supposed to edit and publish this year. It’s now a mammoth task since you are no longer here to conduct a few more interviews for the book as you had suggested, but I promise you – I will work with what I have to publish the book. This is my small way to honour you and thank you for all the life lessons.
Of course it wasn’t all rosy dealing with you Chikonaz because I realised that you were so used to having things your way. That is why during the first days of our friendship, we clashed a lot because, like I openly told you, I wasn’t there to say things to massage your ego.
Fortunately, Josh was always there as mediator. With time, we grew to understand and appreciate each other. A friendship built on solid foundation. You became my big brother. My 18 year-old son Silas saw you as an inspiration. After that drive to my rural home in Mhondoro a few months ago, you became a true family friend.
As we drove to Hokonya Village in Chivhu last Sunday to lay you to rest, I could see excruciating pain on your wife, Mai Two’s face. King 98 and the twin sister Ruvarashe were “stewing” in silent pain and grief. The little girl, Mudiwa, (daddy’s little girl) seemed not to understand the train smash. Somehow, the whole family showed shocking composure in the midst of heart-rending mental torture. I salute them all.
From wherever you are Chikonaz, please continue showering your lovely family with your usual support and love. They still need you.
Someone once said: “I shall not wholly die, and a great part of me will escape the grave.” I know a great part of you Chikonaz will escape the grave. Your footprints of goodness and kindness are all over and will remain etched in our troubled hearts.
Maybe Tuku was actually right when he sorrowfully sang: “Husahwira hunokunda hukama!” Stubborn tears keep flowing! Josh is a complete emotional wreck. He just cant understand why? Achanyararidza mumwe ndiani! God help us!
Due to Covid-19 restrictions, we couldn’t give you the lavish burial that you deserved, but we sang, drank your favourite Green Label whisky, danced and wept like kids all the way to Chivhu.
God willing, we will one day honour you with a big farewell music bash that you always spoke about.
We are comforted by Hebrews 13:14 which says: “For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come.”
You have gone to your permanent home, which is yet to come for us!
Go well Chikonaz! Go well Mr D! Go well Sekuru Kangi! Go well Baba Two! Go well Chikomana Biggie!
Tichazoonana kana Mwari achida!
Rest in Eternal Peace!
Peter Tanyanyiwa
Online Reporter