Obituary: Why I miss the late James Mwonzora

Morris Mtisi
THE man is dead, gone and buried. The story is sad and regrettable. As grim as it is gruesome it is real and painfully tragic, especially because it involved two school girls whose mischief caused unnecessary loss of two precious lives. But more-so because a loving headmaster and fatherly man died responsibly doing his job as both.

Narrow minded people ask, “Why was he chasing after the imps?” Nothing can be closer to foolish criticism. What would the school head have said to the DEO and PED, let alone the girls’ parents if they asked him, “What did you do when you realised two girls were being abducted from your school by strange car-hijackers?” Is it not amazing how easy it is to criticise people foolishly when we open our mouths without ensuring there is some connection between the mouth and the brain?

Well, that is expected in life. And it is not the import of this write-up. Socrates said, “I cannot teach anybody anything. I can only make them think.”

I did not attend the funeral of the Tsonzo school head myself. But I saw and spoke to many who attended-his friends, bosses in the education sector, workmates-quite a number of them. All spoke the same words. “Never seen such a large audience of mourners!”

The sheer size of the population of mourners, at any one funeral, this one included, often is a demonstration of how the deceased was known and or loved. Many spoke of how James Mwonzora was a cheerful steward of development at his school and others. How he worked well with other school heads and was a community developer who was loved and admired by many. The hundreds of mourners from the length and breadth of Zimbabwe who came to pay their last respects, spoke volumes of who James Mwonzora was.

Why do I miss Mr Mwonzora sorely and perhaps more bitterly than all of you?

The answer is very simple. You all knew him very well. I did not. He obviously knew me in person from many school heads’ forums where we met, for example NASH conferences, and of course he was an avid reader of my columns in The Manica Post. How do I know this? Mr Mwonzora had called me several times telling me how he followed my columns on education with delight and interest, especially columns on English Language and Literature. He said he would come back to me to invite me to Tsonzo once he had made the arrangements with his teachers and a little bit of money was available for my small invoices.

Then after a while, when I had almost forgotten it, he would call again, “Mr Mtisi I haven’t forgotten my request. I still want you to come and share your knowledge and experience with my English teachers and students. I will come back to you soon.” Months would elapse and he would call again, and then again and again. It was ‘I’ll come back to you’ all the way until our newspaper headline one dark Friday morning captured the story of a school head who was seriously injured in a car accident in hot pursuit of a pair of… I don’t have proper words to describe these girls, who had been willingly kidnapped by two spivs each driving a fast car to a night of joy outside the school premises. In the accident a school security guard was killed on the spot. A few weeks later Mr Mwonzora sadly succumbed to the fatal injuries and died in a Harare hospital.

It is the unfinished business between Mr Mwonzora and I that makes me miss him more than all of you. You all knew him, some very well, and I did not. I knew only his professorial and business voice on line and how I wish I had known him better. And how I wish I had fulfilled his itching that I set foot on his school to do the only thing I know best how to:

When schools open in May 2016, I will visit St Mathias Tsonzo High School, courtesy of The Manica Post, on a mission to cover the school profile and the achievements this illustrious and industrious man of the people made at Tsonzo. We can only do this in honour and loving memory of Mr Mwozora. All of us at The Manica Post, especially yours truly MM, can only say, ‘Rest in Peace our erstwhile hero in education!’ It was Henri J.M. Nouwen who said, “Our lives are unique stones in the mosaic of human existence-priceless and irreplaceable.” But we do hope those who take over the task of leading this school will emulate a lot from the light that continues to shine from wherever you are now.