This is what the liberation struggle taught us to be

IN our column this week we are focusing on Cde Hazel Sibanda whose pseudo name is Hazel Ndlovu. We are picking her narration of her experiences from Yithi Laba: Diaries of the role of Zapu-ZPRA Women Combatants in the liberation struggle of Zimbabwe Volume One, a book written by Methembe Hillary Hadebe, a graduate of History from Midlands State University.

My name is Hazel Sibanda, although Lynna Nyoni is the name that I was given at birth. My war name was Hazel Ndlovu but I still maintain the name till today. I was born in 1959 in Botswana. I joined the war while I was 17 years old in 1976.

I spent my entire childhood in Botswana. I was brought up by my maternal grandfather who migrated from Zimbabwe to Botswana. My mother was a housemaid in the then Rhodesia working in a low-density suburb and my father was Kalanga based in Botswana with full citizenship. They were together with my mother.

I did my primary school at Sikano School at Francistown, Botswana and proceeded to do my secondary education at Tutune McConnel Community College where I did Form One to Three. During that time in Botswana, Form Three was considered Ordinary Level and others would proceed to do Form Four to Five which was considered Advanced Level.

After completing Form Three, I went back home as I waited for my results. I had also applied to a nursing school in Gaborone. Initially, I had told my parents that I wanted to pursue nursing as a career. However, I ended up joining the liberation struggle of Zimbabwe at the Zimbabwe House in Botswana where there was a guy called Mnyamana or Black Swine.

I was inspired to join the liberation struggle by my mother’s cousin called Ndebele. He was an already trained ZPRA combatant who used to come visit my grandfather together with some of his friends on their way to the operational areas.

I used to admire their combat gear and felt inspired so much that while I had the aspiration of becoming a nurse, I was now wishing to become a soldier. Mnyamana knew me, he knew my family background, my family and my grandfather.

On one of my visits to the Zimbabwe House to see Mnyamana, I told him that I wanted to join the liberation struggle, he simply told his colleagues this one (referring to me) should not go to transit camp, the moment she goes there her grandfather is likely to come and drag her out of the camp.

They told me to wait a day or two. This was done so that I was flown to Zambia without undergoing transit camp process.

The day came and I joined others that were coming from Zimbabwe and flew to Zambia. I’m told my grandfather wanted to follow me shortly after the plane had taken off. It is alleged that when they told him that I had flown, showing him the plane that I had left with, he fell and fainted for a while. I think this was because he did not want me to join the liberation struggle.

We arrived at Nampundwe; I didn’t quite remember the month. On arrival, I realised that a lot had changed. Stories of those that were coming from Zimbabwe, the Rhodesia, made me realise that this required a lot of commitment. I remember some would burst into tears when narrating how they were recruited and their journey with no one forcing me.

Upon arrival in Zambia, I was named Hazel. Names were changed to hide identity and protect the people that one left behind. As recruits we would eat together. We never undermined each other. We ate tinned food and other types of foods that were new to me like beans and fish that tasted very bitter. With time I got used to it.

We moved to Mwembeshi together with our male counterparts. If my memory serves me right, our male counterparts were around 2 000 and we were at least 100 and we were the last group to be trained at Mwembeshi.

People in Mwembeshi were disciplined. Men had their tents opposite women. This was done to minimise improper association of men and women in the camp.

We would wake up early in the morning for a run, military drills and other physical training. It was very difficult for one to do these if you were not used to it. Many would faint, including men. In some of the trainings one was supposed to carry a stick resembling a gun. You would be told to carry that stick where ever one could go. This was mainly done for us to get used to carrying a gun.

We were later issued with guns. At times, after the run we would do frog jumps depending on the day’s instructor. Among the male instructors there was Audrey, Bvudzai and Grace. We never trained separate groups. Men and women were trained as one. We did almost everything that was done by men. Female instructors became our role models and gave us the much-needed inspiration. Bvundzai was so tough, she would do a forward fall that would leave us in awe.

After the military drills, we would go for breakfast. Meal times were timed. When the whistle was blown, you would have to immediately join others for the next assignment, even if you had not yet been served or eaten your food. It was the same with bath times. You needed to be punctual and manage time wisely.

We would also do commissariat lessons that emphasised the history of the nation and objective of the liberation struggle. We were made to hate colonial system but not whites as people. We were taught to hate the system and co-exist with those that accommodate the black majority. It made us see the real objective of joining the struggle.

Among the female recruits that trained with me at Mwembeshi; was Zeigue, Ingrid, Samkeliso, Sylvia, Dorcas and Cecilia. I seem to be forgetting others. I remember Samkeliso who was once captured by whites in Botswana together with Black Swine. They were later released shortly before independence.

After completing the training at Mwembeshi, more selections were made and from our group, a number were chosen to do further training in military intelligence. We travelled from Lusaka to Luanda in Angola. Some were held up in Angola while they received treatments for various ailments. Those that remained in Angola flew to Cuba but the group I was in travelled by sea for a duration of twenty-one days. The group that travelled by air reached Cuba ahead of us.

We returned to Zambia soon after completing our six-month course. For some time, I was deployed at Zimbabwe House where I worked with the intelligence department.

As time progressed, I think after a month the department of intelligence opened an office under the University of Zambia in Lusaka that was called the Vatican.

However, Sibonginkosi Gumede, affectionately known as JB, and I stayed at a flat in Kwabata. JB was the younger sister of Ndumiso Gumede, a football technocrat, we worked under the direct supervision of Dumiso Dabengwa. We were ordered to stay in Kwabata as other cabins had highly classified information. It was an arrangement to decongest sensitive information from the Zimbabwe House. The arrangement was that every day Solly, the driver would come to the flat to collect us early in the morning and ferry us to the Vatican offices.

On one day Solly delayed coming to pick us up from our residence. We wondered what could have delayed him but we had no one to ask. Looking over the balcony, while waiting for Solly, I saw big helicopters coming from north-western side.

I quickly called out “JB, JB come see the army!” In Cuba we had been taught how to identify a helicopter that was armed for a mission regardless the direction it was facing. There’s a certain way in which it flies when on a mission. I could sense trouble that day.

JB came running and confirmed that which I was seeing. When Solly finally arrived, he explained to us that he had been sent on some errands by Dumiso Dabengwa. When we arrived at the camp, we found dead bodies of some officers that we worked with. It became clear to us that if we had been picked up on time by Solly we would have been part of those that were attacked and killed. No one at the office survived the attack.

The helicopters had simultaneously bombed Vatican, Freedom Camp, and Mkushi. The bombardment had started. At that time there were no cellphones for us to quickly convey a message about the attack. It was a well-orchestrated plan and I believe there were among us who were feeding them with information.

I’m told in Mkushi the targets were Jane Ndlovu and Audrey. They had been singled out and called by name. How did the enemy know their names? How do you explain a scenario of betrayal and information leaking? Anyway, this was the war, it happens. I also remember another attack when we had attended and Afro-Asian Peoples’ Solidarity Organisation (AAPSO) conference at Nakatinde Hall.

Joshua Nkomo was present and so was Lookout Masuku and his wife. Lookout was attacked but he survived. I was once seconded to join Samkeliso but later I had been chosen to be an instructor but later withdrawn in order to further my training. It was all about luck and God.

As we approached 1979 a lot of people were sent back home. A few came by plane, I think these are the ones that came with Joshua, and others by train and road. I came by road and I was deployed at vanguard House in Harare where I worked. I was in charge of seconding and later recruiting female combatants for police training.

They all came through me. I had to second a lot of them to the police training. There was a guy who was a sergeant major at depot and I was in constant communication with him after I had recommended the female combatants for police training. One day he said to me, “Ko iwe musikana how old are you?” I responded to him by telling him my age and he had to reply to me here and there and said, “Why do you send people for police training when you are seated there with the requisite qualifications of being a police officer?” That’s how I joined the police and later went for police training.

I thought of others more than myself. This is what war taught us! Shortly, before the training, I went for demobilisation at sierra assembly point near Gweru and later returned to Harare for training.
When I completed the training, I was deployed to west commonage at Mpopoma as they encouraged all former freedom fighters to work close to their relatives as they had spent more time in the bush.

At that point I was now a police officer. I stayed with my maternal relatives at Mpopoma. Remember, I told you my name was Hazel Ndlovu, I had to continue using Hazel as it had become so popular but I came Sibanda. I was later transferred to Njube Station, Mzilikazi Station, Victoria Falls Station, Lupane Station, and later posted in Hwange for 12 years.

I came back and worked at Bulawayo Central, Hillside Station and by then I was now promoted. My last station was Magwegwe Police Station where I was now the officer in charge and ultimately retired from there. I am a mother of four boys.