Chronicle Editor
Engineer Philani Mpofu
WE celebrate the life of a selfless man who devoted his lifetime to educate his people.
Mr Remigius Misheck Ngwenya, (RM, Mamba or the Headmaster as he was fondly known) went to sleep on 15 March 2023, but his legacy lives on through the countless souls he touched as an educationist par-excellence.
We first met on 12 January 1988, at Regina Mundi Secondary School in Lupane, where he was the feared headmaster popularly known as uMamba, (the black Mamba) referring to his fearsome stature and elevated position of respect.
He was born at Empandeni in Mangwe District, Matabeleland South Province on 16 January 1954. He did his early schooling in the 1960s and 70s in Brunapeg and at Empandeni Mission.
From there, he went on to do teacher training at United Teachers College in Bulawayo. After his teacher training, he skipped the border to join the armed struggle, which saw him being sent to India to further his studies.
On his return from the war, he taught at a number of schools, but his remarkable life and impact was felt at Regina Mundi Secondary School, where he was the headmaster for many years in the 1980s.
When I was going for my Form 1 in 1988, my family was going through a rough financial patch. We could not afford secondary school fees for the nearby Tsholotsho High School, let alone an esteemed boarding school like Regina Mundi. However, my childhood dream was to go to a boarding school. When the time came for schools to open, I asked my granny that I go to Regina Mundi, she looked at me with a sad but telling eye.
I persisted until the poor old lady was weary of my naggings and she organised the few neat clothes I had and put the best family blankets into the best family suitcase we had and said to me tearing, “Hamba uyedelisa umoya wakho (Go and try your luck).”
Although deep down she knew I was wasting time, and on a mission impossible, my granny still sold her last goat and the money could only enable me to board Hwange Bus Services to and from Sipepa Business Centre, which is located 12km from Regina Mundi.
With my childish mind, tones of faith, excitement and a desire to go to boarding school, I took off without any school fees or acceptance letter/promise at hand.
On dropping off at Sipepa Business Centre, I looked for my relatives who lived close by to help me get to school. They were kind enough to help me complete my journey on their scotch cart, (a decision I would later regret, because other kids would not stop laughing at me about arriving at school ngenqola).
On arrival at school, I was asked to produce the fees/part fees or proof of payment from the Post Office and acceptance letter. I had none of these.
It was at this point that I started realising my foolishness. The bursar asked for my name and where I came from; my world started crumbling around me at that point.
The only thing I could say was that I came from Tsholotsho. I was truly nameless at this point and honestly desired invisibility. The next moment I was all tears and wishing the infamous scotch cart takes me back, but they were long gone. When it was clear to the bursar that I could not talk and had no fees, he took me to the headmaster’s office so that he could explain the obvious to me and send me away.
As I entered the headmaster’s magnificent office, the man on the other side of the desk asked me the same questions the bursar had asked me earlier; at this point I was crying uncontrollably. I could not even speak. I tried to, but nothing was coming out, only tears could speak for me.
At last I managed to say something and that something was a lie, “My grandmother sent me here”. The fact was, she did not do that. My dream of being in a boarding school had sent me there. After uttering those few words which left Mr Ngwenya bemused, I stormed out of his office running in the direction of the road I had used to get to the school.
Ordinarily, I would never have stormed out of a kindergarten headmistress’ office, let alone a secondary school headmaster’s office, but as my world gave up the ghost around me, the only reflex my body could master was to run, as far away and as fast as I could.
However, my energy was truncated by sadness and a desire to completely vanish, so it ended in a nearby large tree’s foot, where I cried my lungs out.
RM followed me to my temporary place of refuge. I heard him say: “Mr Tsholotsho, get up and come here, please go and join the 2A2s, their class is over there”.
At that point I just burst into a typhoon of tears and hurricane of open crying, which were calmly interrupted by the touch of a gentle hand, leading me somewhere blindfolded by my tears.
I would from time to time bump onto him (ngimthuze) because I could hardly see anything, I was crying uncontainably; he would gently hold me and straighten my path.
As I was about to enter class, I looked up and said to Mr Ngwenya, “I will go back home tomorrow morning Sir, I am so sorry!” In a placid and reassuring voice, he said, “You are going nowhere Mr Tsholotsho”.
After I was settled in my new class, RM came back again to check whether everything was okay.
I pretended I was alright and ready to start my new life in the big school, but I was not. I had not paid fees and I had no school uniforms. Every day was civics day for me that term!
The day ended with me on a bunk-bed, however, I could not sleep, thinking about how I could vanish without anyone seeing me and being in more trouble than I was.
The seemingly impenetrable jail-like kind of fence, loss of the sense of direction at that point and the thought of meeting that bully boarding master outside kept me pinned to my bed. The whole week I walked around with my face down thinking everyone was laughing at me for not having paid any fees or part fees.
Six weeks down the line, all those who had not fully paid their fees were sent home. I thought that this was my opportunity to go back home and never come back. Alas, my name was not on the list.
I later learnt that Sister Otrude and Mr Ngwenya had sorted my fees! From that time on, Mr Ngwenya and Sister Otrude took me under their wing and they became my parents. What a generous man Mr Ngwenya was. What bit can I tell you about Sister Otrude? Oh no! She would “steal” her food from the monastery and smuggle it to me. She taught me to love porridge rice, her favourite way of eating rice.
She would let me sit on her lap while explaining something to me in class. At one point her dog became jealous of our relationship and bit me. During some school holidays, I would remain at school to help her sell old clothes to the nearby community members. This beautiful relationship I had with Sister Otrude was made possible by the generosity of Mr Ngwenya.
I was an okay student at primary school, but faced with Mr Ngwenya’s generosity. I excelled in secondary school as a way of paying him back. I left Regina Mundi with eight straight distinctions in my Cambridge University GCSEs/O-levels. I recorded the school’s first A in English Literature, post-independence, and the first Form 4 student at the school to sit for part of A-levels and pass with flying colours.
All these school history making achievements were made possible by one decision. A humanitarian decision that was by RM not to do the “right thing”, by sending me back home right away. He decided to honour a 13-year-old boy’s dream to pursue a better life for himself and his community.
He always wanted to be a civil engineer, but ended up a teacher; I completed his dream and become a civil engineer. What a lovely career he left me with! All beautiful relationships always have their ups and downs. I got very angry at RM when he blocked other teachers from making me school head boy when I was in Form 4, something I was looking forward to.
He had to sit me down and explain himself, something he didn’t like doing at all. The irony of life is that three years back, I was not even supposed to have been admitted to school, but here I was being angry at not being made its headboy. Here again we find the humility of RM in full display in calling me to his office to explain to me why he did not think it was a good idea for me to be head boy.
Another big thing I would like to thank RM for was that he afforded me the opportunity to have four warm meals a day when I was doing my secondary school.
I would complain with the rest of the other pupils about beans, porridge, cabbage et cetera, but deep down in my heart I was ever so grateful for those meals, and thanking the Lord in my humble evening prayers for them, because at primary school, I would have been faced with a cold lunch after a 10km return trip from school.
Those of us who come from Matabeleland would relate with the dreaded idea of eating cold brick hard isithwala senyawuthi, amabele et cetera with cold tomato and oil free dried vegetables, imibhida yemfushwa.
If I had been a day scholar in my rural setting, I also would not have had those four warm meals a day. Cold lunches and long school journeys would have been my daily portion. I also thank him for the good friends and relations I got from Regina Mundi. I learnt a lot which shaped my world view. ENgwenya, Siyabonga!
I am not the only pupil to be inspired by Mr Ngwenya, but countless others, who have countless stories to tell about this Superman. May he rest peacefully!
Through the efforts of RM, I hold a BSc in Civil Engineering (UZ) and a Masters in Major Programme Management (Oxford University, UK) among other qualifications.
Presently, I own Stelix Civils (Private) Limited, a construction company, Marvel Clayworks (Private) Limited a clay brick factory located on the outskirts of Bulawayo and Nanta Safaris (Private) Limited, the developers of Victoria Falls Grand Prix Circuit. I also hold a number of mining concerns with interests in Tin/Tantalite, Copper, Lithium and Limestone.
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