Interview with Francis Chikukwa

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Interview with Francis Chikukwa

Author/Creator Munochiveyi, Munya Bryn (interviewer); Chikukwa, Francis(interviewee)

Date 2006-08-25

Resource type Interviews

Language English

Subject

Coverage (spatial) Zimbabwe

Coverage (temporal) 1960-1980

Rights By kind permission of Francis Chikukwa and Munyaradzi B.Munochiveyi.

Description Interview with Francis Chikukwa, Zimbabwean politicalactivist and political prisoner during Zimbabwe's liberationstruggle

http://www.aluka.org/action/showMetadata?doi=10.5555/AL.SFF.DOCUMENT.munoch0001

http://www.aluka.org

Oral Histories of Imprisonment, Detention and Confinement during Zimbabwe’sLiberation Struggle, 1960-1980

Mr. Francis Chikukwa, Interviewed & Translated by Munya Munoc hiveyi,Mufakose Township, Harare, Zimbabwe

Munya Munochiveyi (MM): Okay, I am talking tobaba (Mr.) Francis Chikukwa. My

first question to youbaba, is before you were arrested by the Rhodesian regime for

political reasons, where were you living and what was your job? Howwould you

describe your social life before imprisonment: were you married, with children?

Fracis Chikukwa (FC): Before I was arrested, I was living here in Harare, in the African

township of Mufakose. I was staying with my grandmother. Just before I was arrested in

1966, I had not really married: my girlfriend had just eloped because she was pregnant

with my first child, who is now living in London.

MM: So as a young man like that, what were your political ideas about Rhodesia before

you were arrested? Were you involved in any political activities? Did you join the

liberation struggle; if so, in what capacity – i.e. were you a guerrilla?

FC: As a young man living in the then Salisbury I was very incensed by the way we were

treated bymabhunu (the white authorities). For example,mabhunu forbade us from

walking in the city center’s pavements – you were supposed to walk in far-off roads away

from theirmadams (white women). If ever you were to brush shoulders with amadam or

if she just screamed, you got twenty days in jail!Mabhunu did not allow us to simply

walk in Salisbury’s First Street. In addition, living in the urban areasof Rhodesia was

hell because the white authorities required us to have what they called “Passes”, or else

we were arrested for “trespassing”. If you did not have a parentwith legal papers to stay

in this town, you were arrested, and my friends and I were arrestedalmost on a daily

basis here in Mufakose. If anything, that really hurt me: I used to wonder, how could I be

treated like this in my own country of birth? What fueled my rage also is what was

happening in other African countries. I was excited with the namesand deeds of people

like Jomo Kenyatta, the exploits of the Mau Mau guerrillas, and others. I realized at that

time that it was also possible for us fightmabhunu and defeat them. If others were doing

it, so could we. I began to be politically restive and joined any African grouping that

challenged the Rhodesian regime.

MM: So, when you got involved in political activism at that time, which political

organizations or parties did you join?

FC: In 1959, I joined the National Democratic Party (NDP) as an ordinarymember – I

was young, politically restive, and associated with friends who loved African politics. So

my involvement with the NDP can partly be explained by this overwhelming feeling of

being in solidarity with what my friends were doing – a kind of “mob-psychology” thing.

What I did not realize at the time was that I was actually involving myself in something

that would define my life. Between the years 1959 and 1961, the NDP was banned and

un-banned, until our political leaders formed other parties such as the Zimbabwe African

Patriotic Union (ZAPU), which my friends and I joined again. When onepolitical party

was banned, we simply joined a new one that succeeded the banned one. When ZAPU

was banned, we were involved in the formation and proliferation of the People’s

Caretaker Council (PCC). I was arrested whilst I was involved in this political grouping.

MM: So you never joined the liberation struggle as a guerrilla?

FC: No, I did not go to the bush to fight as a guerrilla soldier, but highlytrained

guerrillas came to our African townships, recruited and trained us as armed saboteurs.

They taught us how to handle weapons and detonators in secrecy and at locations that

were in the outskirts of the city of Salisbury such as the hills of Kambuzuma Township.

Soon after our training, we used explosives to bomb strategic buildings in the city of

Salisbury. At one time, my group and I were involved in the bombing of ahouse

belonging to Rhodesia’s Minister of Law and Order, Mr. Lardner-Burke. Almost

everyday after coming home from work, my friends and I teamed upto strategize and

attack buildings in the cover of the night. We also started attacking nearby farms, located

in the outskirts of Salisbury. We would enter white-owned tobacco farms and destroy the

crops, or just burn whatever we found on other white-owned farms. We went as far as

Chiweshe, looking for farms to destroy. Later on we became full-time saboteurs,

attacking farms as far as the Mutare and Rusape areas, which had many farms.

MM: Okay, so tell me in great detail the circumstances surrounding yourarrest or

detention? Which law did you break and who arrested you (Rhodesian police or

soldiers)?

FC: I was arrested on 23 July 1966. I was arrested in the midst of widespread unrest in

the African townships of Harare, during a time when many people were demonstrating

against the Rhodesian regime’s repressive policies and the arrest of our political leaders.

The townships across the country were politically restive at that time and the Rhodesian

authorities now knew that liberation war guerrillas were training young men in most of

these townships to use explosives such as hand-grenades. The regime’s security forces

also had information that a number of guerrillas were also infiltrating these townships to

foment sabotage activities against the Rhodesian state. As young activists, we were now

capable of even making our own bombs, especially petrol bombs. The guerrillas also

supplied us with bombs from the Soviet Union.

MM: So what exactly were you charged with when you were arrested, andwho arrested

you?

FC: My so-called crimes, and those of my colleagues, were numerous. The Rhodesian

police arrested me after a number of my friends had already been captured. I am very

sure that the police arrested me after some of my friends sold me out tothe police. You

see, prior to our arrest we used to organize ourselves into groups often people, who

would then execute various sabotage activities. I was the commander of one of those

small groups, and I had about three names that I used to disguise my true identity in case

of a police investigation. We had been taught to assume multiple identities by the

guerrillas so that if ever we were confronted by the Rhodesian security forces with

particular names, we would vehemently deny those identities. When the Rhodesian police

arrested me, some Rhodesian security men had come to my workplace inquiring about

my whereabouts. Among those police officers were some Africanpolice officers that I

already knew by name such as Sgt Mbanga, and another man that I knew as Sam. These

African police officers knew that I was involved in sabotage activities but they did not

know my true name. They had been told by some of my arrested comrades that my name

was “Mau Mau” and they had also been directed to my workplace.That very day that the

police came, I was already making plans to skip the country to Zambia tojoin other

liberation war fighters together with some of my friends. On that day agroup of five

Rhodesian soldiers, five members of the Criminal Investigations Department (CID), and

four mabhunu descended on my workplace with information that I was a trained guerrilla.

I immediately knew that a colleague who was in my group of ten saboteurs, Prayer

Mpakami, who had been arrested by the Rhodesian police, had spilledthe beans. These

Rhodesian security men confronted me with my real name and I knewthat there was no

way they could have known me except through my arrested colleague.These men, armed

to the teeth, took me away from my workplace in a police jeep vehicle. They took me to

Salisbury’s Main Police Station and began taunting me, repeatedly saying: “So you

thought you were clever! We have been informed of everything that you did.” The first to

interrogate me were black police officers, and it seemed as if thatwas the standard

procedure. White interrogators came to me later. These black police officers were under

instructions to extract confessions through beating us severely. They told me that they

had arrested me under the Law and Order (Maintenance) Act, and demanded to know my

role in the sabotage activities in Salisbury. I flatly denied everythingand any accusation

that they laid before me. Immediately I was hit with a rifle butt on my mouth and one of

my teeth (he shows me the tooth) got broken. They continued to lay accusations onto me,

claiming that I was part of a group that had recently went to Minister Dupont’s house to

plant a bomb. I vehemently denied the accusations, following exactly what our leaders

had taught us on how to behave when you are under interrogation. I knew that if I had

said anything about ever handling bombs, the police would have automatically branded

me a “terrorist”. So I stuck too my denial stance. They removed me from the

interrogation cells, directed me to an underground cell, and locked me up. The following

day they took me to a secluded part of Salisbury’s Hunyani Dam. I had iron-cuffs on both

my hands and feet. When we got to some site near the dam, the police directed me to dig

a shallow grave and they shoved me into this pit and buried me alive. During this ordeal,

I was with another political activist called Lovemore, who had beenarrested in the

African township of Mbare, and six other prisoners. The police officers told me that they

wanted to bury me alive and that I was going to die a slow and painful death. The soil

near this dam is sandy and it was hot on the skin. After some time, my interrogators dug

me out of the grave and demanded to know where we kept our weapons. I knew that we

had concealed some of our weapons at a hill in the African township ofKambuzuma, but

I vehemently denied any knowledge of weapons. One police officer fired a shot in the air,

trying to strike me with fear. They buried me again into that grave and only left my head

out. They tied my head to a rope that was connected to a helicopter,threatened to lift me

up, and kill me through hanging. The interrogators again demandedanswers from me, but

I kept quite. One of them then used the butt of a riffle to assault me on my face. I

resolved at that moment that if I were going to die, I would die without divulging any

information that could lead to the deaths of some of my comrades. I continued to deny

everything, until they tied sandbags to my feet and took me to the middle of Hunyani

Dam. My hands were still cuffed when they started sinking me violently into the dam.

My head was still tied to the helicopter, which was motioning up-and-down, periodically

dunking me into the water and lifting me up from the dam. My rural-based experiences of

swimming underwater helped me to control my breath so as to avoid drowning. After this

episode of torture, they started interrogating me again, now accusingme of involvement

in the burning of a bus in the city of Salisbury. I thought to myself that after having

escaped being accused of the more serious offence of handling weapons, I would rather

agree to this lesser charge of torching a bus. So I agreed and told them that yes, I was

involved in the burning of the bus. They continued laying more accusations, including the

burning of an out-of-town farm that was owned by a white man called Baxter. I was

involved in this incident, and because of our activities, this white farmer actually ran

away from the farm. We burnt his home to ashes using an assortment of bombs. But I

flatly refused any involvement and claimed that I did not know of any Baxter or a farm

that was attacked. I stuck to the lesser charges of burning a bus. Over the next five days,

they continued assaulting me, laying all sorts of charges against me. For instance, they

told me of a service station (gas station) that was bombed, but I continued to refuse any

charges associated with bombs. I was then sent to the Remand Section of Salisbury

Prison awaiting trial, with seventeen counts of bombings that I had denied. I had only

agreed to the burning of the bus. During their investigations, they took our finger prints

trying to match them with those found at the bombing scenes but they foundnothing

because our trainers taught us to use gloves during our operations.Even on the charge of

bombing the bus that I had agreed to, they never found any evidence directly connected

with me. Indeed, I was involved in that incident. We had approachedone of those

government-owned buses in town called “United Buses” and forced the driver to

disembark. We torched the bus using petrol bombs, and the fire reduced it to ashes. So

when the prosecutors took us to the Salisbury’s Magistrates’ Courts, the prosecutors laid

the accusations of bombing infrastructure on us. As a group, we all entered a not-guilty

plea. During our trial, we finally got a lawyer who was sent by ZAPU to represent us. We

stayed in the Remand Prison for a while during the trial, and we managed to inform our

ZAPU colleagues who visited us during that time to encourage those who had not been

arrested to skip the country and go to guerrilla bases outside Rhodesia. We also told them

to recruit other people before they went outside the country to continue the struggle in the

urban areas. Furthermore, we managed to endear ourselves closer to some jail guards

whom we dealt with. We stayed in remand prison until our trial resumedbetween July

and August 1967. It was a grueling trial, but I stuck to my story thatI was never involved

in any bombings. Some of my colleagues made mistakes and began accusing each other

during trial. The prosecutors also managed to strike a deal with one of our arrested

leaders who agreed to divulge everything in exchange for his immunity from prosecution.

But still some of us continued to refuse any of the prosecution’s allegations. During trial,

we would tip each other to mislead the prosecutors and feign ignorance. At one time, the

prosecutors asked me if I could identify a gun that they produced in court, as evidence

that I had knowledge of weapons. I feigned ignorance and told the Magistrate that I did

not know this strange looking piece of metal and wood. The prosecutor charged at me,

saying “Are you sure you do not know that this is a gun?” I told the magistrate that this

was my first time looking at a gun. We did these kinds of things so as to influence the

outcome of the trial. I only agreed to the charge of torching a bus, and that was it.

MM: So after that long trial, what was your sentence?

FC: I was condemned to death.

MM: Wow. What was your immediate reaction to that sentence?

FC: My son, if it was today maybe I would be shaken. But during those days, we had

strong wills. We were not shaken at all. In fact, we were happy and jubilant and as a

group, we actually started taunting the magistrate, shouting all sorts of insults at him. We

told him off – “You dog! Fuck off! Bloody bastard! Do you think we are afraid of dying?

If we die, we don’t care because we will die for our country! This isour Zimbabwe! We

will die!” Those were the kinds of statements we made. We were a groupof six people

(some of the names are inaudible) who got the death sentence. I was under-age then –

only 20 - but I had a big body. They thought I was the oldest among the group and so I

was one of the people who were going to be hanged. A friend of mine who was actually

the oldest but with a small body got off the death sentence because they thought he was

under-age. We were then sent to Salisbury Prison to await hanging, and I think we stayed

there for about three months. They did not tell us when we were goingto be hanged.

They just told us that anytime could be our fateful day.

MM: So everyday you lived under the assumption that “it could be today” that I will be

hanged?

FC: Yes, we always expected to be hanged. But we remained jovial. We would sing

uplifting songs everyday. We would also sing death/mourning songs telling our

colleagues that we are going now, and that we will meet in the after-life world. We were

that prepared to die.

MM: Were you in group cells or solitary confinement?

FC: We were in solitary confinement but we would talk to each other through the walls.

If you were condemned you were supposed to stay alone. They calledthe cells “D-

Class”. We would shout to each other stuff like “Good morning friend. How was your

night?” After some time in that prison, we heard that our case had been referred to the

Rhodesian Supreme Court because our lawyers had lodged an appeal. But we also heard

that after the appeal hearings the Supreme Court had upheld the death sentences. We also

learnt later that the Queen of England had petitioned the Rhodesian authorities to

commute our death sentences to life-imprisonment. I think that is why wefinally got life-

imprisonment sentences.

MM: So for how long did you stay in Salisbury Prison?

FC: It was not for long. We just stayed there for a few months, before we were taken to

Khami Prison in Bulawayo. On the day that we went to Khami, six Rhodesian army

planes air-lifted us to Khami Prison. I think we were in our hundreds inthat single

operation. We arrived at Khami in prison garbs that were marked “Life”, meaning that we

were prisoners serving life sentences. We were immediately taken to special cells, in

which we would stay locked up for a very long time. We were not supposed to perform

any hard labor outside the prison cells. We were just supposed to stay locked up.

MM: So tell me, when you got to Khami, how did you feel? On that day that youarrived,

did you find any other political prisoners there?

FC: Yes, there were other comrades, such as Emmerson Mnangagwa (prominent ZANU

army strategist), and others. They greeted and welcomed us and toldus that that this will

be our home. They gave us the courage to survive, telling us on that day that: “This is our

country, we will not go anywhere!” That made us strong, althoughwe were already

strong in our hearts. Our group was determined to serve whatever sentence for our

political convictions and we were not afraid to say it in front of our captors. Our captors

called our group “very dangerous”. In fact, we learned that evenbefore we got to Khami,

the jail guards had been fore-warned that we were a dangerous gang, and that we were

even capable of escaping Khami’s high security walls. That was indeed our plan: we

planned to escape from Khami prison. The following day after our arrival at Khami we

met the prison’s Superintendent and our handlers told him that wewere “the most

dangerous people” he had been warned about. The Superintendent addressed us and said

“So its youmagandanga (“terrorists)?” We looked at him and said unanimously “Yes, its

us so-called terrorists! We are not terrorists, we are freedom fighters.” The

Superintendent angrily retorted, asking us that: “What is a freedom fighter? What is the

definition of a freedom fighter?” We also retorted back and told him that just as he was

sent here to keep us in jail, we were also sent by our people to be freedom fighters, to

fight for the liberation of our country! In a fit of rage, the Superintendent directed that we

must be locked up in our cells for two days without seeing the light of day. We never

cared – in fact, in the evening the whole jail broke into song and fanfare.We sung

liberation struggle songs. We coordinated our efforts across the three floors of the prison

to the extent that the whole prison was filled with the melody of these songs. Deep into

the night, the jail guards came and pleaded with us to go to sleep. We never thought of

ourselves solely as being in jail – we told ourselves that we were in Zimbabwe!

MM: Wow! And these guards, were they black or white? What sort of relationship did

you have with them?

FC: Most of them were black guards and we befriended most of them. Of course, there

were others who did not want to consort with us, who adopted the samedemeanor as

mabhunu.

MM: Okay, now can you tell me how you spent a typical day in prison, from morning

till evening.

FC: Well, there was no ‘typical day’. Mostly we woke up in the morning, bathed our

faces, and went to empty our sanitary buckets. My colleagues and Ispent the rest of our

jail time staying in single-person cells. We had planned to dig a tunnelleading out of the

prison and for months, we worked on this tunnel. However, jail officials discovered this

tunnel, apparently following a tip-off. After this discovery, we werelocked up in our

cells for six months without seeing the light of day. Believe it or not, our skin turned pale.

We never saw the light of day during that time, nor did we know whatwas out there. It

was total confinement with no radio or anything. We know that some of our colleagues

during this time were taken to be executed. If you were stubborn, you were executed.

Mabhunu used to come in the dead of the night, around 1 am or 3 am with black-painted

faces, snatching people in silence. We know this because some friendly prison guards

warned us that if ever these killers were to wake us up, we must makenoise and wake

others up. The guards promised to open the doors so that we could allwitness these

killers’ murderous ploy.

MB: So did your prison conditions change in any way throughout your term in Khami?

FC: Well, in the mid-1970s, during those aborted Settlement Talks meant to end the war,

our conditions of incarceration were relaxed. During that time, wespent most of the time

outside our cells, performing hard labor. Prison officials ordered us to crash stones in

quarry pits. We were organized into gangs and we would go into these pits with jail-

guards standing above ordering us to work. Other prison officials objected to the idea of

us spending time outside because they warned that we might find that opportunity to

escape the prison. Apparently, a misdirected letter had been confiscated, which had a

ZANU plan for guerrillas to attack the prison, supply us with weapons, and execute a

prison break.

MM: And perhaps to elaborate on your relationships with prison guards, how did you

relate to white prison officials?

FC: They were all racists. Most of them were violent and murderous.They could beat

inmates to death. Torture in prison was ubiquitous and widespread. I was once thrown

into what was called a “Dark Cell” and this was horrible torture. In there, I would get a

small piece ofsadza (thickened maize meal porridge) and about six or eight cooked bean-

seeds for fourteen days. You had no blanket and you slept on the floor.

MM: Why would you be thrown into this “Dark Cell”?

FC: Well, if the prison officers judged that you had provoked them, or that you were

recalcitrant, or if you stubbornly talk about political issues, you were thrown into the

“Dark Cell”. The guards would send you to a jail-court and this punishment was handed

down frequently on political prisoners.

MM: What were other methods of torture in Khami?

FC: Well, sometimes the guards would just lock us up in our cells during thetime that

we were supposed to be out of our cells. Or they could just withhold food from us for

days on end. There reached a point where we actually wrote a complaint letter to Geneva

(perhaps to the UN?) which we smuggled out of the prison through prison guards. We

detailed all the abuses that we experienced in Khami prison in this letter, such as being

tortured or being starved by prison officials. We later learnt that some print-media outlets

had actually gotten hold of this letter and printed it. We knew that this severely damaged

the reputation of the Rhodesian authorities. In fact, we heard that afact-finding mission

was to be sent to investigate our allegations. All of a sudden, some of our conditions of

incarceration began to be relaxed, such as being allowed to go out to perform labor tasks.

When the envoys finally arrived at Khami, we demanded to talk to them in the absence of

prison officials. Prison officials agreed to this and we told these envoys every detail about

our horrendous conditions in Khami prison.

MM: So, did anything change after this visit by this investigative envoy?

FC: Well, the food aspect changed as we were now being served breakfast with tea and

porridge – which was an addition to our menu. At other times, we were also now getting

meat and beans. Before that, we just got measly meals that were not nutritious at all.

MM: So, weren’t any inmates’ illnesses associated with this poor diet?

FC: Some of our friends actually died. We survived out of pure luck.

MM: And would the sick be taken for treatment to hospitals?

FC: Only when you fell seriously ill. It became common knowledge thatif you were

taken to the hospital, you were going to die because only those closer todying were taken

to hospitals. If you complained of any ailment but looked healthy, noone took you

seriously. You were just given the same brand of pills that we used to call “Quinines”. It

did not matter what your illness was, you just got “Quinines”. When I think of it, I am

convinced that our bodies got damaged in Khami. In fact, I came outof that prison with

an eye-sight problem. During most years, our prison cells had continuous lighting

throughout the year, with lights that were never switched off. NowI don’t have any

night-vision. I need spectacles but they are expensive.

MM: So how did you sleep?

FC: It was difficult son. We just slept on the floor, without any bedding except for four

blankets.

MM: So how many years did you effectively serve in prison? Did you everreconsider

your political convictions due to incarceration?

FC: It was an effective life sentence for me and therefore I only got out after the post-

1980 Amnesty. I never wavered with respect to my political convictions. In fact,

spending all that time in prison pained me to the extent that my opposition to the

Rhodesian regime strengthened. At times, I would feel that if ever Iwas to be released

from prison, I would take up arms and go straight to Salisbury’s First Street and shoot

everymubhunu in sight! If that plan by the guerrillas to help us escape the prison had

worked, we had planned a revenge-assault on the Rhodesians. Even at 1980, Rhodesians

really have to thank (Zimbabwe’s President) Mugabe for his reconciliation policy. We

planned to wipe the whole town ofmabhunu!

MM: Okay, so, if you had any spare time in this prison, what did you do with it?

FC: We were given books, out-dated and censored newspapers to read. But sometimes

African guards would supply us with few copies of up-to-date newspapers. One reader

would climb on top of a wall and scream “News, News!” We would then pay attention

and listen to him reading the news. But that only happened when there was a nice guard

who liked us. We were especially interested in current affairs about the war and that is

how we knew of how manymabhunu were being killed by guerrillas during the liberation

war. These newspapers were not censored because they would not have passed through

the censorship department of the prison. These newspapers would have been bought

outside the prison by our friendly guards.

MM: So did you get any kind of education whilst you were in prison?

FC: Just a little bit. The people who benefited were the ones who came tothe prison

earlier. For those of us who came later, our education efforts were abruptly cut short by

the Law and Order Minister, Lardner-Burke, who argued that the statehad no money to

educate “terrorists”. What riled the prison officials is that most political prisoners, who

got education in prison in the early years of political imprisonment, passed their courses

and even got degrees whilst they were in prison.

MM: Were you entitled to visitors in this prison?

FC: Yes, and in fact, some of our comrades in the liberation struggle visited us. We gave

them vital information about our conditions of incarceration to pass onto out-of-the-

country organizations that were in solidarity with us. Prison officialsnever detected this

and they were often puzzled as to how people outside the prison knew about the specific

details of what was happening in this prison. We would also give guardsletters to pass

onto some of our fellow comrades when they visited us. My family members visited me

almost once every month.

MM: What about your wife and child – did they visit you too?

FC: My wife had already gone back to her rural home soon after she heard that I had

been condemned to death. Some Rhodesian officials had also gone to tell my mother and

father that I had been condemned to death and that I would be executed on some specific

date that they told them. I remember my mother came to our holding cells crying bitterly.

I told her to accept my fate, but also assured her that I was not going to die.

MM: So what would you say was the impact of imprisonment to your life?

FC: My son, imprisonment damaged my whole life, my career and my social life. I wrote

to Christian Care to extend their financial help to my family and my wifeand daughter

did get something from this organization. They got a small monthly income, food, and

clothes from Christian Care.

MM: So upon your release from prison in 1980, how did you pick up the loose ends of

your life?

FC: It was difficult. I had no job. I was lucky to be one of the few who gotthat

demobilization fund from the new African government. But we onlygot that money for

six months. Because my life had really been destroyed by years of incarceration, I

thought that the government should have given us more money to shape up our

livelihoods. Government officials told us that as a new government,the state had many

burdens and obligations such that it was difficult for everyone toget help. These things

are difficult my son.

MM: So did you get employed thereafter?

FC: Yes, I got my first post-independence job in 1982. Before that, it was difficult to

secure employment for people like us without any education. So fora while, I returned to

my rural home – I did that also because I needed to rest after years of imprisonment and

also because I had to propitiate my ancestors for keeping me safe allthese years.

MM: So over the years, did the government institute any rehabilitation programs for ex-

political prisoners?

FC: Not at all. In fact, I went for a vocational course to learn how to weldmetals. But

this course further damaged my eyes because we had to use welding machines.

MM: Okay. But what were your long-term aspirations in the new Zimbabweas an ex-

political prisoner? Do you think the new regime acknowledged your contributions to the

liberation struggle?

FC: My biggest aspiration was to be afforded an opportunity to build my life once again,

as a person whose life was in tatters. I really wished that the government had comforted

us as a people who had gone through untold suffering in Rhodesian jails. We know

government issues are very problematic. We know for sure as ex-political prisoners that

there were others in government who did not like us. There were people in government

who never knew what happened to us during the struggle but who were now throwing

spanners into our efforts to get some form of compensation from the new government.

We considered most of these politicians “opportunists” and “fence-sitters”, who were just

waiting in the wings to go along with any government that would have won the war.

These people are so many in our current government, and we know those who dislike

people like us who contributed to the struggle for freedom. It pained us as ex-political

prisoners to see ex-guerrillas getting compensation in 1997, and yet we are the pillars of

the liberation struggle. We are the ones who recruited most of thoseguerrillas who fought

the war. They came through our hands. If I were not arrested, I would also have crossed

the country to become a guerrilla. In fact, up to today I consider myself a freedom fighter.

But as you know my son, it happens that people look down upon each other and

marginalize others. That happens.

MM: So after being recognized recently by the government as people whocontributed to

the struggle through monetary compensation, has anything changed in your life?

FC: Materially nothing has changed because the money is paltry. I am just heartened by

the fact that at least there are people who recognize us as people who contributed to the

struggle. In these difficult times, I am grateful that one of the packages of our

compensation includes the free education of our children at school. I actually came from

our offices in Harare yesterday where I collected government forms that allow my

children to go to school for free. However, on the on-going land reform program I wish I

could also have an A-1 farm (commercial farm) so that I can establish my own

homestead. Unlike war veterans, the state has not offered us thesefarms.

MM: I think I have exhausted my questions. But lastly, do you feel like youare a hero of

the liberation struggle?

FC: I know that as a fact because not many people can go through whatI went through

without committing suicide.

MM: Thank you very muchbaba for this lesson. I have learnt a great deal from this

conversation.