Once Upon a Family

Once Upon a Family, Part 3

My mother could have died before I was even born. The year my brother was born in August 1975, my father's employment contract was eventually terminated. With no funds to pay rentals and food, my mother left for his home village in Hwedza. 

She packed her few chattels and headed for his rural area. Although she was acquainted to most of the people, her major test was the war of liberation which posed danger to her and her young infant. When she arrived in 1976, my father's relatives gave her a warm welcome which was reserved for a new bride in the family. 

My father had remained in town in search of other alternatives. After the customary introductions, she settled with my father's aunt. The affable aged lady offered her exceptional welcome that she always told us about. Soon she assumed her duties. Like many in the village, her daily routine included fetching water from the well, cleaning and field chores. In the afternoon she cooked and fetched firewood to light a fire. 

During her spare time she chatted with my father's cousins and aunts who resided in the same area. Some of them would later come to live with us when we finally established a home back in the city. My father would never ignore the opportune occasion to visit her over weekends when resources permitted. 

During his trips he would bring all the provisions for her to last until his next break. Then he would get the opportunity to hunt before he returned with the early morning bus. During the ensuing years the war of liberation was amplifying but still my mother and brother stayed and endured.

Her first real encounter with the conflict was when she went with other village women to collect firewood in a nearby forest. As was the norm, she never let my brother out of sight because of the evident lurking threats. One day while they gathered dry branches and twigs, my brother played on the ground with other kids of his age. He was learning to utter his first elementary words.

Suddenly, she recalled my brother pointing to the sky and saying: "Mama, look there are the soldiers." By the time she noticed the helicopter, it was too late to flee. She just stood there gobsmacked by the rare sighting. 

Any manoeuvre would have been fatal for her and the kid. Her friends had disappeared into the thick bushes and ran back home without forewarning her. Her inexperience could have cost their lives. To her amazement, the soldiers just lowered their chopper and soared past without uttering a word.

"For a moment I froze as the fighter airliner hovered just above my head. I really thought it was going to be last day on earth."

She had come face to face with her demise. She thought that was the last she would see her son, dying far away from her father and family. No one would witness the tragic event. But to her incredulity they left her as soon as they were satisfied with what they saw. As soon as the fighters left, she picked up my brother and darted home without turning back. 

From that day she vowed she would never set foot in the bush anymore. When my father's aunt heard the reports, she fumed and banned her from the escapades fearing for her life. But despite the danger or laughter, life went on in the village.

She would stay in the perilous setting and vowed to wait for my father to return. She was determined to attest herself in the hostile environment. Years later she would recite the incident with such humour and vigour that we all laughed about those gloomy old days. Everyone who heard the encounter said my brother saved their lives. 

He even recalls the episode vividly. It later turned out that the soldiers were on a spying mission for villagers who helped freedom fighters with provisions like food and clothing. Mostly, the collaborators would conceal the necessities in bundles of wood and carry them ingenuously to the various bases. Due to my mother's young looks, the soldiers thought she was one of them although. However, she did not qualify to join the group because she was already married.

My father, eight years her senior worked as a casual at one of the giant food processors in the country. Ironically, she would live eight years more than him before she passed on. He was only called in during peak seasons, mostly after the crop harvest. During the off season he searched for part other jobs or went back to his village in Hwedza. 

He was a true village man who prided himself in his hereditary hunting prowess. During his youthful days, he never came back empty-handed when he went hunting. They said no prey would evade his two vicious dogs, duck his knobkerrie or get loose from his trap. Probably it explains how he won a young and beautiful woman's hand in marriage. 

Back in the city my father toiled with no break but still he could not secure a permanent job. His wish was to be one reunited with his young family. His visits remained perpetual despite the obvious obstructions he faced.

Hewould sometimes work as a volunteer nurse aid to eke out a living. In one ofhis early images he appeared in the organisation's internal publication whilston a first aid training programme. It was anything or nothing at all. He chosethe preceding.