The Sunday News
Munyaradzi Musiiwa
Mira, mira (wait, wait a bit!) This was the late Lovemore Zigara’s trademark phrase whenever an argument broke out between us.
We were friends, the best of friends, but always found ourselves entangled in endless arguments. At one point we even exchanged blows at the workplace in one of our many “verbal fights”. In fact, the fight was one way as I was on the receiving end.
That is how bad his temper could be especially when he had one too many. Somehow, we were both lucky not to lose our jobs as we escaped with just a reprimand from our seniors. In spite of all the quarrels we remained friends, close friends.
The love and understanding we had for each other eclipsed our differences. Ziggy, as Zigara was affectionately known in journalism circles, had that ability to put friendship first ahead of everything. Everything, but not his wife and children of course. He was like a brother to me. This is why Saturday 16 June 2018 will remain one of my darkest days on earth.
On that day at around 5.45 AM, I received a call from Ziggy, asking for fuel coupons. “Munya Musiiwa I need a favour, can I have a fuel coupon? I will give you back on Monday. I have a journey,” he said. For some reason I told him I had used them yet I had not. Sadly this was the last favour he was to ask from me. That was the last time I was to hear his voice.
Later in the day, guilt got the better of me and I decided to call him in the afternoon but his phone was off. A few minutes later I received a call from one of our acquaintances telling me that Zigara had been involved in an accident just outside Kwekwe and his condition was bad. I rushed to the office to collect my phone so I could go to Kwekwe and check on him.
I then called on his NetOne line and got the shock of my life. “Do you know Lovemore Zigara? He died in an accident. I was the first to be on the scene and I rushed him to Kwekwe District Hospital. Sadly he was pronounced dead on arrival,” said the man, only identified as Munya, who answered Ziggy’s phone. How ironic, it had to be a Munya to try and save my friend’s life.
How I wish I could just rewind time and make those last moments count and correct everything with you Zigara. How I wish I could say “Mira, mira” to you as well.
You did not deserve to die violently like that Lovemore. I did not expect you to go this way. I feel it’s too soon. As I write this piece, I can hear the lyrics of the song by Oliver Mtukudzi “Hapana nguva yatinofunga kuti tinayo” playing at the back of my mind persistently like a buzzing mosquito. Surely there is no much time to fulfil every dream that we have, to do everything that our hearts desire.
Zigara’s dream was to study Economics to become an accomplished business journalist. He believed 2018 was his year of success. He always told me that this year he had so many things to accomplish that would change his life for the better.
Unfortunately this did not come to pass. I first met Lovemore Zigara in 2010 when I was an intern at Chronicle Gweru Office while studying a Bachelor of Science Honours Degree in Media and Society Studies at Midlands State University (MSU).
I had not attended to the then Minister of Water and Climate Change Samuel Sipepa-Nkomo who was touring Gweru City Council’s water treatment plant. My then supervisors Kamangeni Phiri and Chronicle Managing Editor, Isaac Waniwa were on my case. They gave me 15 minutes to write the story about an event which I had snubbed. I guess they were trying to make me learn the hard way. I went to The Times where Zigara was working as a correspondent and asked if he had attended the event. He told me he had already finished writing the story and he transferred it for me to a memory stick.
I went back to the office and presented the story in exactly 15 minutes much to Kama Phiri’s surprise. Since then we became close friends with Ziggy. The friendship was then cemented in 2013 when he joined Zimpapers as a correspondent replacing Freedom Mupanedemo who had switched to Sunday News. By then I was corresponding for The Herald and Sunday Mail.
Zigara was also contributing to Financial Gazette, The Source and ZiFM Stereo. We shared diaries, he would attend functions and bring me voice recordings and I would cover different functions and bring him recordings as well. This is of course how most freelance journalists survive.
And then we became brothers. We started hanging out together, drinking beer together at his favourite drinking place KwaJivans where he introduced me to his many friends most of whom were from the football fraternity and academia. Zigara loved his beer, oh yes.
I remember when we were invited to Redcliff for a function by the town’s mayor, Councillor Fred Kapuya on the New Year’s Eve in 2015, we drank Johnnie Walker Black Label Whisky and he ended up sleeping on top of a dining table while Minister of Primary and Secondary Education, Professor Paul Mavhima, who was the guest of honour was addressing. I had to whisk him away to his room at the hotel.
Some of the highlights of our friendship involve the manner in which we teamed up to revive Gweru Press Club. Zigara became the Press Club Chairman and I was elected the Secretary General. Each time he wanted a favour from me, he would address me as SG and when he was on top of the situation he would remind me that he was my chairman.
We were always together I would say. I know some of his secrets. But these are for me to reminisce and look back with acute nostalgia. Zigara then joined new Gweru-based radio station 98.4 FM Midlands in the news and current affairs department in 2017.
He was a versatile journalist, adventurous, candid but hard working. He was everything admirable, a likable person, something that I was not. I know I can be irritating and selfish at times but Ziggy was one person who would tolerate me and my weaknesses. He was my source of inspiration.
His versatility endeared him with Midlands Minister of State, Cde Owen Ncube and they became close.
I am the one who had introduced the two to each other when Cde Ncube became Gokwe-Kana MP. Ziggy told me over and over again, “Chinhu chandisingade kuti vana vangu vatambure kana ndafa (I do not want my children to suffer when I’m gone).” Now that you are gone Cde, I don’t think they will. I believe Anenyasha (6) and Wenyasha (1) are in the safest hands of your wife, Michelle. Your two sons can never be anywhere safer.
Go thee well my dear friend, till we meet again.
