The Long Return

Ezekiel Hleza 

UNCLE Branis Moyo wanted me to accompany him to Malipuluhulu, my home. The message or rather the order was relayed to me through brother Jabulani Sibanda. He called both of us “batshana bami,” his nephews. 

He had not been to our home since that evening in late December 1979 when he spent close to half an hour talking to us, especially to his aunt, Gogo Lomalanga Mlilo who came immediately after his mother, Sdumo Mlilo. He was armed with the AK- 47, a Makarov pistol, and two hand grenades. 

Gogo Lomalanga did not believe that it was indeed her Branis, her elder sister’s son talking to her and wanted him to prove that by showing him the gap on the left side of his lower jaw. Branis removed his cap and opened his mouth exposing the gap. It was the story behind the gap that had led him to serve six years in the Rhodesian prison which saw him miss not only the funeral of his mother in Malipuluhulu back in 1965 but also the funeral of his brother Samuel or Mpostoli in Salisbury in 1968. Both Branis and Samuel were very active Zapu youths in 1963 when Branis was arrested and imprisoned for six years.

When the import of Uncle Branis’s message finally soaked into my mind I realised that I was the proverbial gatekeeper to the ancestral shrine and as such I had a sacred duty not to deny a genuine and deserving entry. 

I did not only know the testing place of Sdumo Mlilo, Branis’ mother but also that of Naka Sdumo herself, Madlozi Baloyi or ugogo uMatshakayile as she was popularly known.

Madlozi Baloyi became Nduku Mlilo’s fourth wife through a very curious connivance between her father Skhukhuza Baloyi and Nduku Mlilo. Nduku was the son of the Chief of the uMncwazi regiment, Mtotobi Mlilo and MaNtimeni. As a proud member of the uMncwazi regiment, Nduku attended the installation of King Lobengula in 1870. Gogo Lomalanga Mlilo who came immediately after Sdumo used to tell us “Obaba yibo ababeka uLobengula esihlalweni”.

Skhukhuza was married to a MaMlilo who was a traditional healer. Armed with this traditional medical practicing knowledge and kit, MaMlilo brought food to the table for the Baloyis.

When her husband asked for the medical kit (Iyika) to use it also to bring food to the table MaMlilo readily agreed. She got more than she had bargained for. Skhukhuza on getting the medical kit disappeared and vanished into thin air.

When it became clear to MaMlilo that Skhukhuza was never going back and had cheated her out of her ancestral healing kit, she decided to leave Gasaland and took her three children, two girls and one boy, and embarked on the search mission. The children were Madlozi, a girl and her first-born, Maphandle, the second and only boy and Nkomozami the last-born girl. She searched high and low for years until she finally caught up with Skhukhuza who had become Nduku’s son-in-law at Mgandla having married his daughter with his first wife MaDube, NakaSilugu.

Thus caught flat-footed and cornered by the indefatigable woman, Skhukhuza the wily fox of Gasaland proved to be the proverbial cat with nine lives. He dug deeper into his bags of tricks. He revealed to Nduku, his father-in-law, that the medical kit he was using to fend for his family was not his but belonged to his wife who had finally caught up with him. If MaMlilo got back her medical kit which she rightly would and left him to find life elsewhere which she was determined to do, Skhukhuza and his wife, Nduku’s daughter and their children would starve. 

However, if Nduku agreed with his plan to marry his daughter, Madlozi, it would force MaMlilo to stay. Nduku listened to his son-in-law as he wove his proposed intricate matrimonial tapestry until it was finished. He was impressed and allowed Skhukhuza to finish the web where Madlozi would be caught and brought to his matrimonial bed.

When Skhukhuza arrived at Mgadla, Nduku welcomed him as his brother-in-law who was a traditional healer, but when he married his daughter he was his son-in-law. But now if Nduku married Madlozi Baloyi, Skhukhuza’s daughter with MaMlilo it would be something else. She was his niece and then she would be his wife.

When Madlozi was approached with the proposal she almost killed herself by throwing herself on a rock headlong, not only because Nduku was her uncle but also because he was a very old man, by age her grandfather whose one leg was already in the grave. 

But finally and as fate would have it, Madlozi Baloyi, Skhukhuza’s daughter with MaMlilo became Nduku Mlilo’s fourth wife and bore him Sdumo,in 1910, Lomalanga in 1915,Mvuli,the only boy in 1918,Sehlakubi in 1922 and Sehlulekile in 1926.

The warrior of the spear and the shield of uMncwazi regiment was not finished yet as in 1915 his fifth wife gave him a son and called him Ndiyafa, followed by Gawana in 1922, Nzima, the only girl and Mazinyane in 1926.

Both Madlozi and Nkomozami went on to distinguish themselves in the traditional medical practice, with Madlozi reigning supreme in Kezi and Gwanda South while Nkomozami conquered Filabusi with her trade for more than half-a-century.

In December of 1977 while on her deathbed Madlozi Baloyi welcomed a senior ZPRA guerrilla in her hut in the evening who introduced himself as a new warrior carrying a new spear fighting to return the land taken by the whites from the black people. He helped her hold the AK-47 for close to a full minute. Even on the day of her funeral in early January 1978, the same senior ZPRA guerrilla who was also known as uMahamba yedwa or uMaphosa, approached our homestead to enquire what was happening when he saw a lot of people gathered. 

He is the one who informed my mother, Selinah Mlilo, Mvuli Mlilo’s daughter that her grandmother, Matshakayile, as Madlozi Baloyi, Naka Sdumo was popularly known. At that time mother was in Selibe Phikwe Hospital looking after sister Reginah whom ZPRA had entrusted to her when she fell ill on arrival in Botswana in August of 1977 and could as a result not proceed to Zambia.

After surviving one of the fierce battles with the Rhodesian forces aided by helicopter gunships in northern Gwanda where he lost three of his comrades, Branis approached a traditional healer who told him that he had survived that battle because of a very strong woman who was his mother’s mother and the same man told him that because of that old woman he would survive the war and see an independent Zimbabwe.

As we entered the area of Ratanyana (Ratabanyana) by bus I reminded Uncle Branis Moyo that we were moving towards the battle zone of the fateful 11 February 1979. When the bus got to the point directly opposite the site where the SF 2 ZPRA Regional Commander, Mphini, and his other eleven (11) comrades took their final stand against the Rhodesian air and ground forces from 8 am to 4pm, I saw Comrade Shumba, Branis Moyo, the former ZPRA Regional Commissar for SF2 and acting ZPRA Commissar for the Southern Front, raise his hand in salute until the bus went past the area. 

He had been with Mphini in Marinoha two days before the fateful incident and had prevailed upon him when the former had wanted to engage the Rhodesian forces in the area. They had then parted ways when Mphini moved towards Ratanyana while Shumba moved towards Matopo. 

On hearing the news of the Regional Commander’s death he had to change course and came down to Ratanyana, to the very spot of Mphini and his comrades’ last and final stand, and compiled a report to the ZPRA Headquarters in Lusaka, in Zambia. The bond between Mphini and Shumba had not been broken even 44 years later. 

I did not need to ask him anything when he put down his hand while the distance towards home became shorter and shorter and the evening drew closer with the pale glow of the August setting sun. My mind took me away from Ratanyana to the events after the December 1979 visit.

About two days after his visit we learned from the radio that Lookout Masuku, the ZPRA Commander, and 44 members of the High Command and general staff had landed in Salisbury. They were followed a day or two later by the Head of Security (NSO) Dumiso Dabengwa. We learned also that Josiah Tongogara the Zanla Commander had died in a vehicle accident in Mozambique soon after returning from Lancaster House after negotiating the ceasefire agreement with Dabengwa and Masuku and the Rhodesian forces commanders. 

This brought with it an atmosphere of foreboding. The stage was then set for the return of the political leaders themselves, Joshua Nkomo and Robert Mugabe. I was among those selected to go to Salisbury for Nkomo’s welcome rally at Zimbabwe grounds set for Sunday,13 January 1980 at Highfields.

We boarded the Pelandaba Bus Service bus at Mbizo Business Centre in Sibitiela. There was jubilation and excitement though tampered with a feeling of uncertainty about the security situation. This was not helped by the disturbing news that we received from Comrade Essau Mashila when we arrived in Gwanda in the evening. 

We were informed by Cde Mashila a Zapu field officer that they had received the news that 20 ZPRA guerrillas had been killed in an ambush by the Rhodesian forces on their way to St Paul Assembly Point in Lupane. We had an overnight stopover in Gwanda.

On the morning of Saturday,12 January 1980, we proceeded to Bulawayo. Notwithstanding the sad news about the Lupane tragedy, there was a defiant mood on the Pelandaba Bus captured in the song;

Tshay’ ibhunu

Tshay’ubulale

Bazamkhumbula

Bazamkhumbul’uNkomo

Mhlan’esithi

Smith uzangiding’ungswele.

In Bulawayo the atmosphere was both explosive and electric along Lobengula Street where the Zapu offices were located and the place where buses to Nkomo’s welcome rally in Salisbury picked up the travellers. The Zapu youths were singing and shouting boisterously. They were marching and were very confrontational. 

The Rhodesian police kept an eye on them from a safe distance. The buses had Nkomo’s head and shoulders big photograph with the inscription “The Lion of Zimbabwe has come home” on the windscreen.

At about 2pm we boarded a P Hall Shu-Shine bus whose driver was called Job. He was a pleasant and lively character. It was the singing throughout until we arrived in Salisbury late in the evening.

On Sunday, 13 January 1980, I woke up not to a sea but a boundless ocean of people. I had never seen such a huge crowd of people. Even to this day, I have never been part of such a crowd. I realised then that I was at Zimbabwe Grounds not to welcome Joshua Nkomo, the Zapu President and Commander in Chief of the ZPRA Forces, but to welcome Zimbabwe itself. My mind travelled back home to Malipuluhulu and as it did so, I realised that what was before me and what it symbolised was made possible by the AK-47, the SKS, the LMG, the PK, the Gronov, the Desheka, the Zegeu, the bazooka, the Gun57, the Gun 75, the SAM 7 missile, the Grad P and the whole arsenal of the struggle. It was all these that had made all this boundless human spectacle possible. 

I wondered where Cde Shumba, uncle Branis Moyo was at that particular moment when I was part of that amazing spectacle.

At eleven o’clock two helicopters overflew the Zimbabwe Grounds at a very high altitude. The Zimbabwe Grounds below shook in an earthquake of rejoinder as every boundless ocean of human hands wanted to touch the sky. Nkomo had arrived.

A long wait followed until late in the afternoon, at about 4pm, when a helicopter flew at low altitude from the east, went past the Zimbabwe Grounds to the west, and then turned for landing in the boundless human ocean. After it had landed I saw a banner of red, green, gold, and black with stars on the edges being raised on the platform. The crowd went wild and then came on the platform stage a choir of young women and men dressed in a green military uniform which burst into the war anthem “Don’t Cry For Me”, setting the stage for Nkomo’s return home address.

Zimbabwe had finally come and it had come through a bloody and fratricidal war of liberation which brought a lot of pain and suffering. It was now time to forget the past and work for peace. It was a time for peace and tranquillity, a time for forgiveness and reconciliation, and build a country where all people irrespective of colour or creed were to work and live together in social harmony and peaceful co-existence, a nation where the colour of one skin would be regarded as an accident of birth and one’s language an accident of geography, not a passport to privilege and opportunity.

As I left the Zimbabwe Grounds heading back to Malipuluhulu it was now the return of my twin brother, Clever, my mother, Uncle Miziyabo, Kephas, Moffat, Judith, and little Winston, and friends that were uppermost in my mind. My sister Reginah had died in Botswana and would not be coming home at independence. 

Independence came after the elections of 27, 28 and 29 February 1980 where I voted at Kafusi Dam Rest Camp. We later learnt of the death of Uncle Miziyabo Mlilo in Zambia. It was after Miziyabo that my mother Selinah came.The others returned but my twin brother Clever’s whereabouts were unknown. It was not until June 1981 that I received a letter from Tripoli in Lybia that we heaved a sigh of relief. 

In the envelope, there were two letters, mine and my sister Reginah’s. We were happy that Clever was alive after all, but sad that he was not aware that sister Reginah was no more. We waited for his return until 16 October 1981 when he finally returned home. He and his comrades were welcomed at Salisbury Airport by Lieutenant-General Lookout K V Masuku. He was then attested into the Zimbabwe National Army’s 4.8 Infantry Battalion.

As I led Branis Moyo, Shumba, to the resting place of his mother, Sdumo, I was reminded that Samuel or Mpostoli, his elder brother after Emeli, Georginah and Gideon were lying in Harare Prison for the cause of the liberation struggle which causes he had followed. It was at the resting place of Naka Sdumo, Madlozi Baloyi, or ugogo uMatshakayile that Shumba took a much longer time of reflection and meditation. 

I wondered whether as the acting commissar for the ZPRA Southern Front which took him to Maranda, Namande towards the east he had managed to walk on the footprints of this grand lady from Gasaland and her indefatigable and indomitable MaMlilo on their search for Skhukhuza. 

During those rare moments of reflection and meditation, this grand lady would close the profound episode with her favourite line of:

“Ukhanya kude

Bemuzwa ngezindaba

KoMabhungele”

Perhaps this may not be the long return, after all, as the PRIZE for the long return is taken by the Nation’s tribute to the Warriors Of Zimbabwe at Pupu, when the Nation came together and reconciled itself with its past and its history, beyond the region, beyond tribe and beyond language as captured in the epic song that has resounded through the ages:

Kudala kwakungenje

Umhlaba uyaphenduka

Kwakubus’uMambo loMzlilikazi

Sawela KuTshangane

Saguqa ngamadolo

INkos’uLobengula

Yasinyamalala

Khona mhla kusin’izulu

Yasinyamalala.