A real War Vet

I only met General Solomon Mujuru, a.k.a Rex Nhongo just once. All I remember was that he looked very...ordinary. Just a normal human being. I remember very clearly that he stammered. Colin Firth in The King's Speech reminded me of him. I also remember that unlike other military and political types whose hands I have shaken, he did not give me the hibby-jibbies. No cold shudder went through my hand, no strangeness in his eyes. Just a very well bathed man in a nice suit.
It is no surprise to hear all the accolades pouring out about this hero of my country's liberation struggle. Growing up, "Mukoma Nhongo" was for many of my generation synonymous with the armed struggle against colonialism. A famous liberation war song went, "hona Mukoma Nhongo, bereka sabhu tiende chauya-chauya", (brother Nhongo take up your sub-machine gun let's go. What will be, will be). This was the only name some of us knew. It was as if he was the whole liberation army, all by himself, carrying that sub-machine gun. In my childish mind of course, a sub-machine gun sounded like a glamorous thing to carry on one's back. I had little idea of the gravity of the struggle and what it was like for the women and men actually fighting this war. My war. Our war.

Fast forward to the present day. Each year, when ZTV plays the footage of the struggle, it is Rex's picture chatting and laughing with his "boys" that keeps playing, over and over again. He keeps laughing. It is always hard to imagine that he went to war in his early 20s.
At University I shared desks with dozens of military people. I was to learn that it was thanks to Comrade Rex that many of them went back to school after independence. I learnt that he pushed them to get educated so that they could run a better army, or even get out of it if they so chose. The mark of a leader, always wanting the best for his/her team. No wonder we have one of the most educated armies this side of the Sahara.

Over the last few years his power and influence has acquired mythical proportions. Yet he held no official position, and neither did he ever speak to the media. He was there. But not there. He was talked about, and he didn't talk about himself. Unlike some of our so called "leaders" in present day Zimbabwe who have the habit of calling themselves "Honorable", or "Ambassador such and so". As one of my mentors, Gemma Mbaya, used to say, if you have to call yourself Honourable, rather than us honouring you, then there is something totally dishonourable about you!

To say my blood went cold, when I got the text message telling me about Comrade Rex's death and how he died, would be the understatement of the year. I froze. From fear. From pain. From sheer disbelief. Here was a man who survived the Smith regime's forces for so long,unable to save himself from a house fire? As my Kenyan friends would say, a whole General, burning to ash in a large house, all by himself. No alarm raised on time? Nothing? I am one of those who just doesn't believe this was a simple fire accident. We have seen too many of these accidents to know better.

I hold no brief for the man. But we all must hold a brief for one another as human beings. Nobody deserves to die in this way. A liberation war hero, a political opponent, the wife you no longer want. Noone. Even if it was an accident, nobody should die in this manner.

I fear for my country. I fear for all of us lesser mortals. If Comrade Rex could die in this manner, what about we of no consequence? As we would say back home, isu hedu vana kapuracha?

Thank you Comrade Rex-Solomon for the good fight you fought for me, for us. Thank you for being an exemplary leader. Above all, thank you for showing us that it is not too hard, to be just a normal human being.