memoirsfromzimbawee

The moment were entered the dust road, I held my breath. Soon we were in the narrow road leading into the thick forest. We negotiated through a bumpy road with protruding stones and rock outcrops. Our pickup track jaked from side to side, and the irritating impact of tyres crashing on small rough stones seemed endless. My uncle held on to his steering wheel with measured concentration, his face serious as beads of sweat flowing freely down his face right through the nose. His t-shirt was soaked and I could feel the smell of his sweat in the hot African sun. He labored on with every ounce of his energy. “These roads are treacherous, and the District Development Fund are not doing anything to maintain these feeder roads” he complained, cursing inwardly. “But do not worry, we will reach the farm today”, he reassured me, though with a hint of resignation. We were on our way to his farm, and he was determined to ensure that I would admire his new farm. The remainder of the journey was very long and we did not talk. It was round mid-day that I suddenly realized as I observed the sudden change in vegetation that we were now closer to arriving at our destination. As a turned my head at him, I saw beams of smile and that was enough to tell me that were now a matter of few kilometers away.

All day long workers at the Midlands Steel Company waited for their allowances anxiously. It had been a long day, and none dared to leave. Today was the proposed day and date. “Any signs from the Cashier’s Offices?” enquired Zuze the Grounds Foreman. “Looks like there is no activity, I just noticed the Salaries Clerk holding papers” chirped in Derek the Grounds Supervisor. In small groups the workers sat on the lawn engaged in discussions, and running around in childish frolic. They had not worked all day long, and what they wanted was their money. Though it was close to five o’clock they stayed on. Suddenly everybody started gathering in the Company Hall. In front of them stood Zex the Workers Committee Chairman. “ I have good and bad news for you” he continued “Today you are going to be paid in US Dollars, would you believe it, but the promised amount has been cut drastically to accommodate us all, at least we have won the struggle”, he looked at them with a broad smile. They all held their breath. “Now listen carefully, as soon as you leave this place go straight to the Cashier’s Offices and you will see your respective grades written on different windows, then you will collect your payout.” he concluded.Out trickled out the workers as they headed to receive their long awaited payout

Their heads were so close together. These were heads of four tough men whose lives seemed doomed. Somewhere in the corridors of power it had been secretly revealed that  they were no longer wanted by the people, and they have been voted out overwhelmingly. That was not what they were prepared to listen to. Their ears were deaf. With wrinkled foreheads and narrow eyes on their visage, they quietly plotted their next move. Above all force was what they understood, they had done it before and why not go for the jagular, silencing them for good. Among these four men, one school of thought advocated use of power of the weapon, the fierce weapon. Another school of thought was a more cautious and thinly disguised one, the use of food to starve them to submission. Those who refused their way would surely and regrettably succumb to hunger. Those heads, grey heads, bold and stiff heads held no solution for the people, they had been stretched to the limit and they no longer held noble facts and ideas . They were going for the final solution in their ideology, the ruthless plot.