Monday, December 21, 2015

A heart breaking account of a border jumper in search of a better life.


My first trip to South Africa as a boarder jumper



Before I came to SA I worked as an HIV/AIDS workshop facilitator for three N.G.O's Medecins Sans Frontiers (MSF), CWGH and Zimbabwe National Family Planning council.

The Zim government always threatened to shut all NGO's down so I decided to save some money and come to SA. That was in 2006. I had the worst trip ever and I thought it wise to share with you.

I had an unpleasant relationship with some people back then. So no one was happy with the idea of me coming this side.

Somehow my documents got burnt on the very week that I was supposed to come this side. I lost my passport, my birth certificate, my school certificates etc....but I was determined to leave Zimbabwe whether or not I had valid papers.

I spoke to a "Malayitsha" and he charged me R1500 since I didn't have a passport and he said if I added another R300 to make it R1800 he would make sure I get through with no problems at the border gate. Upon hearing that I gave him the money and we left for SA on his Navara on a Friday.

There were 6 of us, including the driver; that is 3 ladies and 3 men. We didn't have any problems throughout the way and when we go to the border at around 7pm the driver asked us to get out of his car so we could "get some fresh air".

As we were standing outside his car he came to me and whispered that his friend was from checking the border gates and the security was tight that night.

He went on to say there was no way he would risk crossing with me so he had no choice but to make me join the rest of his passengers who were to cross through the bush.

I wasn't happy and I made it clear that I wanted my refund and there was no way I'd cross the Limpopo river especially after all the stories I had heard about crocodiles, robberies, rape etc.

However, he would hear nothing of it and kept insisting we were going to be safe. At 10pm we were taken to the bush and we were made to queue. There were now about 40 other passengers who had come with other "Malayitshas".

We were made to queue with ladies with babies 1st, followed by women without babies (I was in that category) then men were right behind us. There were 8 very scary looking guys who were to lead us called "Impisi."

We started on our journey and that was the worst night of my life. We walked for about an hour and a half in the dark till we got to Limpopo river. I was tired and hungry and my feet were swollen.

When we got to the banks of the river we were told to sit and rest for a while. As we were sitting I looked around at the people we were with and I felt sorry for the women who had babies. I realised that all this time none of the babies had cried or made noises.

There was a frail looking old man amongst us and I felt sorry for him. I asked myself what could have forced him to take this route. As I was busy "analysing" people, we were ordered to stand up, take off our shoes and start crossing.

As we were queuing to get into the river a man started to give us orders that it was each man for himself in the water and no one was supposed to hold anybody else's hand.

He went on to say the river was full of crocodiles and he so wished that one of us would be attacked so that the crocodiles would concentrate on the victim and therefore make it easy for the rest of to cross peacefully.

He kept going on and on about how he wished one of us would be attacked by crocodiles and those words sent shivers down my spine, I was so scared.

By the time we started into the river I was crying and regretted my decision of coming.

As we were walking in he insisted that we try and avoid stepping on rocks as they were all slippery. Unfortunately, I did not hear him properly and I thought he said we should step on rocks and avoid walking on sand.

We slowly got into the river; it was so dark and scary and the water was cold. The rocks in the river were so slippery it was so difficult to walk, I kept slipping and sometimes even falling.

The river was getting deeper as we crossed, which made it so difficult for me to even lift my legs. It dawned on me that all the swimming lessons I did during my high school days at Townsend surely didn't apply here.

At one point I lost my balance, slipped and almost drowned. I grabbed the man in front of me by his jeans and even though he swore at me, I never let go. When we got to the other side of the river, I quickly let him go before he could see me.

Babies were crying, I guess it was because they were cold and hungry. It was a sad sight, mothers and their kids completely wet and there was no time to breastfeed. It was like iMpisi didn't have a conscience because they insisted we continue walking regardless.

We walked for another 2 hours or so. I was so tired I started having breathing difficulties. I desperately needed my asthmatic inhaler but unfortunately I didn't have it with me that time.

I tried hard to contain myself until we reached the so called "station" (hiding place) where we were to sit and wait for our "Malayitshas."

From where we were I could see the "lights of Musina" and I smiled and thought to myself "Nobuhle welcome to Jozi."

We were being called one by one depending on who's Malayitsha came first. We watched from the bush as people were called and ran to the main road to jump into their cars. Everyone's car came except for ours. About an hour later our Malayitsha was still nowhere to be found.

Because we were cold, tired and hungry we fell asleep and when we woke up we looked around and Impisi had all gone.

It was only me and my fellow passengers from our Malaitsha. We had all left our phones in Nkosi (Malayitsha's) car the previous night and we all knew we were doomed.

One of the guys we were with suggested we start walking back so we could find a safer place to hide as he thought of a plan.

We started back, I was hungry, weak and extremely tired. We walked for about 45 minutes and I could tell from the faces of the people I was with that we were getting lost.

We finally sat under a big tree and no one seemed to be in the mood to talk. After a few minutes I broke the silence by asking if anyone had Nkosi's phone number.

Luckily one girl said she had wrote it down because she didn't have a phone. She wasn't sure if the numbers were still clear as her jacket had been soaked in water the night before.

Fortunately the numbers were still clear but the question now was how were we going to contact him.

We had no choice but to wait till the break of the night when other people would start crossing so we would join them and probably use their phones to contact Nkosi our Malayitsha.

We all sat there quietly and I started looking around and I was shocked to see I hadn't noticed that there were people's clothes all over, blood stains and sjamboks... a clear sign that people were mugged on that very same spot we were.

Upon seeing that I stood up and grabbed the lady with Nkosi's phone number by the hand and I asked her to come with me. The rest of the guys we were with pleaded that I stay with them claiming it wasn't safe for us to leave, but my mind was made up, I wanted to go back to Zim.

I started back to where we were the previous night. It really wasn't difficult for us to find the place as I followed the sound of cars in the main road. The lady I was with was shocked to see me walking straight to the main road in Messina. I tried to stop all Police cars I could see but they all didn't take notice.

Eventually one police van stopped, the driver got off, came to me and asked if I was in some sort of trouble and I simply said to him "Baba singamaborder jumper besicela lisibophe" (we're border jumpers please arrest us).

The policeman burst out laughing and called his colleague who was still in the car. He asked me to repeat to his partner what I had jut said and I innocently repeated because I didn't see anything wrong with what I said.

They both laughed and one of them opened the car and told us to jump in. The lady I was with didn't seem impressed and I could tell she was shocked about what I had just done.

We all sat there quietly till we got to a Deportation Center in Messina which looked more like a prison. Our names were taken down and the police officer kept making fun of me telling everyone that I pleaded with them to arrest me, which made everyone laugh and hence the prison guards took notice of me during my stay there.

We were thrown into a prison cell and the place was very crowded, hot and stuffy. 90% of women in that cell were Zimbabweans. Most of them had babies who wouldn't stop crying.

There were men on the other side and the male and female cell was only divided by drums. The place was noisy and I thought to myself "I won't survive this"

Later the prison cell was opened and we were told it was time for lunch. I was amongst the first in the queue. I overheard a woman behind me saying she won't eat anything because she once heard that the food they serve there has slow acting poison because the South African government is tired of fending for Zim refugees and wants to get rid of them.

When I heard that lady saying that I wanted to step out of the queue but because I hadn't eaten in two days but I was so hungry I could even eat rat poison if it was the only food they had.

I got my plate of pap and cabbage. The food was terrible, cabbage sinking in water, you could tell it was only steamed. But the truth of the matter is I enjoyed it and when a guard saw me licking my fingers laughed saying it must have been the hunger that had driven me to beg the policeman to arrest me.

We went back to the cell and this time (after eating) I was a bit focused. I took Nkosi's number and I looked around for someone with a phone. I sent Nkosi a message and he quickly called back.

I told him where we where and how disappointed I was, I started shouting at him and him being a calm person that he is, simply responded he'll make a plan. Even though we were crowded in that cell, the number of deportees kept increasing by the day which made it even more difficult to breathe.

The men on the other side made it worse by climbing on top of drums and proposing to women in our cell.

We went to queue for supper again later that evening and the same prison guard was there busy making fun of me again but I didn't mind him.

When we got back to the cell all I wanted was to sleep. I slept for about an hour and then we were woken up and counted. There were so many of us and the prison guard kept losing count and starting all over again. It was so terrible.

In the morning we were woken up very early and our names were taken down and we were taken back to Zimbabwe.

We were taken to place in Beitbridge where there were people from home affairs who forced us to sit and started to lecture us about getting passports and the dangers of border jumping etc.

On the other side I could see caterers busy cooking for us and the food smelled nice I just couldn't wait. Next to them were some men preparing food hampers for us including barley, cooking oil and beans, which we were supposed to take home with us.

The lecturers were taking too long but all I wanted was to eat and be shown the bus to Bulawayo. As I was sitting there listening to their lectures, the lady whose phone I had used previously told me Nkosi had called and was waiting for me and the lady I come with at the gate.

We went there and to my amazement he was in a meter-taxi and he took us to a house in Beitbridge. I told Nkosi I wasn't interested in going to South Africa anymore, all I wanted was to go back home. But he'd hear nothing of it and told us we'd be crossing to SA again later that night

Apparently the house they took us to belonged to a friend of Nkosi. It was only one bedroom.There were about 4 more "border jumpers" already crowded in that small room who were meant to join us that night. I asked Nkosi about the rest of the guys we had initially come with and he said they had not contacted him. He just didn't seem to care.

His friend asked us if we wanted to bathe, I'm sure it was his polite way of telling us we were stinking. I was shocked to hear him ask everyone to leave the room so they could give us space to bath.

He filled up a small bucket with water and gave us soap and towels. The thought of sharing such little water was quite devastating but I had no choice that day.

We bathed with that little water and the water splashed everywhere. Later on lunch was served, my first decent meal in 4 days, pap and beef stew.

As we were eating, Nkosi was busy lecturing us about the journey ahead of us. He made it clear that as long as we didn't have passports there was no way we'd cross right at the border.

Night came, we got into his car and started off. We got to Beitbrigde border post and already there were other "border jumpers" in a queue already waiting to set off. Just like last time, women with babies infront, followed by women without babies and then men at the back.

This time there were around 60 of us including iMpisi who were about 8. It was during winter and it was so dark. We walked quietly but a baby kept crying and it really didn't seem to go down well with the other guys.

Every time the baby started crying we were told to stand still and the mother of the baby warned if she failed to control her baby she would be forced to leave us. I thought to myself "how can one control such a small baby"?

We kept walking and when the baby cried again the mother was violently dragged out of the queue and told to remain behind and join us when her baby was quiet. The woman cried and pleaded that it wasn't safe for her and her baby to stay behind but she was accused of "talking back" and one of the guys slapped her really hard.

When she tried to run after us, the same guy kicked her, she lost control and fell losing grip of her baby who also fell hard on the ground. It was a terrible scene....

We kept walking leaving them behind, there was nothing we could do. The men had shown us they mean business and disobeying them wasn't a good idea. When we got to Limpopo river we were told to sit and rest for a while.

I looked back to see if there was any sign of that woman and her baby but there was no sign of her at all.

I realised the Mpisi were the same ones who had deserted us the last time. God why would Nkosi want to put us through such a situation again?

We took off our shoes, just as we were instructed last time not to hold each other, we started crossing Limpopo river. the other lady and I had little experience as we had crossed the same river before and this time it wasn't that difficult.

I was right behind a lady who was carrying a very small baby, I watched her closely as the water was getting deeper. She lifted her baby higher and the current waves made her slip and stagger but somehow managed to keep moving.

When we finally crossed the river this time around we were not given time to rest, we continued walking. It was so quiet in the bush all we could hear was our foot steps.

We got to the border fence; there were two fences. One fence had a very big hole and the other looked more like a burglar gate and had one or two bars sightly bent.

To make it fast, all "big bodied people" were instructed to go through the hole and the "slenderberries' were to slide over the openings on the burglar fence. Knowing I'm slender I quickly rushed to the burglar fence. When it was my turn, I tried to squeeze in but somehow my breasts were caught up and I was stuck.

There were so many "slender-berries" waiting to get in through the same fence and the Mpisi tried to push me to the other side but to no avail. I was stuck.

The pain in my breasts was unbearable. The guy had no mercy but he finally managed to pull me back in and I fell hard on the ground.

The angry Mpisi said I should go to the other fence but when I got there as I was eagerly waiting to cross, a guy grabs me by the hand and pulled me out of the queue saying I was too thin and I should go to the burglar fence.

I tried to explain my breasts were caught up but before I could even finish, the guy almost clapped me saying I'm stubborn. He instructed that I go to back to the burglar fence.

Crying, I went back there and but the other Mpisi was angry and he told me I was not special.

I quickly rushed back and this time I didn't talk to anyone, I jumped the queue and crawled into a hole in the fence and got to the other side of the border fence. When everyone had jumped to the other side, we walked a distance of about a 1km when all of a sudden people in front started screaming.

I then realised we were surrounded by these evil looking men with big torches. There were so many of them all dressed in black.

They forced us into a circle. And all 60 something of us were searched one by one. People who tried to resist were beaten into a pulp. Those guys had no mercy. In 10mins there was blood everywhere. I was so scared, I thought the worst.

As I was saying a silent prayer, a woman who was standing next to me was picked and was gang raped right in front of us. She just lay there and let them do as they pleased until they were done.

She couldn't stand and one of the border jumpers was forced to rape her again. He failed and he was stabbed several times and the attackers said; "You deserve to die, no man turns down a naked woman."

I was so traumatised seeing that man lying there. They went on to rape two more ladies and in a split of a second they were gone.

The Mpisi acted like nothing had happened, we were told there was no time and that we had to keep moving. I helped up the woman who had just been raped, she still had no clothes on and we didn't have time to look for them either.

One woman with a baby lent us her towel which she used to cover her body. She was so weak but I kept encouraging her until we got to the "hiding station."

This time we were the 1st to be called, I saw Nkosi's car on the side of the mainroad, The lady I was with and I ran and jumped in and Nkosi drove as fast as he could.In about 20mins he started slowing down and I realised he was coming towards a police roadblock.

When we got to that road block one of the police officers quickly opened the passenger door and asked us to come out. He held his torch right on our faces and when he saw me he laughed and pulled me to the side and asked if I had "sorted my papers".

That is when I realised he was the same police officer I had pleaded with to arrest me when we got stuck in Musina the other day. He was so friendly to me and asked me how it was like in the Deportation Center and why I wasn't deported as expected.

Every time I tried to respond, Nkosi our driver would interrupt trying to confuse the police officer that it wasn't me but too bad that man knew me very well.

Finally Nkosi tried to give him a bribe, which he refused to take and let us go wishing me good luck.

This didn't go down well with Nkosi who started accusing me of flirting with the police.

All the way he was busy preaching to me that women with my "mentality" (of entertaining men) usually don't last in SouthAfrica.

About 5 hours into the journey the car came to a stop. Nkosi opened the passenger door and asked us to come out. It was still dark outside and he told us to go into the forest nearby, find a place to hide and wait for him there till the next morning.

He said he had run out of fuel and he could only access his money when the banks opened the next morning. He said he'd fetch us in the morning and that he'd hoot 5 times.

To hear him say that really tore me apart considering what we had been through on the very same night and now he was asking us to go through that again. Tears started flowing as we made our way to the dark forest once again.

I didn't know where I was, none of us knew our location that time. We heard the sound of Nkosi's car driving off as we tried to find a place to hide in the dark mist of the night.

The place looked more like a farm. Most of the ground was cultivated and the area was clear so we kept walking further down looking for a place to hide. We finally found a conducive place amongst the trees. The night was so cold we just couldn't sleep and no one said anything util it dawned.

Hours went by and Nkosi was nowhere to be found. It seemed to me like I was the only one who was worried, everyone else seemed calm.

I badly missed home and regretted ever coming here, I so wished I had allowed the South African government to deport me that time. Crossing the crocodile infested river had traumatised me. Seeing an innocent woman with a small baby being forcefully left behind in the dark mist of the night had made me realise how cruel some people can be.

The men who had gang raped a woman right in front of her husband and everyone else left me speechless, and now I was back in the bush again. God I wanted to go back home.

After several hours of waiting Nkosi came to fetch us and we started on our journey to Johannesburg.

It was at around 10am and I hadn't eaten anything since the previous day. Nkosi didn't seem to care.

I fell asleep until we finally got to Nkosi's place in Tembisa. It was an RDP house which was well furnished and his wife had already prepared water for us to bathe.

As we were bathing I could smell the aroma of the food she was cooking. I badly needed to eat.

After we had all bathed Nkosi called us to his dining room, personally I thought he was calling us to tell us the food was ready but Alas! He had a plate of pap and chicken right in front of him and a phone on his other hand which he was busy scrolling.

He told us one by one that he had tried to contact our relatives around Jozi and none of them had responded.

He said my aunt wasn't answering her phone and asked if I had any other contacts in South Africa of which I didn't. I only had my aunt's number.

Nkosi said none of his customers slept over at his place, we all had to go. He bragged that he needed time and space to be with his wife. So after his meal he'd take us all to our relatives, he said if he failed to locate my aunt he would take me to his elder brother who badly needed a wife.

I had heard of such stories before whereby the Malayitsha would "sell" women to whoever was willing to pay them if they failed to "recover" their money (Human trafficking)
I never thought I would be in such a situation.

Nkosi ate right in front of us knowing that we hadn't eaten in days and he was busy threatening to take me to his brother if he failed to locate my aunt.

As he was about to finish eating my aunt (now late) called and told him to drop me at her place in Soshanguve Pretoria.

I heard Nkosi lying that I had a balance of R500 and that if he was to take me to pretoria he'd charge her R300 more which would amount to R800.

My aunt (MHRIP) being a good person she was didn't dispute that.

The other lady couldn't locate her sister, the number was off and Nkosi threatened to take her to one of his friends who seriously needed a wife. Nkosi had turned to a monster.

We got into the car and Nkosi drove us to Pretoria. The other lady was crying all the way until we got to my aunt's place in Soshanguve.

All of a sudden Nkosi was all smiles. She gave him all the money he said I owed and he opened the door for me.

I ran to my aunt and cried so hard, flashbacks of all that had happened started playing on my mind as I cried in my aunt's arms.

Nkosi interrupted ethi "umntanakho lo uyadedesa angazi uzohlala naye njani."

He went back to his car and before he drove off I went to the car to bid the other lady farewell.

Seeing her crying like that broke my heart but there was nothing I could do. I watched as Nkosi started his car.

My trip was now over but it was now the beginning of my life Journey in South Africa.

by Nobuhle Vi

Sunday, December 6, 2015

Methembe's Ndlovu grassroots soccer changing lives








 

Above Zimbabwe's national under 23 soccer star and former Highlanders darling and player and coach Methembe Ndlovu standing shoulder to shoulder with Sir  Ferguson and David Beckham and few other soccer greats.





People's Professor remembered!



Tribute to Sam
One of the amazing things about Sam Moyo is that though he led a thoroughly professorial life, writing papers, attending conferences and publishing books and articles, Sam always had time for people. He loved people in the greatest sense and that love was returned in equal measure, as shown by the outpouring of emotions since his fatal accident two weeks ago.
From the start of our marriage in 1992, it was apparent that family life was very important to Sam. Every Sunday we visited Gogo (Sam’s beloved mother, Mavis Moyo) and some of his siblings in Harare, Lindiwe and Phahla, or Rhey and Julie, or Mabhena and Winnie. Outside Harare, Sam always looked for opportunities to visit Nkosana in London, John and Sharon in Lusaka, and Mike in Gweru, or Josh Nyoni who was practically a brother. Other regular family visits were to Gogo Khethiwe and Khulu Liberty Mhlanga, or to Auntie Sheila, or to the Mubis and Munyatis. Among other close friends who were like family members, Sam considered Chloe Paul as a kindred spirit.
Sam’s children were the light of his life. Sibongile, Thabisile, Samantha, Qondisile and Zandile brought him such joy and inspired him to build and keep building for the future. Because of his busy travel schedule, Sam could not attend every school event of his children, but he made time to mentor them. When they were young his mentoring was about monitoring their behaviour and inculcating decent values. As they grew older, it was about their education and professional development. Sam loved going on trips with his family and regularly took the girls to Victoria Falls or to places like Bulawayo, Great Zimbabwe, Lake Kariba, Hwange National Park, South Africa, Beira and Chobe National Park.
Equal to Sam’s love for people was his love of ideas. By pulling together people and ideas, Sam created great value in the world. He was an institution builder who drew people to his cause. With Yemi Katerere, he had set up the Zimbabwe Environment Research Organisation (ZERO) while on the staff of the Zimbabwe Institute of Development Studies of the University of Zimbabwe. After the SAPES years with Ibbo Mandaza, Sam created the African Institute of Agrarian Studies and a recent great innovation was the establishment of Agrarian South journal. Sam’s engagement with Codesria was always pivotal and he valued deeply his relationship with scholars such as Thandika Mkandawire and Adebayo Olukoshi, not to mention the numerous South African scholars whom he visited and was visited by frequently. Among feminist scholars with whom Sam engaged during the 1990s, Elinor Batezat Sisulu, Patricia McFadden, Micere Mugo, Ama Ata Aidoo and Amina Mama were important figures. From his youthful days as a student in Sierra Leone during the Rhodesian era and later as a teacher in Nigeria, Sam continued to nurture relationships with like-minded intellectuals he had connected with outside his home environment, such as with the Trinidadian scholar David Johnson.
Sam’s talent for adding value put those who lived or worked with him under great pressure. Anyone who stepped into his home office would be put to work, researching issues, editing documents, staying up till 3am to ensure work would be submitted on time because Sam was always very professional about meeting his deadlines.
Sam’s kindness was legendary. He always extended a helping hand and would never reject any plea for assistance. There were weekend invitations for almost everyone he met and at Christmas he would invite development partners who had not been able to make it home. His kindness and his dynamism ensured that there were always people in our home, including many enduring friends who are mourning this week all over the world.
Sam and I enjoyed a fruitful marital and intellectual collaboration for many years. Though our marriage ran aground in the 2000s, we remained great friends, regularly in touch over our mutual interests, primarily the children and also, inevitably, the inexhaustible topic of the political economy of Africa.
Article taken from face book  written By Dede Amanor .( Ex wife to the late Prof Moyo)

Friday, November 27, 2015

Julius Malema trashes Nelson Mandela's legacy!



Controversial South African politician Julius Malema says President Robert Mugabe is an "opportunist" who waited until he was losing power to implement land reform and South Africa under him would never follow the 91-year old's method.
The Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) leader was addressing students at the University of Oxford Wednesday. He said the EFF would continue the fight for the return of land to black Africans and the equitable sharing of South Africa's mineral wealth.However, he said Mugabe's bloody land grab method, which saw thousands of white farmers and their black workers violently driven out of their properties, was not exemplary.
"We are not going to do what the Zimbabweans have done; of drawing the blood of innocent people. There's nothing wrong with Mugabe's policy on land, but there's everything wrong with the method used to obtain the land. We cannot have people killed, injured because you want your land back.
"Mugabe had more than 25 years to pass legislation through democratic means that would systematically take the land back, he did not do anything about it. He only introduced that policy at a time when he was losing power, it was opportunistic.
"You ought to pass legislation through parliament in line with your constitution that will take land back to the hands of people."
Malema's comments come at a time when Harare sees him as a close ally. Mugabe's loyalists like former indigenisation and current local government minister Saviour Kasukuwere see Malema as a personal comrade.
During Malema's last visit to Zimbabwe, a few years ago, he expressed his support for Mugabe and was shown wearing a Zanu PF shirt emblazoned with Mugabe's image.
At Oxford, the EFF leader also fell sWith Agencieshort of describing first SA black president Nelson Mandela as a "sell-out" who was unable to complete the revolution because he was "too old" and "tired".
"The deviation from the Freedom Charter was the beginning of selling out of the revolution. When Mandela returned from prison he got separated from Winnie Mandela and went to stay in a house of a rich white man, he was looked after by the Oppenheimers, Mandela used to attend those club meetings of those white men who owned the South African economy.
"He stayed in one of their houses, they had access to him 24hours. They told him what he represented would not be achieved, that's when he turned against himself.
"The Nelson we celebrate now is a stage-managed Mandela who compromised the principles of the revolution, which are captured in the Freedom Charter.
"The Freedom Charter is the Bible of the South African revolution. Any deviation from that is a sell-out position. We normally don't use phrases like Mandela sold out, he was too old, he was tired, he left it to us.
"We have to pick it up from where he left it. That's why he said the struggle is not over, political freedom is incomplete without economic freedom. I will say Nelson took us to a point and left it to us to take it further."
Malema added: "We are not going to compromise like Madiba did, perhaps it was necessary to have a cooling-off period, but we cooled off for too long - 21 years. Now is the time. It is possible, it is going to happen. Universities are even beginning to listen, those are the most stubborn institutions, they are being made to listen."
For billionaires Patrice Motsepe and Cyril Ramaphosa (SA Vice President) Malema had utter contempt. The two, he said, "sold their black skin" to become rich.
He said despite Motsepe and Ramaphosa being billionaires they had "not invented anything, unlike that young man who invented Facebook".

With agencies

Izitemo zako Dube


Dube elimthende
Nzwakele, Khutshwayo
Maqhama, Lushozi
Mbuyazi akethekeli kubafokazana
Silwane esihle
Mageza ngobisi abanye begeza ngodaka!
Dube elimthende
Wena kaMligwe
Wena kaMbonjane
Wena kaBatshwayi
Wena ongethekeli nakwandodakazi
Uzwakele ndoda
Ongathekel' emzinemikhulu
Ongathekeli komakhelwane
Othekel' emanxulumeni
Nina bakwaDonda kwaMbangambi
Ndlovu khaliph' ezinye zilibele
Nina bakwaNzwakele kaKhushu
Nina beshumi lamhlomunye
Nina bakaMagwaz' ebuyelela
Nina beqhawe lakwaLind' ukudla Shozi
KaFani kaNomkhayiba
Ka Fana fuzanamafu
Dlubulandledle
Ntamo ngeyendlondlo
kaSiphabantu ngobubahlubulela
Ngenze ngonyama entanyeni
Ngoba yehle kanzima kanzinzimela
Mgwezi wamaduna namathokazi
Nomkhwayiba waseKunene
Silwane kaNjila kaNgothoma
Mqhawe
Mafukuzela
Mvelase
Qhudeni Mvelase
Owave' eNyandeni yemikhonto yakwaMabaso
Mvelase kaGuda
Ongawadl' amathibani
Mnisi wemvula ilanga libalele
Ngoz' ovel' eNyandeni
Ngoza kaMkhubukeli kaGazi
Nina baseMlamlankunzi
Zilotshwe nguFaith Silandulo Dube!

Liberation war hero Cephas Msipha opens a lid on Gukurahundi

Story By Fungi Kwaramba

HARARE – Respected Zanu PF elder, Cephas Msipa, has penned a book that could set the cat among the pigeons within government circles as it spotlights on democracy deficiencies in the country and how authorities did little as an estimated 20 000 innocent people, mainly in Matabeleland and the Midlands, were brutally killed by the Fifth Brigade in the early 80s.

Cephas Msipa
Cephas Msipa

The book, titled In Pursuit of Freedom and Justice — A Memoir, dismisses the official massaging of narratives on the Gukurahundi atrocities as “a moment of madness”, saying as the massacres happened over a period spanning more than five years, they cannot therefore be described as such.
Querying the reasons why the government had deployed the military in the western regions of the country then, Msipa also asks why it was “necessary for North Korea to train this army (5th Brigade)” in the first place, adding almost despairingly that “only God Knows”.
“Innocent men, women and children perished in their thousands. They were accused of either harbouring dissidents or supporting them. It turned out to be a massacre of people perceived to be PF Zapu supporters.
“The fact that the people were Ndebele-speakers was regarded as sufficient proof that they were PF Zapu supporters and therefore dissident supporters,” reads part of the book.
He also described the statement that the massacres were “a moment of madness” — which is attributed to President Robert Mugabe — as absurd, adding that three decades after Gukurahundi was launched, it still raised “more questions than answers”.
In one of the strongest condemnations of one of the darkest periods in the history of post-independent Zimbabwe, Msipa — who fondly refers to Mugabe as his muzukuru (nephew), and helped broker the unity accord of 1987 that ended hostilities between Zanu and Zapu — described the killings as “gruesome”, calling on authorities “to look into the aftermath of Gukurahundi.”
“Gukurahundi was not a day’s event or a ‘moment of madness’. It began in 1981 and continued until 1987 when the unity accord was signed.“There were meetings at which the matter was raised in my presence, and Mugabe insisted that the matter be discussed so he could learn more about what had happened and was still happening.
“The question is why did he not know what was happening when it was in the media and many human rights organisations and churches were publicly protesting (about it),” Msipa writes.He also claims in the book that as early as 1960, Mugabe was already keen on establishing a one party state in the country.
“Mugabe supported the idea of a one-party state back then, but he did not speak much about his personal experiences in Ghana. It was as if something had gone wrong while he was in Ghana, which he did not want to disclose,” Msipa said.Despite the two men enjoying a decades-long friendship, Msipa was fired from Mugabe’s cabinet during the Gukurahundi era and placed under house arrest, something he says still puzzles him up to this day.A man of steadfast principles and strong convictions, Msipa also says in the book that when Zanu split from Zapu in the early 1960s, he was allegedly approached by Mugabe to desert Nkomo, but refused “When the split occurred, Mugabe had approached me and asked if I would join Zanu. I told him I would not because I did not trust Ndabaningi Sithole. He then said to me, ‘I hope this will not affect our relationship’.“Why should it?’ I replied, and indeed it in no way affected our friendship, which continues up to now. He remains my ‘Muzukuru’ and I remain his ‘Sekuru’”.Msipa also touches on the disputed 2008 elections in his book and says it was during the presidential run-off elections where the “army was active” that he had decided to end his illustrious political career, as he had been appalled by the army’s involvement in the elections.
“At one election meeting, in chief Mazvihwa’s area in Zvishavane, I was surprised to find myself sharing a platform with army commanders.
“I kept asking myself, ‘is this the freedom we fought for?’ … it was there that I made up my mind that I would never again participate in elections where people were openly threatened and intimidated into voting for any political party,” Msipa said. Daily News

Tsholotsho man changing lives

People keep telling me that the factories in Bulawayo are closing, and do you know why – it’s because we did not build those factories. I am not saying it’s a good thing they closed, but I am saying this is an opportunity for us to build with our own hands. If I – a local person – builds a factory I am unlikely to shut shop and go one day. But the question remains why are we not building – the first thing is that we need to believe in ourselves, and know that before the Lord we are complete. It’s a question of identity – you and I need to know that we are images of the living God, this is our source of strength. Only with that understanding will we do anything, if we see ourselves as God sees us, then we will move. It’s knowing whose you are – your identity is in Christ, you belong to the Lord, and before the Lord you are equal to anyone else.I started in 2008, building with what I have – going to Botswana and buying and selling things, and now I own a filling station.  Then I thought of what at the time I called a green Gwaai project – I wanted to turn the area around me green. I dug a well and put a tomato greenhouse, I’ve been doing this for 2 years now. I expanded last year and laid some piping from the borehole, I now have a drip system for my tomatoes – so in winter I harvest vegetables – cabbages, tomatoes etc. though I still grow maize.
All this work I am doing is an investment, we must invest in the coming generations, invest in our children so they can survive without begging, this donor syndrome has hurt our children, our children are capable, and this erodes their sense of self. I am trying to help them build projects that do not require a donation from elsewhere, I am really fighting this dependency, and it’s difficult because there is only one of me. A lot of them are now seeing what I am saying though, that I am not looking to be asking, and therefore people are now digging their own wells, and the gospel I have been preaching that we are enough, with God we are enough, we do not need anyone else is starting to bear fruit. We have to start with what we have.I am mobilising groups over there in Tsholotsho to build this, it’s a new thing, and it’s not always easy. I have offered a local women’s group access to my well – I love working with the women, they are more responsible I am sorry to say. I am helping them raise money by enabling them to fatten their cattle which helps them raise more money than just selling the cattle as they are. Our method is that they can only take profit out, they cannot sell the cow and take all the money because there would be problems – people will start depleting the family herd and eating into their capital. If anyone wants to leave the project we do not give them money, we help them buy another cow, so they leave with as many cows as they started with – and the only money they can take out is the profit they earned. This way we keep peace in the homes, we can’t have fathers depleting the family herd for money – all we want is simply a way to raise capital.
At 52 I am one of the youngest former freedom fighters – I joined the war at 15, and even during the liberation war this is what we used to teach – that we must build with our own hands. I tell people I am not a war vet, I am a freedom fighter, the term war vet has become associated with a mercenary attitude I do not like. When we went to war we were called abalweli be nkululeko (freedom fighters), people sometimes have the wrong idea that we went to war to fight white people – we went to fight an unjust system that was making it impossible for us to develop ourselves. And I am still fighting the injustice of under-development today. But now I am doing it with different tools.

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

No sign of wise men in Zimbabwe at least for now!

Dry November



Guys we are facing impending disaster caused by a drought that threatens to break all records. Passed through Victoria Falls the other day and was shocked to find that half of the mighty falls has dried up and on the Zambian side it has completely dried up and the mighty Zambezi is nothing more than a stream. With temperatures averaging 35-42 degrees celcius and no significant rains the entire region faces famine and since we rely on hydro for energy we can expect severe power cuts. The attached pictures show the mighty falls on the Zambia side.Yes its dry.
Its 11 months into the year meaning two things: The year is pretty much over and Christmas is here. I noticed a sparsely decorated Christmas tree like structure at Fazak the other day. In this part of the world, nothing much changes except the vegetation that was green when the year started and has been roasted brown by the fierce October sun. We had a heatwave that broke some records a few weeks back.It was so hot you could fry an egg by just putting it in a pan and leaving it outside for a few minutes. Then suddenly temperatures plummeted and out came the winter coats for a few days. Still no rain. The Met people are predicting an erratic rainfall season, we beginning to suffer the effects of climate change I suppose. The country is dominated by 2 types of people.Prophets and politicians.Sometimes the lines are blurred between the two as they all engage in the business of people.
 The ordinary man in the street is caught up in a ritual of survival, consulting the prophet for a miracle and reassurance in an uncertain future and hoping the politician will have a Damascus road encounter. Somehow the country is still functional and peaceful. The shops are stocked up,commodity prices are falling in the deflationary environment, the stock market is falling, the value of the rand is falling so much that in the Eastern parts of the country they don't use it any more and ominously the peoples appetite for national issues is also falling. To survive you have to sell something, either food, clothes, gold, diamonds, livestock, your body and God forbid, your soul. Some rural people are now selling their children for as little as $100. Its not all doom and gloom though. The Courts recently have been emphatic in upholding the law though the enforcers are slightly reluctant to comply. The schools here are still functional and you will still find some of the best in Africa. The roads are still there and being repaired from time to time. The epitome of Zimbabwean greed, that Mr Cuthbert Dube has been dislodged from a comatose ZIFA and PSMAS. Socially its an eclectic mix. The kids live in their own world of Vuzu parties, sex drugs and hip hop. Naked parties have become trendy among the young ones whilst their parents populate prophetic churches

. The downward spiral has hit the entertainment industry with Delta reporting a sharp drop in beer and soft drink sales causing the corporate giant to struggle. Harare still keeps the country spirits up with its heady mix of prophetic churches, cultural events such as the recent carnival whose highlight was the bikini clad Brazillian Samba girls and the bare breasted Matebele maidens.It still is the sunshine city. Being one from the Diaspora the environment is a bit suffocating and from time to time I go out to get a bit of fresh air. We looking for wise men now, no longer just from the east but also from the West and from anywhere actually, as long as they can come loaded with gifts of gold frankincense and myrrh.

By Joseph Qobo Mayisa in Bulawayo!

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Ndebele cultural day looms in Botswana


GABORONE - YOU can take people out of Matebeleland but you can not take being Ndebele (ubuNdebele) out of them.
A massive event is on the cards as the Gaborone community is set to join Mthwakazi celebrate their Ndebele Cultural Day in Botswana.
Kindled by Masiyephambili Cultural Group in 2012, this annually event has gained popularity and grew bigger over the years by attracting scores of people as well different Ndebele cultural stake holders from all over the world.
This is year's spectacle will be held at the Baobab Hall in Gaborone on Sunday 29 November 2015. Proceedings will commence at 10 in the morning until 6 in the evening.
Musicians and cultural organisations that will share the  stage include: Balete Cultural Group, Casper, Ubuhle Bemvelo, Ibutho leNqama, Insukamini,  and Zinjaziyamluma amongst others.They will be several cultural leaders including Mthwakazi chief in South Africa; Chief AZ Gumede.
Event organizers Masiyephambili Cultural Group can be contacted
umthwakazireview.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

Zimbabwean artist making light of life in Johannesburg Egoli"



JOHANNESBURG - Some people are born great, some achieve greatness whilst some have greatness thrust upon them. One way or the other this clinically applies to Mothusi Bashimane Ndlovu of Shilolo Media.
"A dream never dies," as he often encourages and inspires, this wholeheartedly God loving young-man was born and in Matulungundu in Gwanda. He went to Manama High School for his O' Level and then completed his Advanced certificate in education at Zezane High School.
The screening of his highly awaited Madlela Skhobokhobo Power 2 'Ihloka' was met with much jubilation and satisfaction among the multitudes of spectators that graced the Hillbrow Theatre on the 14th of November.
Working alongside Plum Media, the 90 minute film drama returned most of its actors and promises to surpass Madlela 1's standards. The film, which is most likely to be a huge hit, is expected to hit the shelves by early December.
Ndlovu, popularly known as Madlela, has met and overcame many challenges, he leaves no stone unturned to dignify Mthwakazi's arts, he exposes, teaches and warns about the lifestyle people of Matebeleland encounter in South Africa, Hillbrow in particular.
"Our dream is to bring dignity to Mthwakazi arts at any category. We call on the community to support us because the task we have is epic. Lets do our own things, lets support our artists like Mehlokazulu and Martin to name just a few," he said.
"Madlela 2 is about life in the flats of Joburg, sike sihleke ngempilo esiyiphilayo eGoli.
We further highlight the diverse Africans and their cultures living in Hillbrow. We expose what lengths do our people go and how low do they stoop to survive in this country. We also tackle the issue of identity crisis and encourage people to appreciate where they come from," he added.
"We also urge especially youngsters to concentrate on their studies as they are no shortcuts in life, they must work hard, pursue their dreams and ask for guidance the Lord will surely see them through," he warned.
The film got a massive blow when one of it's main actors Mazinyane (MHSRIP) sadly passed away at the beginning of the year.
"It was a painful blow to me as a friend and as a film writer because i had written Madlela 2 when he unfortunately passed away. I had to re-write it because we needed a new plot. In his honour, we did not replace his character but we found a suitable way of taking him out," he concluded.
Actors for Madlela 2 include: Mothusi Bashimane Ndlovu, Nondulo Queen Ngwenya, Noble Charles Nxumalo, Gift Dube, Bhonyongo Hadebe, Goodwill Radebe, Mongezi Mpofu, Thuli Khumalo, Bigfoster Nkomose and Vusani Khumalo.
Under his media house Shilolo Media, Ndlovu has two films which he handed over at the DSTV channel Mzansi Magic namely: Bafo and Silence with the latter being accepted and is set to play soon.
Some of the facebook pages to get hold of these great projects are:
Madlela - Skhobokhobo Power 2 "ihloka"
 Written by Simanga Phakathi kaMoyo! 

Friday, November 20, 2015

FAA recognizes Zimbabwe's first female pilot!




The Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) is recognizing Civil Maris Sikhosana with inclusion in the prestigious FAA Airmen Certification Database.
The database, which appears on the agency's website at www.faa.gov, names Sikhosana and other certified pilots who have met or exceeded the high educational, licensing and medical standards established by the FAA.
Pilot certification standards have evolved over time in an attempt to reduce pilot errors that lead to fatal crashes. FAA standards, which are set in consultation with the aviation industry and the public, are among the highest in the world.
Transportation safety experts strongly recommend against flying with an uncertified pilot. FAA pilot certification can be the difference between a safe flight and one that ends in tragedy.
The FAA recently announced that is it increasing the qualification requirements for co-pilots who fly for U.S. passenger and cargo airlines. These requirements mandate additional minimum flight time and training, as well as aircraft specific training.
"Safety will be my overriding priority as Secretary, so I am especially pleased to mark my first week by announcing a rule that will help us maintain our unparalleled safety record," said Transportation Secretary Anthony Foxx in a press release. "We owe it to the traveling public to have only the most qualified and best trained pilots."

According to the FAA, the new regulations stem in part from the crash of Colgan Air 3407 in February 2009. An investigation of the crash revealed that pilot Renslow, had failed three "check rides" (the flying equivalent of driver proficiency tests) and may not have had adequate training to respond to the emergency leading up to the crash.
The FAA offers a variety of pilots licenses and certificates, each with a different set of privileges. These levels include Student, Recreational, Sport, Private, Commercial And Airline Transport Pilot.
Pilots with a student pilot certification are not permitted to fly solo and are barred from carrying passengers. Sport pilot certificate holders can not carry more than one passenger and are permitted to only fly light-sport aircraft during the daytime.
The highest level of certification is the Airline Transport Pilot Certificate (ATP), which is required to fly a commercial airliner.
To obtain Airline Transport Pilot Certificate, pilots must possess a commercial pilot license, have more than 1500 hours of experience in aircraft and be at least 21 years old. However, pilots with an aviation degree can qualify for the certificate with just 1,000 hours.
Pilots obtaining an Airline Transport Pilot Certificate must also pass an exam covering air law, general aircraft knowledge, flight planning, meteorology, navigation, instrumentation and other important topics.
Pilots are required to pass a physical examination administered by a FAA-authorized medical examiner.
There are a number of medical conditions that the FAA considers disqualifying, such as Bipolar disease, cardiac valve replacement, coronary heart disease, diabetes mellitus requiring hypoglycemic medications, disturbance of consciousness without satisfactory explanation of cause, epilepsy, heart replacement, Myocardial infarction, permanent cardiac pacemaker, personality disorder that is severe enough to have repeatedly manifested itself by overt acts, psychosis, substance abuse, substance dependence, transient loss of control of nervous system function(s) without satisfactory explanation of cause.
Pilots are required to report to the FAA's Security and Investigations Division any alcohol-related vehicle actions, such as an arrest, administrative action, driver license suspension.
The FAA has reason to be concerned in general about alcohol use by pilots. Recently, a 48 year-old American Eagle pilot was forced from the aircraft cockpit after airline employees smells alcohol on him. The pilot,Kolbjorn Jarle Kristiansen , subsequently failed a breathalyzer test and was arrested.
The Federal Aviation Administration's Airmen Certification Database contains the following listing:
UniqueID: A2626138
FirstName: Civil Maris
LastName: Sikhosana
Street1: No 4 Le Roux Drive Hillside
Street2:
City: Harare
State:
Zip:
Country: ZIMBABWE
Region: EU
MedClass:
MedDate:
MedExpDate: A2626140