They Called It Academic Genocide Part 7: Munatarisa Pasi!!

On our way to NC6, near the Bursar’s Department, we heard a certain lady screaming. On enquiring what was going on, I was literally shocked. Her hand was firmly gripped by a certain man who was seated on the driver seat in a car. He was swearing and shouting all forms of expletives, and promising to beat her up. Nobody knew what was going on. But that didn’t stop the students from surrounding the car and threatening to burn it. The police responded swiftly by spraying teargas. I felt irritation in my eyes and my running nose struggled to handle it.

As tears were streaming down my cheeks and my chest responding to the contaminated air, I couldn’t find the way. I sneezed in vain. The warm tears continued to flow, reminding me of our round hut in the village. My grandmother would shove in some firewood on the fire, triggering embers and smoke. My eyes would turn red and swell before releasing some tears. “Muri kuchemei bambo?” (Why are you crying my boy?) My concerned grandma would ask, trying to correct whatever would have upset me. Only seeing some blurry and hazy images, I would respond sounding as fine as I could be. “Chiutsi Nhewa, handisi kuchema”. (I am not crying Nhewa (her totem), it’s the smoke). I would say to make grandma relax but alas, she would not be eased. “Mirai nditsvage huni dzakaoma. Zvino zvadzakanaiwa manje. Garai nechekudoor uku, kuri nani”. (The firewood is wet but let me search for dry wood. Meanwhile, you can sit near the door where there is better air circulation). “Bambo Finiyasi nechiutsi havazwananiba”, she would announce to whoever will be in the kitchen with a lovely smile, hiding many decades of pain and hardships. Strong and sweet woman!

I thought about her as I was struggling to reach ‘the door’ to gulp a few bars of fresh and relieving air. She had everything from bravery to stories and memories. She told us of how grandfather fought in the Second World War as part of Reserve Forces from Africa, fighting Hitler. She survived the heartbreak of losing grandpa at a very young age. She moved on and garnered more strength along the road. She survived the war. She survived afflictions and ailments. She survived being a refugee for many years. When I was still a little boy with only a distorted and unclear view of life and the world, she would ask me, 'mapasa here kuchikoro?' (Did you pass this term?) and I would grin shyly and say 'ndizvowo' (Not too bad). Then she would continue and say, 'maita number ani?' (What position were you this time?). 'Number 1', I would respond. “Maita bamboo wangu, maita henyu baba. Rambai henyu muchishinga. Ndizvo zvinoda, shingai kuti muende kuUnivesti” (Congratulations my boy, keep it up. We would like you to go to university). She would make a celebratory dance before disappearing to look for presents. Anything. A coin. A fruit. Or whatever. As I was trying hard to contain the teargas induced pain and tears, I thought about my grandma’s kitchen. I thought about roasted maize and cooked yams that would come out of that little rondavel. I wanted to say, ‘Nhewa, now I am at the university’.

PF Sadondo

Gogo had a famous parting statement, "munatarisa pasi bambo"..., which literally translates 'keep your eyes on the ground'. It never made sense to me. Why? Because there is a lot on the ground, she would explain. She would mention snakes, rocks, stumps and everything else that would stumble someone on the road. It took me a while to fully comprehend the essence of such, in a broader context and perspective. Keep your eyes on the ground, be cognizant of your immediate environment. You are allowed to dream far and wide, but keep your eyes on the ground. You can imagine, create and recreate but don't lose sight of where you are placing your feet. It's where you are placing your feet that determines where you are going, and if you'll get there or not. Be conscious of where you are going but keep your eyes on the ground, keep focused. You are here now! You should be aware of what's happening here and now. Don't be aloof, don't be detached. That way you'll have memories of your journey. You'll see crawling and creeping insects. You'll see slithering snakes and rolling rocks. You'll document it all. Maybe the university was about kutarisa pasi, I thought whilst wishing for the burning sensation and pins and needles in my eyes to subside and give me a temporary reprieve to see the way. With no sight, I used instincts and faith to probe for a safe passage.

We continued running for cover. Later I heard that the lady who triggered all this was actually a student who had banged that man’s car as we were going to NC6. The man did not understand the gesture and assumed it was a signal to have his car burnt. He immediately grabbed the student… The tear gas managed to disperse people inasmuch as it managed to justify the radicals’ call for ‘geology’. I could hear stones being thrown around. I saw stones flying around, aimed at different targets. However, no one was aiming at the library, confirming what we had been told before.  “Students don’t destroy their library, no matter how angry.” As stones were whizzing all over, I wished I had gone home when all this started, I regretted once more, holding my books and running. Yes, I had several books in my hands. Although I knew there was not going to be lectures, neither was I going to be studying that day, I just carried my books… Just in case, or perhaps to disguise - to have an alibi.   

I ran in the same direction as the majority, heading to the main university access point near the library. The entrance and exit point used by visitors and university staff. This access point had boom gate and, just like other access points at the university, it was manned by the GBs. As we were approaching it, we expected to see the GBs there. But alas, they were all gone. Everything showed that they had left in a haste. As there was no order at the boom gate, some people were hit by the boom and sustained injuries. I escaped unhurt, fortunately, and found myself on the road, Mt Pleasant Drive. A decision had to be made, to quit and find transport home or to continue with the group and follow this to the end? It was a tough call but when I saw Darlington and Clifford in the crowd, I quickly made a decision. The other reason I stayed, other than for solidarity, was that it was no longer safe to walk alone in Mount Pleasant as a University of Zimbabwe student. Police were being deployed with a mission to crash this. We would see their loaded vehicles driving down Mt Pleasant Drive, to a deployment point, I assumed. They were dressed for a confrontation with ‘criminals’. Some had firearms others had shields and assault sticks. Some more teargas canisters were also brought. Water cannons were not far, I dreaded. I felt and smelt fear in my own thoughts. For the first time since buying them, I became conscious of the weight of my shoes. Will I be able to run in them? “Aluta Continua!”, one student, Tawanda Katsuro -'Cutman', who was a Third Year Law student, took over. He startled me but at the same time gave me some relief; someone was still leading this...