J.Hyde
Apprentice
- Jul 31, 2020
- 212
The Republic Of Zimbabwe is a country that had only existed in its present form for 16 years. Previously, it had been Rhodesia, a colony of The British Empire that was created by Cecil Rhodes under the guise of the British South Africa Company in 1890, its territorial apex had resulted in it being the controller of modern Zimbabwe, parts of Zambia, South Africa, and Botswana. Like South Africa, it had been a white-dominated land, where the native black Africans were marginalised in most forms imaginable by the white African or European settler minority. Arguments with The British Government over what form an independent Rhodesia would have caused the country, which wished to retain its policy of white-supremacy over the majority black population, while The British sought to require a more inclusive approach, resulted in the state unilaterally declaring independence in 1965. This declaration was not recognised by the world, who continued to consider Rhodesia as an "unruly colony". Despite the subsequent isolation and economic sanctions, Rhodesia had been able to survive not only the crippling affect of isolation on the international stage, but also the uprisings within its borders by black-nationalists, such as Robert Mugabe and the Zimbabwe African National Union - Patriotic Front, for 15 years.
However, victory was eventually won with the swift dismantling of white-minority rule over the course of 1979 and 1980. What resulted was Zimbabwe, dominated by the self-identified Marxist-Leninist Robert Mugabe. During that time, white-minority rule was replaced by oppression of all colours. The white population were progressively marginalised or forced to flee the country, resulting in numerous cases of white Zimbabweans being murdered in racially-aggravated attacks or their land being seized without compensation. This would result in there being more former-Rhodesians living as citizens in The United Kingdom than as Zimbabweans.
Furthermore, the resulting policies of Robert Mugabe had served to cripple the country's economy. White farmers, who had been able to expand their agricultural holdings to become wealthy through the large-scale production of cash crops, such as tobacco, coffee, peanuts, and cotton, had been replaced by black farmers, who's total experience had been living to producing wheat or maize in quantities capable of sustaining themselves and their family. The sudden replacement of farmers who had nurtured their land into a thriving business by those who had never experienced commercial-scale farming in their life caused the agricultural sector to crash. Zimbabwe was slowly, but surely, collapsing. Its ability to maintain its road, rail, telecomms, and power networks was failing, resulting in it needing to import most of its electrical needs from its neighbours, and rolling blackouts due to the native power plants being too old and lacking in maintenance to function.
In short, Mugabe had merely equalised the suffering. No matter your skin colour, your life in Zimbabwe would be wrought with blood, toil, tears, and sweat.
"And I ask of you, what has Mugabe done for us?" A black, middle-aged man said to patrons of the bar he had begun speaking in. "Everyday, our families and friends go hungry. Our money becomes ever more worthless, and our 'glorious' rulers continue to grow fat off of the back-breaking labour we must do just to survive. They do not care about us, they probably don't even want us!"
"What do you propose to do about it?" One of the drinkers snarked back. "Fight Mugabe?"
A chorus of laughter erupted from the bar, but quickly ended when the speaker responded.
"Yes," He replied. "That is precisely what we should do."
The patrons all stared with disbelief at what this elderly, by Zimbabwean standards, man was suggesting. The overthrow of the sitting government.
"Is it that hard to believe?" He declared. "15 years ago, many people decided that it was worth it to fight against the white man's tyranny, so that we could live happier lives. That fight lasted 15 years, and we, the people, won against all the odds. What's changed to make us answer that question with a different answer? The fact that Mugabe is, like us, black? Clearly, he does not feel that we are worthy of a better life after the hardship we experienced under Ian Smith, the white man who thought we were not worthy of the vote, because we are black. Nothing has changed, we are still poor, struggling even more than when the white man was in charge. No one is going to change things for the better for us, we must do it ourselves, or we will die in the same poverty we are living in."
The crowd glanced amongst themselves, some murmuring in discussion of what they had just heard.
"If what I said meant anything to you, I'll be outside." The speaker said with a dejected sigh before trudging out of the bar, and into the beer garden adjoining it. Taking a seat, he put his face into his hands and huffed angrily. A former fighter of The Rhodesian Bush War, he expected a better Rhodesia or Zimbabwe to come out of the blood he'd shed. Instead, it was worse for everyone, and no one seemed to care.
"May I join you?"
Looking up, the dejected black male was graced with the rare sight of a white man. Considering how the white minority, at its height, was around 296,000 people in 1975 in contrast to the millions upon millions of blacks, and this had rapidly declined as they'd fled the country after Mugabe took control, it was a metaphorical "one in a million" chance that had actual substance.
"Go ahead," He mumbled, while letting a hand sweep across the table towards the seats surrounding it. "There are plenty of seats to take."
"Thank you," The white man said gratefully. "It's rare for someone like me to be treated with courtesy these days."
"And why is that?"
"Because I'm white," He replied, while gesturing towards his skin. "I am, in the eyes of many, a foreign invader."
"Were you?"
"Born and raised here. Middle class white family, owned a modest tobacco plantation back when the country was Rhodesia. I grew up and joined the security forces during The Bush War."
"Ah, we may have fought on opposing sides at some point, and never knew it."
"That may be true. I joined the army, because that's what I thought a proud Rhodesian would do. I did my duty, even if I didn't agree with who was giving the orders."
"Oh? In what way did you disagree?"
"The rights of the blacks. They served in The Rhodesian Defence Regiment during The Bush War. Even when the government was actively saying; 'You're black. You don't count.' There were blacks who stood up and said; 'I'll defend Rhodesia from Mugabe'. When you love your country to the point where your own, hateful, government's actions mean nothing in comparison, even someone like me can see that there's a greater good worth fighting for."
"Hmm, true words if I've ever heard them. I'm Rudo Matchaba."
"Trevor Hawkins."
However, victory was eventually won with the swift dismantling of white-minority rule over the course of 1979 and 1980. What resulted was Zimbabwe, dominated by the self-identified Marxist-Leninist Robert Mugabe. During that time, white-minority rule was replaced by oppression of all colours. The white population were progressively marginalised or forced to flee the country, resulting in numerous cases of white Zimbabweans being murdered in racially-aggravated attacks or their land being seized without compensation. This would result in there being more former-Rhodesians living as citizens in The United Kingdom than as Zimbabweans.
Furthermore, the resulting policies of Robert Mugabe had served to cripple the country's economy. White farmers, who had been able to expand their agricultural holdings to become wealthy through the large-scale production of cash crops, such as tobacco, coffee, peanuts, and cotton, had been replaced by black farmers, who's total experience had been living to producing wheat or maize in quantities capable of sustaining themselves and their family. The sudden replacement of farmers who had nurtured their land into a thriving business by those who had never experienced commercial-scale farming in their life caused the agricultural sector to crash. Zimbabwe was slowly, but surely, collapsing. Its ability to maintain its road, rail, telecomms, and power networks was failing, resulting in it needing to import most of its electrical needs from its neighbours, and rolling blackouts due to the native power plants being too old and lacking in maintenance to function.
In short, Mugabe had merely equalised the suffering. No matter your skin colour, your life in Zimbabwe would be wrought with blood, toil, tears, and sweat.
"And I ask of you, what has Mugabe done for us?" A black, middle-aged man said to patrons of the bar he had begun speaking in. "Everyday, our families and friends go hungry. Our money becomes ever more worthless, and our 'glorious' rulers continue to grow fat off of the back-breaking labour we must do just to survive. They do not care about us, they probably don't even want us!"
"What do you propose to do about it?" One of the drinkers snarked back. "Fight Mugabe?"
A chorus of laughter erupted from the bar, but quickly ended when the speaker responded.
"Yes," He replied. "That is precisely what we should do."
The patrons all stared with disbelief at what this elderly, by Zimbabwean standards, man was suggesting. The overthrow of the sitting government.
"Is it that hard to believe?" He declared. "15 years ago, many people decided that it was worth it to fight against the white man's tyranny, so that we could live happier lives. That fight lasted 15 years, and we, the people, won against all the odds. What's changed to make us answer that question with a different answer? The fact that Mugabe is, like us, black? Clearly, he does not feel that we are worthy of a better life after the hardship we experienced under Ian Smith, the white man who thought we were not worthy of the vote, because we are black. Nothing has changed, we are still poor, struggling even more than when the white man was in charge. No one is going to change things for the better for us, we must do it ourselves, or we will die in the same poverty we are living in."
The crowd glanced amongst themselves, some murmuring in discussion of what they had just heard.
"If what I said meant anything to you, I'll be outside." The speaker said with a dejected sigh before trudging out of the bar, and into the beer garden adjoining it. Taking a seat, he put his face into his hands and huffed angrily. A former fighter of The Rhodesian Bush War, he expected a better Rhodesia or Zimbabwe to come out of the blood he'd shed. Instead, it was worse for everyone, and no one seemed to care.
"May I join you?"
Looking up, the dejected black male was graced with the rare sight of a white man. Considering how the white minority, at its height, was around 296,000 people in 1975 in contrast to the millions upon millions of blacks, and this had rapidly declined as they'd fled the country after Mugabe took control, it was a metaphorical "one in a million" chance that had actual substance.
"Go ahead," He mumbled, while letting a hand sweep across the table towards the seats surrounding it. "There are plenty of seats to take."
"Thank you," The white man said gratefully. "It's rare for someone like me to be treated with courtesy these days."
"And why is that?"
"Because I'm white," He replied, while gesturing towards his skin. "I am, in the eyes of many, a foreign invader."
"Were you?"
"Born and raised here. Middle class white family, owned a modest tobacco plantation back when the country was Rhodesia. I grew up and joined the security forces during The Bush War."
"Ah, we may have fought on opposing sides at some point, and never knew it."
"That may be true. I joined the army, because that's what I thought a proud Rhodesian would do. I did my duty, even if I didn't agree with who was giving the orders."
"Oh? In what way did you disagree?"
"The rights of the blacks. They served in The Rhodesian Defence Regiment during The Bush War. Even when the government was actively saying; 'You're black. You don't count.' There were blacks who stood up and said; 'I'll defend Rhodesia from Mugabe'. When you love your country to the point where your own, hateful, government's actions mean nothing in comparison, even someone like me can see that there's a greater good worth fighting for."
"Hmm, true words if I've ever heard them. I'm Rudo Matchaba."
"Trevor Hawkins."
