Someone Wishes to Speak to You (27 page)

Just a few days before Christmas, the press reported that a large group of workers at the Honde Tea Estates in the Eastern Highlands had been brutally bayoneted in front of their families. The terrorists were purported to have told the onlookers that the killings had taken place as a punishment
to all people working for the white man, and had given the reason that as their wages were so low, they were better off dead. After the slaughter, the insurgents quickly disappeared and returned across the border to their terrorist camps in Mozambique. Rhodesia’s European community, as well as some of the peace-loving Africans, had been greatly shocked, with the Minister of Defence, P.K. van der Byl, stating that it was ‘an act of unspeakable brutality’. The UN voted overwhelmingly to tighten sanctions on Rhodesia, and Britain decided to increase its humanitarian aid to Mozambique.

Soon after his return from another enjoyable Christmas and New Year spent with the Kinlochs, Mathew had what turned out to be his last meeting with Edgar and Joshua at his Castle Beacon camp. He found them both very different from the jovial young men he was accustomed to; their broad smiles had been replaced by expressions of solemnity and dejection.

Due to the increased level of intimidation in the villages dotted around the Vumba by the ZANU/PF political activists, and the growing level of insurgency within the Vumba region, the National Parks Department had directed David Montgomery to close down the botanical gardens, board up its buildings, pay off his staff and return to Salisbury at the earliest opportunity. As so many Europeans had already decided to leave the region for their own safety, bringing unemployment upon a large number of Africans, ZANU/PF intimidation within the community had become quite a common occurrence.

‘Edgar, what on earth happened to you?’ asked Mathew, shocked by the prominent scar over his right eye. Edgar was initially reluctant to tell him, but after a couple of Mathew’s lagers he spoke more freely. ‘I will agree to tell you, as long as it goes no further. I know I can trust you. It was an activist from ZANU/PF – he attacked me on the way to work and took me to their camp in the forest. First of all, a few
of them interrogated me about my friendship with you, the “white-man” living at Castle Beacon. They tried to force me to sign a document stating that “Dr Mathew Duncan is using his time studying the monkeys in the forest just as a front, and is stationed in the Vumba to act as an informer to the security forces”. I said I wouldn’t sign it – nor would I move the weapons that they asked me to. So they beat me with a truncheon, kicked me and left me in the forest.’

‘It distresses me greatly to think that they targeted you because of me. I’m so sorry, Edgar, that our friendship led to you being hurt like this.’

‘The leader told me that when I returned to the village, I was to carry a warning to my father. He said that Robert Mugabe expected all members of the Manyika tribe to support the ZANLA freedom fighters in their efforts to overthrow the racist government of Ian Smith. He wanted the Manyika tribesmen to help the insurgents cause as many problems as possible for the Rhodesian security forces while they carry out cross-border raids on their camps in Mozambique. He said we should help because these raids have already accounted for the deaths of so many of our fellow tribesmen.’

Mathew could not have been more thankful to Edgar and Joshua for their help and friendship over the last eighteen months. When it was time for them to leave, speaking in the Manyika dialect that they had taught him in happier times, he promised to make contact with them through Chief Chidzikwee as soon as the political and racial problems in the country could be successfully resolved. As he grasped their hands and patted them both affectionately on their backs, gestures of a sad farewell, he gave each of them an envelope containing some Bank of Rhodesia currency to add to the small retention wage that they would receive from the National Parks Department, to help them to maintain themselves during this uncertain period of unemployment, distrust between races and conflict.

Prior to them leaving Castle Beacon, Edgar took the opportunity to speak to Mathew out of earshot of Joshua. ‘When they attacked me, I heard the names of three of them. Here – I’ve written them down.’ He passed a scrap of paper to Mathew. ‘Two of them work locally, so you must keep out of their way at all costs. Be careful.’ Mathew noticed that while his friends were trying to smile as they said goodbye, their eyes were welling with tears. They left his camp to retrace their tracks down the mountain to the botanical gardens, to help David Montgomery close it down for an indefinite period, then to return to their respective ‘protected’ villages in the TTLs.

Mathew wished that he was in a position to employ Edgar on a regular basis and perhaps take him along to Inyanga. Although, bearing in mind the misery and uncertainty among the African communities that had resulted from the massacre on the Honde Tea Estate, this might have been a very dangerous course of action.

Although Mathew had yet to decide whether he should remain in the Vumba, he had almost completed his field observations on the Stairs’ monkeys and the comparative work he had more recently carried out with the vervets. Therefore, if terrorist attacks were to occur in the area (members of the security forces had already warned him that it was very likely to happen), this could well be an appropriate time to close down his camp and leave what could easily become the next hub of insurgency.

During his recent stay with the Kinlochs, the Group Captain had tried to persuade him to transfer his camp to the much safer environment of his orchard estate. He had already offered his home as a future base for Mathew’s field studies when Mathew mentioned his interest in carrying out some comparative observations on the social life of the ubiquitous chacma baboons,
Papio ursinus
, which occurred in quite sizeable numbers in the Inyanga National Park. Apart from Addie’s
regular weekend visits, he lived on his own for the majority of the time and he had said how very much he would enjoy having Mathew as company. ‘But if you decide to come to stay with me,’ he had told Mathew emphatically, ‘I want no more of this Group Captain nonsense – I insist you call me Miles.’

Just over a fortnight after David Montgomery closed the Vumba Botanical Gardens to the public and returned to Salisbury to take up the appointment as senior botanist at the National Parks headquarters, the Leopard Rock Hotel received a direct hit from a terrorist mortar attack. This was successful in setting fire to and destroying the hotel’s southernmost wing. The attack had taken place in the early hours of a Sunday morning, and luckily, as it was in the middle of the winter months, few visitors had ventured up into the cold mountain mists of the Vumba. The Osborne-Smiths were away and there were no guests at the hotel at the time of the fire. The assistant manager and his staff were reported to have done an excellent job in managing to contain the fire to the rubble of the southern wing, preventing it from spreading to the heart of the magnificent baronial building. Security personnel had flooded the Vumba by early the following morning. By midday, Mathew received a visit from Jim Prior, accompanied by an RLI major and a BSAP superintendent.

‘As D.O. for the Vumba region, I have to request that you vacate the camp and the Vumba Mountains at the earliest opportunity. Due to the increased number of reports of terrorists at large in the area, this should be within the next twenty-four hours. I’m sorry that I have to do this Mathew, but all the other residents of the Vumba have been told to board up, leave their properties and to go to Umtali by tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Don’t worry, Jim, I know you’re only doing your job. I was already thinking that it was time to move on.’

‘For the time being, Dr Duncan,’ said the major, ‘the security of the Vumba Mountain region of Manicaland is to come under my jurisdiction. It is therefore to be considered a military zone. The Leopard Rock Hotel has been closed down, to be protected by a contingent of the RLI and, in future, only civilians who are granted prior permission directly from myself will be allowed to return to the Vumba, should they wish to check on their properties.’

The mortar attack on the Leopard Rock Hotel effectively made Mathew’s decision for him. He was able to make contact with Miles (as he must now get used to calling him) through a radio connection in the major’s jeep, and gladly accepted his offer of accommodation. ‘As long as everything goes according to plan,’ he told his new host, ‘I should arrive at the estate some time tomorrow afternoon. Would you be kind enough to make contact with Sir Roger Willock and the Vaughan-Joneses on my behalf? I should let them know that I’m moving on.’

Mathew was saddened to have to leave the Vumba Mountains at such short notice. It had proved to be an ideal environment for him to have lived in and been a part of for so many months, as well as having been such a productive place to carry out his primate research. Although, as far as his study groups of monkeys were concerned, he was at least relieved to know that unlike those in West Africa where some tribes hunted monkeys for bushmeat, his precious families of Stairs’ and vervets were safe from human predation. Primates in this region of Africa had never become a delicacy or found their way into the villagers’ ‘stew pot’, so had not suffered the detrimental effects of the unsustainable West African trade in bushmeat.

Later on in the day, while Mathew was in the process of packing up his few belongings in readiness for his departure the following morning, he received a further visit from the BSAP superintendent. After Mathew organised a mug of tea
for them both and they were seated on the two remaining canvas camp chairs, the policeman’s attitude suddenly shifted a gear. He had begun in quite a relaxed manner, going over some of the security measures that had just come into force in the Vumba. Then he became quite aggressive and practically interrogated Mathew about his long-standing friendships with Edgar Chidzikwee and Joshua Dombo, as well about his reputed connection with Chief Chidzikwee. He demanded that Mathew told him as much about his relationships with them as possible.

‘Now, I’ve been told that you recently had quite a lengthy meeting with Edgar Chidzikwee and Joshua Dombo at your camp, and that Edgar had a visible wound on his forehead. As the security forces have received a number of reports about small groups of Africans being seen travelling in this region of the Vumba, especially after dark, I want to know exactly what you were told by your two African friends. I want to know whether you consider either of them was either directly or indirectly connected with the terrorist activities of ZANU/PF, or with ZANLA’s insurgency, or with the conveyance of military equipment from across the border. We know that you recently had talks with Chief Chidzikwee – did he give any clue as to whether he’s sympathetic to the objectives of ZANLA’s freedom fighters?’

Although Mathew was anxious to help the policeman, he objected to the way he was being questioned and was determined to keep the long-standing relationship that he had nurtured with his African friends as confidential as possible. ‘I can assure you that in no way is either Edgar or Joshua involved with those African insurgents currently carrying out terrorist attacks.’ He refrained from telling the superintendent about Edgar’s experience at the hands of the ZANU/PF gang. ‘As far as I’m concerned, I’m as anxious as my two friends are that having just lost their employment, the present political imbroglio between the races is resolved as quickly and as peacefully as possible.’

‘Thank you, Dr Duncan, for giving me your assurance that your friends are not in any way involved with the insurgency. Your cooperation is appreciated.’ Mathew could not help feeling that the policeman was well aware that he had only been provided with a fraction of the information he was seeking, which no doubt his report on this interview would reflect.

Prior to turning in for his last night at Castle Beacon, Mathew took his time to drink the remains of a bottle of Scotch and to dwell on his time in the Vumba. Eventually, he climbed into the folds of his old faithful double-sized hammock under the canopy of a faded and much repaired mosquito-net, both of which he had purchased with Lucienne in Bukavu.

After turning off the paraffin Primus lamp, Mathew spoke aloud against the background of a nocturnal chorus of amphibians and the continuous sonorous singing of a multiplicity of invertebrates, and prayed that a peaceful and satisfactory settlement for both the European and African citizens of Rhodesia could be arrived at as soon as possible. Since he had arrived in the country in 1974, he had witnessed the escalation of the Bush War and was very much aware of the great suffering that had been experienced on both sides of the political divide between Rhodesia’s black and white citizens. He could only hope for a successful future for this priceless gem of what used to be Central Southern Africa’s ‘bread basket’. Rhodesia was a country that he had come to love.

The following morning, Mathew drove his fully loaded Land Rover down from the Vumba. His journey was interrupted on several occasions by security road blocks. On his arrival in Umtali, he stopped briefly at the veterinary pathology laboratory to collect the last results from the faecal samples he had recently sent, and to thank the assistants for having provided him with so much invaluable information. He then
drove to the Umtali Sports Club to have a farewell lunch with Jim Prior. Once he had passed through a police checkpoint at the front gate and entered the club house, he found that the majority of those present were in uniform. It resembled a well-guarded military base rather than a centre for recreation.

During their lunch, Jim updated him on the increased number of terrorist attacks, now coming from different locations across the border. ‘The local Africans have had a complete change of attitude. They’re not willing to pass on information about the movement of unfamiliar people travelling through their villages, which they used to do readily. As some of my European staff are at present serving their obligatory time with the army’s Territorials, all of this has placed untold pressure on the D.O.’s headquarters. I just hope it’s resolved soon.’