Someone Wishes to Speak to You (30 page)

It was obvious from the type of direct questions that Major Erasmus was asking Mathew that his main interest was whether he had any information about the movement of African National Congress (ANC) activists from across the border, and whether he had any evidence that ANC activists had joined forces with the ZANLA insurgents. ‘The South African Embassy has known for a number of years that the ANC have been directly involved with the forces of FRELIMO,’ Erasmus explained, ‘but has only recently become aware that some of its more terrorist elements have joined forces with ZANLA. What’s more, from some of the reports that South Africa’s Bureau of State Security (BOSS) have received, it’s evident that ZANLA operatives have been assisting the infiltration of ANC activists from across Rhodesia’s border into the Northern Transvaal.’ Mathew resented the feeling that he was yet again being interrogated, and chose his words extremely carefully.

Sir Roger said how much he was saddened by the un-substantiated reports by the BBC and the
Observer
newspaper that the Rhodesian Army had been responsible for the murder of seven Catholic missionaries at Musami Mission, which had subsequently proved to have had no credibility whatsoever. ‘In all probability, the report was the product of ZANU/PF’s propaganda machine in order to keep the name of the supposedly still-practising Roman Catholic, Robert Mugabe, as snow-white as possible. But mud sticks, it’s a bad mistake to make.’

Once the guests had been reunited in the spacious drawing room, the conversation became less politically dominated. The ebullient Devra Willock was always keen to talk about something less controversial and, for that evening, she had chosen to
discuss one of her favourite subjects; gardening. ‘What do you consider is the best variety of annuals to plant in the garden during the dry season?’ she asked her guests. ‘I’m very much looking forward to October, when the purple mist of the jacaranda trees appears to envelop almost every main street in the city. It’s so beautiful, I would think it’s almost worth a special visit to Salisbury for people who have never seen it.’ Although it seemed a strange contrast to the talk of killing and hatred, Mathew was relieved to be out of the spotlight.

Later on in the evening, when all the guests had departed, Sir Roger apologised to Mathew about what he considered to have been the tactless and undiplomatic questions that Major Erasmus had directed at him. ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if once the South African Embassy knew that you were going to be one of the guests, Erasmus was told to glean as much information as possible, particularly about the cross-border movements of Africans from Mozambique and South Africa.’

‘Don’t apologise, Sir Roger. It’s not your fault. It’s bound to happen, in fact I’m getting quite used to it, although being interrogated is not my idea of enjoyable after-dinner conversation.’ As was always the case when Mathew was queried about his various relationships with the indigenous African population, he had been careful to confine his responses (probably to the frustration of those querying him), to speaking about the friendliness of the tribal people that he had been fortunate enough to meet. He also mentioned how much he enjoyed learning the Manyika dialect, which had enabled him to talk to Africans who couldn’t speak English.

On the Saturday morning, Mathew joined Simon and Anna at the Victoria Museum, where Anna was observing her family group of vervet monkeys. One of them had just given birth to its fourth infant.

‘I’ve just received a very welcome letter from the editor of the
International Journal of Primatology
,’ Anna told Mathew. ‘He expressed an interest that I should submit a paper on my behavioural research work. He particularly wants me to highlight the comparisons in the social behaviour of my captive colony with that of a habituated family group in their natural environment, which – very much thanks to you – I’ve been able to study at Castle Beacon. As you’ve helped me so much, would you be willing to co-author the paper?’

Mathew was only too happy to agree to Anna’s request, as he knew that to be the senior author of a published paper in a well known peer-reviewed journal would represent a significant addition to her list of publications. By the end of the academic year, Anna, as an external graduate of the University of Pretoria, was due to complete the MSc degree examinations that she had been working so hard towards.

‘I’ve just received an invitation from Paddy Bushney to a
braai
at their house this evening,’ Simon told Mathew over a quick lunch at the museum. ‘After I told him that we had our friend, Dr Mathew Duncan, staying for the weekend, he said that we were to bring you along – he said he’s already heard something about the “doctor scientist” from his wife, and would be pleased to meet you, so I’ve accepted the invitation on all of our behalf. I hope that’s all right with you. He said most of the guests will be commissioned and non-commissioned officers from the Selous Scouts and the RLI. They’re just back from a successful raid on a terrorist camp. He’s hosting it for the NCOs, as they wouldn’t be allowed to celebrate in the Officers’ Mess – which does seem rather unfair, after the part they played in the operation.’

Although the raid on a terrorist camp close to the Mozambiquan town of Mapai had greatly raised the morale of all those involved in fighting Rhodesia’s terrorist insurgency, it had drawn widespread international condemnation. The US State Department referred to it as a ploy to draw Cuban
troops across the border into Zambia from Zaire, in order to create the suggestion that they might become directly involved in Rhodesia’s Bush War. The raid also led Jimmy Carter to warn white Rhodesians not to expect to be rescued by American troops, and for the British Foreign Secretary, David Owen, to ask Parliament to send British troops to Rhodesia to overthrow the Smith regime. This was, of course, a strategy that the government was reluctant to adopt. The Rhodesian Government’s response to such international criticism was to issue a statement that the country’s security forces’ only intention had been to protect its citizens, both black and white, from the ongoing terrorist activities of ZANLA.

When the time came for them to walk to the Bushneys’ home, Mathew felt very apprehensive about meeting the husband of the woman he had fallen so much in love with. He was nervous about seeing Jan in such a military environment, for whenever he reflected on their first meeting, and how instantly besotted he had become, he had in his mind an almost unimpeachable image of her. Whereas Winston Churchill was purported to have once suggested love to be the most important force in the world, Mathew found that such strong feelings had an unsettling effect on him, rather than anything pleasurable.

When they arrived, there were over forty people gathered on the lawn in front of the spacious veranda. The carcass of a bush pig slowly turned on a spit, above the intense heat of the embers on a sizeable barbecue. The majority of the guests were men and in typical Rhodesian fashion, they were congregated in close proximity to a long table from which the drinks were being served, swigging their beer from bottles. The women were dotted about in small groups across the lawn, some distance away from their respective partners.

Simon introduced Mathew to Major Paddy Bushney, who
took his hand in a grip so firm it was as if he wanted to crush every finger within its grasp. ‘Welcome to our home, Mathew. I’m very pleased to meet you. My wife has already told me what an interesting person you are.’

‘Thank you, Major Bushney,’ said Mathew, doing his best not to flinch. ‘It’s very kind of you to ask me along.’

Bushney said that he had laughed when Jan had told him, in her rather Afrikaans accent, that prior to coming to Rhodesia he had studied guerillas, and not gorillas, in Zaire.

‘I sincerely hope you’ve been able to avoid becoming mixed up in the Rhodesia’s internal politics,’ said Bushney, ‘or anything to do with the Bush War. These are troubled times.’ (He had been informed by the Special Security Branch of the Selous Scouts that Mathew was a liberal-thinking friend of the UK’s Senior Representative in Salisbury.)

‘It’s always been my policy to keep well away from internal differences of opinion and conflict in a country that’s been agreeable enough to grant me permission to continue with my academic studies. I try to keep up with what’s going on, but I never get involved.’

With a smile, Bushney summoned an African civilian batman to bring some drinks over to them.

‘Well, I hope you all enjoy the party.’ He added, as somewhat of a passing shot, ‘I find it most regrettable that after having served with many delightful British servicemen in the Malayan Emergency – at the time I always referred to Great Britain as Rhodesia’s “mother country” – these loyal subjects have now been tragically deserted.’

The first sight that Mathew had of Jan was as she was speaking to a small group of women close to the veranda. It was some twenty minutes before she approached Mathew and the Vaughan-Joneses. After embracing Simon and Anna, she rather shyly touched his cheeks gently with her lips, and said how pleased she was that he had been able to come to her husband’s celebratory party. Mathew was alarmed to see
how dejected Jan seemed, and distressed that she left their company almost as quickly as she had arrived, which he only hoped she was reluctant to do. Playing the role of hostess, she moved on to speak to a small group of women who had been abandoned by their macho partners. The men remained gathered around the drinks table, no doubt boasting about their recent accomplishments.

During the course of the evening, Mathew found himself feeling increasingly uncomfortable in conversation with some of Bushney’s military colleagues. For, as more Castle lager was consumed, the group of officers and NCOs he was talking to started to boast about how many terrorists they had personally managed to account for during the Nyadzonya/Pungwe and Mapai anti-terrorist raids. The conversations reminded Mathew of those that would follow a successful grouse shoot after the Glorious Twelfth, with the guns boasting amongst themselves about how many birds they had managed to bag.

However, it was obvious to Mathew how much Paddy Bushney was respected by both European and African members of the military. He had an unorthodox and fearless leadership style; he always led by example by frequently placing himself in the most dangerous of situations when leading a counter-insurgency raid on ZANLA’s terrorist operatives. Mathew had assumed that Bushney would be racist in his attitude toward Africans, but was interested to learn from his colleagues how he fully supported Colonel Reid-Daly’s concept of introducing and promoting black special force personnel to the rank of a commissioned officer. As a result of this policy, the Selous Scouts could claim that nowhere in the armed forces was integration quite so comprehensive as it was within its ranks.

It was a conversation between a 2nd Lieutenant and a couple of NCOs that particularly concerned Mathew, for it highlighted the degree of hatred that so many of the military had toward ZANLA and its associate activists in ZANU/PF
and ZIPRA. ‘I’d be only too happy to assassinate Robert Mugabe,’ said the lieutenant. ‘As far as I’m concerned, Mugabe and his terrorist thugs have already demonstrated the various degrees of ruthlessness and savagery that they’re prepared to sink to in their attempt to overthrow the Smith regime and become the country’s next elected government. As far as I’m concerned, this attempt has to be stopped by any means currently available to the country’s security forces.’

Simon, Anna and Mathew enjoyed generous portions of roasted bush pig, along with all the trimmings, washed down by some agreeable South African red burgundy from the Alphen vineyards in Constantia. Just after 11 p.m. they decided that the time had come for them to leave the party. While crossing the lawn to say goodbye to their hosts, they saw some of the fun-loving guests starting to play one of their favourite party games, known as ‘Pass the Bottle’.

This involved men and women forming a tight circle and passing a beer bottle to one another by wedging it between their knees, until one of them allowed the bottle to fall, after which they had to leave the circle. It was customary for the winner of the contest to be presented with the beer bottle as a trophy and for its label to be dutifully signed by all of the contestants, which would frequently include some very ribald and thought-provokingly intimate comments.

Soon after a number of the more riotous guests had started to sing loudly, in true rugby club fashion, some of their favourite songs such as ‘Comrade in Arms’, ‘Hold Him Down, You Zulu Warrior’ and Clem Tholet’s ‘We Are All Rhodesians’, some of the Rhodesian-born soldiers changed the words in the chorus of the traditional Afrikaans folk song, ‘Sarie Marais’ from: ‘Oh take me back to the old Transvaal to my sweetheart Sarie Marais’ to ‘There’s twenty thousand bastards in the old Transvaal thanks to the efforts of Sarie Marais’. As soon as they started to repeat their version of the chorus, a small fight broke out in the corner of the garden between a few
inebriated South African-born NCOs with their Rhodesian-born counterparts. A thunderous command in Afrikaans, issued from the steps of the veranda by Paddy Bushney, restored immediate order to the party, but had such a stifling effect on the possibility of any further merriment that it signalled an end to the evening’s festivities.

Bushney was quick to retire into his house with some of his closest Selous Scouts regimental friends and to leave his henchmen to bid farewell to those that had started to dwindle away from the floodlit lawn. Just as the Vaughan-Joneses and Mathew reached the drive, Jan suddenly joined them from out of the shadows, this time looking far more relaxed than she had done earlier in the evening.

‘I’m so sorry for the way they behaved towards the end,’ she said. ‘That’s what usually happens I’m afraid, when you get a large group of the military at a party together.’

Although Jan’s deep-blue eyes no longer had the star-like sparkle to them that Mathew clearly recalled from their first meeting in the grounds of the museum, and her face did not portray that most attractive and beseeching of smiles, he still considered her to be the most desirable person he could ever meet.