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A soldier called Beauty




During the chingamarenga war, also known, by some, as the Rhodesian War, young men and women took up arms to over throw the system that was in place in Rhodesia. Some of them were as young as 12 years old.


I was 18 when I took up arms in defence of not the system, but the lives of the civilians who were caught up in the violence. It was a guerilla war and those kind of wars involve civilians, on both sides. Actually, I was conscripted into "national service" but I was going to join everyone else anyway, as young men have done in all the wars that ever were.


The war was a war and Im not writing this to talk about it. It is long consigned to the memories of those who were there and who are still here.


Thirty odd years later I have met one of the enemy. She still wears a uniform, that of a house keeper, in Zimbabwe her official tile is domestic worker. Her name is Beauty.


She is poor, she tells me, but she will never be a thief. She can tell me this and many other things because we are great friends . She has been employed by my brother's partner, Shirley for 22 years. She cleans and keeps Shirley's house and lives on the property, in her own lodgings at the rear.


We have a good laugh about life, we are both war vets . In those years Robert Mugabe was Comrade Mugabe and everyone else, on their side, was a Comrade too. These days the word is not used unless it is with a sense of irony. Things turned out somewhat differently to the

original script and many former Comrades are a bit disillusioned. So, of course, that's something to have a laugh about. In Africa and possibly in life everywhere you either laugh or cry, often times (as they say in America) it doesnt make any difference to the result but it makes you feel better.


I knew another woman who fought in the war, her name was Miriam. She was a fiery and indepedant woman, with a young child. She worked with us at Zimbabalooba. She created one of the first designs at Zimbabalooba and we still print it today. I never thought to ask her if she had a Chimurenga name. A nomme de guerre. Miriam died of aids many years ago.


Beauty has decided my name should be Comrade Chipungu, a chipungu is an eagle. She is Comrade Beauty.

We salute each other.

 
 
 

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