“Mum, how come when Rhodesia asked for independence from Britain, we were told no but places like Zambia and Malawi did?” or The history of Rhodesia, Rhodesian style…

“Mum, how come when Rhodesia asked for independence from Britain, we were told no but places like Zambia and Malawi did?” or The history of Rhodesia, Rhodesian style…

And so in early 1973, the future Gokwe Kid sat down miserably for another torturous breakfast. It was school holidays. He was 14 going on 15 and was now a pupil at the co-ed Mount Pleasant High School, Salisbury. Having been removed from Allan Wilson Technical School due to ‘poor performance’ by his father, the Headmaster, Geoff Lambert, had kindly placed the lunatic in 3b1 instead of where he should have belonged – mainly in the ‘Special’ class.

He liked his new school. He had chinas from the Boy Scouts days in his class, those days before his father had removed him - blaming the Scouts for ‘poor performance’ at school. There were also nice girls in the class. They tended to be a bit more tolerant of his verbal diarrhoea of unashamed utter bullshit. Also, only the headmaster and deputy heads were allowed to cane the boys, which was a relief because the Kid had been beaten almost everyday at Allan Wilson.

Mount Pleasant High was in the northern suburbs, a so called ‘affluent’ area and had grown at a huge rate, so by the time the Kid was enrolled there were over 1100 pupils spread over six forms. The classes all numbered under 30 pupils. By the time a child entered the third year of higher education, his/her path to O’levels and beyond had been determined. There were three ‘A’ streams. These kids were the crème de la crème, not just Rhodesia’s elite, but in the world –

INTELLIGENCE: THE MENSA JOURNAL No. 97, MARCH 1967, p. 1.

The Intelligence of White Rhodesians
BY NATHANIEL WEYL

For the past five years, all Standard Two European, Coloured and Asiatic students in the Salisbury District of Rhodesia (which contains over 50 per cent of the white population) have been given South African group intelligence tests. Those scoring 130+ have then been tested individually, using the latest international standardization of the Terman-Merrill test.*

About 95 per cent of those scoring 130+ on the group test did so on the individual test. The Terman-Merrill tests revealed that about 7 per cent of the white children in the government schools of the Salisbury district had IQs of 130 or better. This compares with about 2.5 per cent in that range in the U.K. and the U.S. and about 3 per cent in New Zealand. Group testing of pupils in privately operated schools indicated that their inclusion would not have lowered the percentage of gifted children.

Elite

Thus, white Rhodesians are an elite element within the English-speaking world in terms of psychometric intelligence. This finding is reinforced by visual impressions. Salisbury whites appear larger, healthier, more vigorous, alert and bright than London whites. Beatniks, transvestites and obvious homosexuals are conspicuously absent.

Among the reasons offered for the intellectual superiority of white Rhodesian children were:

(1). The Group Test is a much better instrument than the subjective opinions of teachers for winnowing out gifted children from the mass.

(2) Rhodesian policy is to exclude immigrants who lack jobs, thus minimising the influx of unskilled, uneducated and incompetent elements.

(3). Since the white minority must provide managerial, scientific, professional and intellectual leadership for the Africans as well as the Europeans, the demand for elite elements is enormous. Rhodesian officials estimate that 15 per cent of their white population consists of professionals and highly skilled technicians as against 10 per cent in the case of white South Africans and only 6 per cent in the case of the British. (The tests showed that the Coloured and Asiatic children made quantitatively insignificant contributions to the 130+ IQ group.)

(4). Immigration to developing frontier countries is probably positively selective for self-reliance and intelligence.

Of the 800 or so white Rhodesian children who scored 130 or better, no less than twelve were shown to have Iqs in the 180+ range. This again is a multiplier of the normal IQ distribution.

‘A’ streamers would be fast tracked in two years through their O’level curriculums. They could take as many as they liked and tended to hang around in their own clique, but some ‘B’ streamers, especially boys of sporting abilities were acceptable. ‘B’ streamers were a weird hotchpotch. There were two. B1 and B2 but only divided to maintain low numbers in class. They would take three years to complete a minimum of five O’levels. They were given some options. English, French/Afrikaans and Maths a must. All boring. Geography also a must. The Kid loved this subject; especially as his teacher had the biggest mazams he had ever had the pleasure of looking at, stuffed into a tight, sleeveless top.

Then you could choose two from the following – Accounts, Biology, Physics and Chemistry, Domestic Cooking and History. The Kid loved history and biology told you about sex so that was that. There was a problem though. His biology teacher was called Mrs Virgo, and although a nice old dear, was rather old fashioned and learning about reproduction from her tended to put you off the idea. Here was a problem. The ‘A’ streamers were taught by the best teachers. ‘B’ streamers were taught by the less gifted, such as the maths teacher who didn’t even have a degree.

‘C’ streams were for the idiots. Quite a lot of them actually, C1,2 and 3, but not all were totally brain dead. Some suffered from learning disabilities that are recognised now, but in those days were just bundled under ‘thick and naughty’ and had what little sense they had constantly beaten out of them in the vague hope of getting some into them. One of these went on to become world famous – Bruce Grobbelaar.

But it is HISTORY that interested the Kid that fateful morning as he watched with growing alarm as the ponging mess called Pronutro – Banana flavour, slowly coagulated into the soya bean mash it was made of. The Kid neither liked nor disliked his petite, blonde and rather strict step-mother Katherine. It was all just c'est la vie for him. No hugs and stuff in this family, just a smack across the head from father if he returned a barb with one of his own. And then the Kid did a classic – opened his mouth before engaging brain

            “Mum, how come when Rhodesia asked for independence from Britain, we were told no but places like Zambia and Malawi did?”

            Step-Mum pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. The Kid knew the look and thought he shouldn’t have hit the enter button before going carefully over the content.

            Katherine stood up and returned shortly with a large, brand new text book and placed it before the panicked eyes of the future winner of ‘Rhodesia Has No Talent’. The book is titled Longman Secondry Histories. The Modern World since 1900. It is a 1973 revised edtion published by Longman Rhodesia (Pvt) Ltd, Southerton, Rhodesia.

            “Ignore the first two thirds; they cover much of what your O’level history curriculum of Europe since the 19 hundreds. I want you to read the section ‘Africa South of the Sahara 1900-1972.’ I want you to pay particular attention to the Chapter 28 and read the questions at the end and write the answers. You will dedicate two hours each morning of the holidays to the task. At the end you will know the answer. Do I make myself understood?”

             The Kid felt sick as a proverbial pig. A simple question received a rather complicated answer – one to totally mess up his plans of just dossing about for four weeks.

            “What is this book?” the Kid babbled in panic.

            “The Rhodesian Government has recognised that not all whites are bright sparks. They have realised that O’level may be just out the reach of some of them. They have introduced a new certificate. It is called the Rhodesian General Certificate of Education, RGCE. They pass, they may go onto O’levels. If they fail O’ levels, at least they may have something to show a future employee.”

This was all doing the Kid’s head in. He thought of maybe taking a mouthful of Pronutro and fall on the floor, spasmodically twitch a bit while spitting gunky soya gunge out his mouth. No chance of that – wicked step-mother was well tuned to his stunts.

            “But, but, I know all about Rhodesian history, like at Blakistan Junior School we learnt about the Mazoe Patrol, and, and at Allan Wilson, they even have bits of them in cabinet!”

            “So you know everything do you? Pray, open to page 289 and answer the following.”

            The Kid does as he is told and with horror realizes he is well up the creek -

Southern Rhodesia

a) For what reasons did Britain establish control over Southern  Rhodesia?

b) How was the country governed from 1898 to 1923?

c) How did the European settlers gain power? _ .

d) ln what ways did the economy of Southern Rhodesia develop in this period?

e) Why did the settlers demand a change of government after the First World War? What kind of government did they want?

f) Describe the constitution set up in 1923.

g) Name three Prime Ministers who held office between 1923 and 1953.

h) What was the Land Apportionment Act and why was it passed?

i) How did Southern Rhodesia's economy develop up to the Second World War? .

j) What part did Southern Rhodesia play in the Second World War and how was the country affected by the war?

            “Er, this is for the idiots, clever kids don’t need to know things like this. We learn about English kings and stuff, and world wars and nasty Nazis, much more interesting.”

            Katherine ignores this ignorant comment and turns the pages to the questions on page 341 -

Events in Southern Rhodesia

a) Name the two Prime Ministers of Southern Rhodesia 1953-1962.

b) (i) Who were the African nationalist leaders and what did they

want?

(ii) Why were the nationalist parties banned?

c) What did Africans gain by the constitution of 1961 ?

d) What new party gained power in 1962? Who was the Prime

Minister? What was the attitude of the new government to the

Federation?

e) Why did Southern Rhodesia fail to gain full independence from

the British Government?

f) What does 'U.D.l.’ mean? When did Rhodesia declare U.D.l.?

g) How did the British Government and the United Nations try to

overthrow the Rhodesian Government? Why did these measures

fail?

h) Where and when were unsuccessful attempts made to reach

settlements after U.D.l.?

i) When did Rhodesia become a Republic? Who was Prime Minister

and who was President?

            “Can you answer these? You will after you study. You may start now. I will be monitoring you.”

- - -

Woosh, it is 2012, The Gokwe Kid rolls another cheeky fag and gazes out the window. The book is there, looking rather dragged about, but he has it. Perhaps the only one in existence now. It is so clear, almost prophetic in clarity. The history of Rhodesia, uncomplicated, simple and yet for all its brilliance was restricted to ‘C’ streamers. Crazy… He scans pages, does some OCR and messes about with the parts he needs. He wonders why we, the white Rhodesians never clicked. For all our ‘fine’ education, we just didn’t get it. Nor did the author in the end. But if we had looked…it was all there, but study HISTORY and African history at that…eish, what the hell for? It is not like we will lose anything…or

- - -

The future winner of the Rhodesian X-factor conceded defeat, staggered to his room and moaned for ten minutes about his own stupid gob…and he read and read. The prose was so…basic that even an idiot could understand it –

Southern Rhodesia

Cecil Rhodes was a wealthy man with driving ambition. During the Scramble for Africa, he wished to extend British power to the region between the Limpopo and the Zambezi Rivers and so prevent the Boers of South Africa or the Portuguese of l\/Mozambique acquiring the area. Gold had been found and it was hoped that the region would prove as rich as the South African Rand.

ln 1885, he persuaded the British Government to establish a Protectorate over Bechuanaland thus securing the route from the Cape to the land beyond the Limpopo. In 1888, his agent, Rudd, obtained a Concession from Lobengula, the king of the dominant

Matatabele tribe. This gave Rhodes permission to look for minerals in Mashonaland, an area to the north of Matebeleland, in which Lobengula sent his warriors to raid.         

In the following year, Rhodes obtained a Royal Charter which set up his British South Africa Company. The Company was given permission to govern Mashonaland and to make land grants. In 1890, the first group of Europeans entered Mashonaland as settlers, establishing forts along their way. Their journey ended at Fort Salisbury, named after the British Prime Minister of the time. After that, the pioneers dispersed to farm and look for minerals. Soon  afterwards, an Eastern border to the Company's territory was established after a dispute with the Portuguese.

            Lobengula and his chiefs were unhappy with the extent of British penetration and the restrictions which had been placed on their raids into Mashonaland. Attacks on the Mashona caused a war with the European settlers in 1893. Although the British suffered a serious disaster when a patrol led by Major Allan Wilson was wiped out by the Matabele, European weapons soon proved effective. The Matabele were subdued and Lobengula died soon afterwards.

In 1896, first the Matabele, then the Mashona, rebelled against the British South Africa Company. The Matabele were subdued and in a series of indabas or discussions in the Matapos hills, Rhodes himself met the chiefs and persuaded them to accept the Company's

authority. Finally, the Mashona rebellion was also brought under control. The name 'Rhodesia' was used for the first time in 1895.

Government by the Chartered Company 1893-1923

The British South Africa Company, often known as the Chartered Company continued to rule Southern Rhodesia until 1923. At the head of the government was an Administrator. Efficient government was introduced by two men in particular: Sir William Milton, the Administrator from 1898 to 1914, reorganised the Civil Service, and Sir Drummond Chaplin, his successor, continued his work.

ln 1898, the British Government gave Southern Rhodesia a new constitution. The normal Executive and Legislative Councils were set up and from the beginning the settlers elected members to the Legislative Council. By 1907, their representatives were in a majority.

Meanwhile the country developed economically. Railways were constructed from Beira and the Cape. Gold was found in quantities, but coal, chrome and asbestos became more valuable to the economy. European agriculture also developed and after the First World War, tobacco became an important export.

Responsible Government

At first the Company and the settlers got on well together but by the First World War, a quarrel had developed between them. The settlers believed that the Company paid too much attention to its shareholders in England and that it should spend more on such things as schools and hospitals. They also resented the tax on gold miners and the granting of land to speculators. In its turn, the Company found that it was not making a profit and wanted to give up the responsibility of governing the country.

The war brought a lull in the argument, as approximately 25 per cent of the European population took part in campaigns in German South West Africa and East Africa, as well as overseas. However, an  association was founded during the war to work for Responsible

Government for Southern Rhodesia. As we have seen, in this type of government, the Prime Minister and his Cabinet are chosen from the chief party in the elected Legislative Council. As the settlers already had a majority of representatives in the Council, this would give them

control of the government.

After a General Election in 1920, twelve out of thirteen elected members on the Legislative Council supported the Responsible Government Association led by Charles Coglhan. The British Government then appointed a Commission to investigate the governments of both Northern and Southern Rhodesia. For Southern Rhodesia, they recommended Responsible Government if a majority of voters approved in a referendum. As some people  favoured union with South Africa, the voters were offered a choice, but the majority voted for Responsible Government. The new constitution came into force in 1923. Southern Rhodesia became a British colony with a Government representing the king. The Government was to be chosen from the Legislative Assembly which was elected by those who could read and write and had an income of £1OO per annum. The colony was to be practically self-governing in internal matters, but the British kept control of Foreign Policy.

The Kid sighs deeply. What the hell must he learn this shit for? It wasn’t like he was going to have to fight for the nonsense - little did he know…  A couple of chinas turn up and bang on the kid’s bedroom window. They want him to come out and play. Swim and do ‘Marco-Polo’ in the pool glistening so invitingly just on the right of his line of sight. Katherine hears the knocks too and dismisses them until 10 o’clock, as he must study. He hates her…

Southern Rhodesia 1923-45

Southern Rhodesia developed smoothly under Charles Coglhan who was Prime Minister from 1923 until his death in 1927. He was followed by Howard Unwin Moffat who began to experience difficulties. ln the early 1930s when the Great Depression caused unemployment

and hardship and many people left the country. Economic difficulties brought Moffat's downfall and in 1933, Godfrey Huggins became Prime Minister. He had come to the country as a young doctor and stayed on. He was a popular personality and actually remained Prime Minister of Southern Rhodesia until 1953, and then of the Federation until 1956, the longest 'reign' in the British Commonwealth.

As in Kenya, a land problem developed especially as the African population gradually increased with the end of tribal warfare and the introduction of better living conditions. ln an attempt to solve the problem, Moffat's Government passed the Land Apportionment

Act of 1931. This separated the lands of the two main races who were not allowed to buy land in each other's areas. This was intended to prevent exploitation of the African by speculators and also to encourage white immigrants to bring their capital and skill to develop the European areas. However, it caused bitterness amongst Africans who resented the amount of land allocated to European use.

After the set-back of the Depression, economic development continued. Tobacco became Southern Rhodesia's biggest export. New minerals were discovered, strip roads were laid and industries began to grow up in the towns. Economic development caused a social problem. Many Africans left their villages to work on the European farms and in the mines and

towns. Their wages helped to buy the consumer goods that were now available. However, the system had some bad side effects. The Europeans regarded the Africans as only temporary residents in their areas. Most of them left their wives and children at home and so families were split, and this caused a decline in traditional African values. Many workers did indeed return to their villages after saving enough money for what they wanted, but others became

de-triba|ised and did not wish to return, yet they had no permanent home in the town. This problem became worse after the Second World War. African agriculture also deteriorated as too much was left to the women who were conservative in outlook and resisted

new methods. 

Yawn, what does the Kid care? The only ‘real’ contact he had with black people was Julia the maid and David the garden-boy. Not exactly the future…He plods on through the chapter.

 Southern Rhodesia played an important part in the Second World War considering her size. Several camps were set up to train Air Force personnel, while about 10,000 troops of all races served in the British Army in such areas as North Africa, Italy, the Middle and Far East. Many of the Africans who had served abroad came back with new ideas and afterwards began to demand more opportunities for advancement. ln addition, the war caused an economic boom as the demand for agricultural produce and minerals increased. Factories to manufacture consumer goods also grew up as it became difficult to import them from Britain. 

The days go by, and the Kid attempts to absorb the short history of his country. He skips a bit…

Soon after the break up of the Central African Federation in 1963, Malawi (Nyasaland) and Zambia (Northern Rhodesia) achieved independence. Southern Rhodesia, originally the most advanced of the three territories, had still not gained full independence, though, in practice, Britain had very little control over her affairs.

During the Federal period up to 1962, Southern Rhodesia had two Prime Ministers, Garfield Todd and Sir Edgar Whitehead, who had passed laws to advance Africans. However. African nationalists led by Joshua Nkomo and Ndabaningi Sithole were not satisfied with the rate of progress. They did not oppose the Federation in the same way as the nationalists in the Northern Protectorates, but wanted 'one man, one vote', and African control of the Southern Rhodesia Government. Their violence led to the banning of the nationalist parties, the restriction of the leaders and a State of Emergency in 1959.

However, a new constitution was introduced in 1961 and approved in a referendum by the Rhodesian electorate. This gave more Africans the vote according to their education and property. African nationalists were not satisfied. Renewed violence and intimidation led to the banning of Nkomo's Zimbabwe African Peoples Union (ZAPU.),and the renewed detention of the nationalist leaders. The majority of Europeans were worried by this violence and in the elections of  1962 (which the African voters boycotted to show their dislike of the

constitution) they ousted Sir Edgar Whitehead and voted in the newly formed Rhodesian Front Party, (RF).

The new Prime Minister, Winston Field, asked for independence for Southern Rhodesia but this was refused by the British Government who wanted a constitution more favourable to the African nationalists. Fie|d's failure to gain independence resulted in his replacement by Ian Smith in 1964. Long negotiations between Smith and the British Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, achieved nothing. The British laid down Six Principles for a settlement, the first of which stated there must be unimpeded progress towards majority rule'. This was unacceptable to the Europeans of Southern Rhodesia who did not want to hand political power to inexperienced Africans.

Because of the failure to achieve independence by negotiation, the Rhodesian Government made a Unilateral (onesided) Declaration of Independence on 11 November 1965. The British Government said this was illegal and imposed sanctions or trading restrictions on the country. This failed to subdue Rhodesia  and in December 1966, Smith and Wilson met once more, aboard  H.M.S. Tiger in the Mediterranean. It seemed as if a settlement had been reached but the agreement broke down because the British proposals for an interim government until final arrangements had been made were not satisfactory to the Rhodesians.

After that, Prime Minister Wilson appealed to the U.N. to impose mandatory (compulsory) sanctions against Rhodesia. This was done, but because it was impossible to block all access to Rhodesia, sanctions did not bring the country's downfall. In fact, because of the difficulty of importing goods, secondary industry expanded and boom conditions followed. The main result of sanctions was to place the European electorate more firmly than before behind Smith and the Rhodesian Front Government. In 1968, further negotiations between Smith and Wilson on board HMS Fearless also broke down and in 1970, still unrecognised by the rest of the world, Rhodesia became a Republic, with Smith as Prime Minister and Clifford Dupont as President.

ln 1971 negotiations were reopened with the British Government. ln November, Ian Smith and Sir Alec Douglas Home signed an agreement by which Rhodesian Indepen-

dence would be recognised by Britain. A new constitution was to be introduced giving Africans a gradually increasing number of seats in the Assembly, while racial discrimination was to be reduced. However, in accordance with one of the Six Principles, the British wished

to test public opinion to see if it favoured the proposed settlement.

A Commission led by Lord Pearce was sent to Rhodesia and in May 1972 reported its findings: while most Europeans, Coloureds and Asians were in favour, the Africans rejected the proposals in over whelming numbers. The Rhodesian Government claimed that this was caused by intimidation, but the verdict meant that the settlement was not put into force.

The Kid hands in his answers. What a waste of time! He has learnt nothing really and doesn’t give a toss…

- - -

Woosh, 2012, a late evening. The Gokwe Kid is tired, but absolutely fascinated. Shame the story ends in 1972. Eish, a few years later all shit breaks out! He rolls yet again another cheeky and decides he is an alcoholic. He ruffles through a few more pages. He finds some stuff and starts to think the author of this text book was lucky not to be shot – by either side-

- - -

Criticism of colonialism

The colonial period in Africa's history was really very short, less than a hundred years, but it brought important changes. African nationalists are quick to point out the bad side of colonialism, for example the exploitation of their raw materials and minerals and the use made of cheap or even forced labour. Many educated Africans resented the

condescending attitude of Europeans.

On the other hand, without colonialism, there would have been no

nationalism. It was the European powers which drew the boundaries of modern African nations. ln addition, the Europeans brought many social and economic benefits: Britain in particular spent more money in the later years of her rule than she ever took out of her colonies.

Communications were developed, crops introduced, minerals discovered and mined. Missions, hospitals, schools and clinics were established. The modern African nationalist was himself produced by these European influences, not by the tribal past of pre-colonial

Africa which he usually rejected.

The problems of independence

Many Africans expected too much of independence. lt did not automatically solve old problems and, in fact, it created some new ones. The most serious of these was a lack of unity within the state. During the struggle for freedom, most Africans had been united against the colonial Government, their common enemy. Once this was removed, tribal and regional feuds revived and caused political conflict and even bloodshed as in the Nigerian Civil War from 1966 to 1970.

Because of the need to achieve unity, most African countries soon became one party states. The political group which had gained independence ran the government and banned all other political organisations. The former French colonies were the first to do this but some ex-British states soon followed suit. These states had been left with parliaments like those of Paris or West-minster but these did not suit the African personality. To the new leaders, the Western European system of allowing and even paying critics to oppose the government seemed extremely foolish especially as they had few experienced politicians. As Nyerere of Tanzania said, “There can be no room for difference or division.”

The politicians claimed that the one party system was a more African way of doing lthings than democracy. ln the tribal past, the elders used to meet under an indaba tree and discuss difficulties until they were solved, not divide into groups to oppose each other. Along with one party states, African Socialism developed. In general, this meant that the government controlled most aspects of life in the country. Once opposition was banned, the Prime Minister often became the President as well. Parliament became unimportant and the government began strict supervision of civil servants, police and the law courts. ln a democracy, these are regarded as neutral in political matters, but many African governments staffed them with loyal party men.

The people of the African states became in general far less free than under colonial rule. In many states, critics of the government could be arrested, restricted, gaoled or even executed, either without trial or after proceedings in which all the judges were party men and in which they were allowed no defence. The most extreme example of this, occurred in Guinea in January 1971, when over fifty people were executed in public for their part in an alleged invasion of the country.

It was not always easy to find sufficient educated men to staff government departments and so incompetence often hindered the work. Added to this was corruption, as many officials used their positions of power to take bribes and so line their own pockets at the expense of the government. This was very difficult to eradicate especially in West Africa where the system of ‘dash' or bribery had been a way of life since the old slave trading days.  

As there was no legal way of changing the government, critics had to resort to violence. Often in the new African states, the army was the only group with the necessary strength to overthrow the political leaders. As popular discontent increased, the generals ousted the politicians. General Mobuto of the Congo was the first of the military rulers. Then, when Ghana’s  President Nkrumah was absent from the country in 1966, he was deposed by the army, which set a new fashion in military coups.

These became common place, the most recent to date being the deposition of Milton Obote of Uganda in January 1971. African states ,are, in general, very poor. They need schools, hospitals and clinics. They need to develop agriculture, industry and communications. They need mines, dams` and power stations. However, they lack the technicians who are needed to develop these projects and because the people are poor, they cannot raise the money to pay for them in taxation. Such money as is available is often wasted on prestige projects such as monuments and Presidential palaces which do not benefit the people at all. To make matters worse, the population is expanding at such a rate that a  LITTLE development is useless: ENORMOUS improvements are necessary FAST.

Foreign Aid could help to solve economic problems but often the country which gives it expects support in return. Both Russian and Chinese Communists have sent aid, for example to Guinea and Tanzania, in the hope of securing a foothold in Africa. On the other hand, Western European countries and the U.S.A. are accused of neo-colonialism, when they ask for support in return for their assistance. Thus, Africa could become a scene of rivalry in the   Cold War, though most African states claim to be neutral. ln fact, they have tried to make themselves part of the 'Third World', of the non-aligned powers. As most Asian and African states had gained independence by 1970, they were in fact in a majority in the United Nations where they had great influence.

- - -

Woosh – 2012, North Wales. The Gokwe Kid runs to the toilets and vomits. This cannot be. It is almost four decades since he read that stuff, and yet it is real as today. This is all too much, why was this restricted to the idiots? Would it have made a difference if it was taught to the bright sparks? Who knows, because a short time later – WAR and 50.000, give or take a few, will die…for what?

The Kid is knackered, but he has one more page to scan. The signed page of this history book. He recalls meeting the co-author and had demanded that book for his collection. It was not signed. In fact, it was just a test copy with a few, corrections jotted in. He insisted on a signature.

            “I haven’t signed using this name for a very long time,” the co-author said to the Kid.

            “Do it, just go for it,” the Kid replied.

And so he got his way. He knew a bit about the author. A strict Roman-Catholic (besides bending the rules now and then), born and raised in a working class two up and down terraced house in some backwater in Leeds, United Kingdom. The father was a steam train driver, the mother a house wife, but with frugality they sent their only chid to university. A personality that was not very creative - but very determined. Though marriage the author landed up in Nyasaland, teaching black children. Divorce and migration saw the writer teach at Hatfield Girls High, Oriel Girls High, Species College and be an archive secretary to Sir Roy Welaensky, in Salisbury, Rhodesia. Later - became the Head of History at Mount Pleasant High and in protest after 1980, when the ruling party insisted on changing history, became Head of History at the prestigious, privately funded St Georges High School. A position held for well after the use by date.

The Kid pushes a book page for maybe the last time into the scanner. It is the page with the signature…

 

The Gokwe Kid – Prologue or Pre-madness?

Early 2012. Storms are lashing the west coast of North Wales. The Gokwe Kid, now in his early fifties, sighs dramatically as he puffs on a cheeky cigarette and blows the smoke out off the partially open balcony door. No smoking allowed in the tiny flat he habituates. Like some fool on a hill, high as a kite and drunk as a lord, he is none of these  - for they are appalling metaphors. He is worse and stuck half way up the side of a mountain.

He sups on beer, thinking, pondering - his mind confused but yet…almost visionary of the imminent fame and accolade he has desired ever since he once woke up inspired one morning and we realised one of us was a schizophrenic. It wasn’t that hard to create a Shilo, the imaginary friend of Neil Diamond fame. The Gokwe Kid called his cerebral best china, PO Greenberg. He was a policeman, a so called Patrol Officer in some part of deepest, blackest, bad-ass Africa and was rather useless. He was always in trouble. But in his own way he was funny bugger, stuck in the late 1970s, totally ignorant of the rest of the world outside his immediate senses.

           

The greatest detective ever to stride the continent famed for famine, handouts, food aid, AIDS and Kalashnikovs, wandered into the kitchen and solved yet another mystery in seconds. The fridge lacked beer. The Kid sighed. It meant he would have to persuade the stupid ex policeman to go down the hill and stock up a bit. He hated this confrontation. PO Greenberg was rather lazy sometimes and moaned terribly when sent out in raging storms to keep the Kid happy and fit to finish writing his memoir. Still, for all the drama queen antics, he went anyway.

The Dick of Bushveld was at a turning point. His book is almost, almost complete. His editor seems to be on strike, his promised cartoonist can’t be bothered and he might have managed to hack off loads of people with strange Emails and Facebook postings. Otherwise he is rather pleased with the progress. One little, teeny, weeny problem is how to do a prologue. In other words - sort of get a background as to what made us mad. Not us-us, but white people going to Africa, especially a place that was called for a minuscule of time - RHODESIA.

Tripping over another pile of memoirs relating from a time long gone and memory fainted reproduced spluttering of THAT short period; when the myth of the invincible crusaders of Livingstone’s three Cs – Cunning, Conquest and Capitalism fought with the reality  of the true African  version – Conning, Cruelty and Capitalising, the Gokwe Kid struggled to think of a new approach.

            We mean, like, there is plenty out there in cyber space. Rhodesia is more connected than they ever were in ‘the good old days’. Old enemies are now friends, ignorant bigots get tut-tutted on Facebook by those that are smart enough to know a bit more. And they write, oh how they write. Lament, lament a time that the ignorant world can PC correct pick and poke at - but one thing no one can deny the white Rhodesians – we had the best steak, egg and chips. Steak when we had it all, Egg on our faces as it went tits up, and we got our chips. But, in a way, we had the last laugh.

            And yet we do not laugh. We cry for the beloved country and so we write and write and hope people will understand and if not…fuck ‘em, it was a hella of a ride!

Then the Kid remembered a book. A special and very rare book. It was signed by one of the co-authors. There, in there - was the prologue, the beginning he needed…

(To be maybe continued…)

Sixpence and the Great White Bwana

Yo all. Happy New Year and all that bollocks. I am still alive and kicking up a right ruckus. Forget Year of the Dragon  – this is the year of the Gokwe Kid. More about that later, but meanwhile, many people wonder how I became so disturbed? It is, sadly, a long story but below is part of it. When I write the prequel (should I still be alive by then) what you read now is a disturbing insight into the mind of a highly unbalanced individual. This is all true.

Sixpence and the Great White Bwana

In 1971, Sixpence and the Great White Bwana are members of 8^th Mount Pleasant, (Salisbury), Boy Scout Troop and are at Coronation Park for the boy scout cooking competition. Both are aged 13 going 14. Bwana is ‘A’ stream at school. Sixpence cannot swim…

* * *

 

Sixpence sat on one of the many boxes that he had just unloaded and sticking a finger in one nostril, he thought that maybe it was a bad plan to have volunteered to be the Great White Bwana’s sidekick for the day. He normally spent Saturday fully occupied, doing nothing, but here he was, dressed all smart in his Boy Scout uniform and about to spend his free time as unpaid assistant cook. Bwana had promised Sixpence that if he worked hard, did as he was told and shut his stupid mouth, he, the Great White Bwana would cook the best fish kedgeree and baked apple desert in the world, and thus win first prize at the annual Scout cooking competition and that he, Sixpence, would receive 50% of the spoils.

Once Bwana had found the small, roped off allocated plot that would become the bush kitchen for a day, he had his Sixpence working hard immediately. After dragging most of Bwana’s mother’s kitchen out the back of her estate car and assembling three tables, Sixpence was told to go to the wood pile.

‘Now, Sixpence,’ Bwana said, whilst handing him two huge buckets, ‘get only nice looking pieces of wood. In one bucket you bring me small white ones and in the other large dark ones. I want six bucket loads and stacked neatly in the corner. Do you understand?’

‘Yes Baas,’ Sixpence replied and wandered confusedly to the massive pile of off-cuts that had been dumped by the local furniture manufacturer in the middle of the football sized field.

By now the sun was doing its usual Central African stunt by making poor Sixpence sweat terribly as he staggered back with the heavy buckets. Meanwhile, Bwana had created TWO fireplaces with some bricks (nice clean ones) that had magically appeared from one of the tin trunks that Sixpence had nearly split a gut dragging to the plot.

Even though Sixpence was an expert arsonist since the age of three, Bwana wouldn’t allow him to build the fires. Bwana wanted to make a work of art. White wood had been used to get the fires started and he had then carefully placed the dark hard wood on top. If Sixpence would have made the fire, it would have been a huge pyramid, and  he would have poured some petrol on it and have a big blaze immediately. Just like Boss Rob in the adjacent plot next door! Now instead, poor Sixpence was forced to lie on the ground and blow gently on the fires to get them glowing nicely.

‘Sixpence, go and fill the buckets with water. One must always be on the small fire getting hot for your washing up water,’ Bwana told his lazy cook-boy, who was taking a short break and scratching at his hole, whilst grinning stupidly at the next-door neighbours; who had just realised that they had forgotten to bring any tables.

Sixpence couldn’t understand why Bwana refused to give Boss Rob and Boss Angus one of their tables, for after all, they were also from the same Scout troop.

As Sixpence wandered off to look for some water, he was starting to think that he was going to be doing very little cooking and a lot of manual labour. He muttered mutinous threats under his breath.

When Sixpence returned with his feet and socks soaking wet from spilling half of the water, Bwana had turned the plot into a scene straight out of some futuristic Out of Africa film. He had a huge green umbrella over two tables. Piles of snow white crockery and gleaming stainless steel pots and pans and silver tea-set, covered one table. Two huge, spotless, wood chopping boards and an entire set of master chef knives were placed on the other. Sixpence also had a table that was covered, but not with shade. His table was covered with a large plastic washing up bowl, a drying rack, a bottle of sanction busting imported washing up liquid, and a pile of stain free, neatly ironed tea towels with motifs of roses.

‘Sixpence, here is a scrubbing brush for your nails. Whilst I prepare the food, you can go for a walk but be back in 30 minutes because I will have some washing up for you then.’

‘Yes Baas, thank you Baas’, Sixpence said.

He was happy for a respite, as he was hurting from all the heavy loads his poor back had suffered. Wandering aimlessly about, his heart was bursting with pride as he looked at all the other hundred odd kitchens. His Bwana had the best one of all and Boss Rob and Angus had the worst!

Sixpence got back right on time, only fifteen minutes late, to find Bwana had indeed produced lots of dirty plates to be washed up. Bwana was very forgiving and instead of whipping his boy, handed a crisply ironed, whiter than white apron to Sixpence, who was then soon washing happily away. The washing up liquid made his hands soft, not like the stuff at his home, which gave him palms like scouring pads whenever he was forced by his parents to wash up because the lazy maid didn’t have to work on Sundays. 

Whilst Sixpence dried up, he watched the three judges who had arrived for the first inspection and were now in Boss’s Angus and Rob’s kitchen. Boss Rob was filleting a couple of bream (tilapia), on his lap whilst sitting cross-legged on the ground. The fish was stinking a bit under the midday sun, making Sixpence’s nose runny and he wiped it clean on his forearm. The judges were very impressed with Boss Angus who was busy doing a famed tribal dance called, ‘Termite Death’. He was stamping on millions of tiny red ants that were crawling in chaotic order over everything whilst looking for free snacks. The judges noted carefully the pots that were caked with muck and were boiling furiously on top of a warped blackened wire grill, balanced precariously on three unlike sized rocks.

Now it was the turn for The Great White Bwana and his Sixpence to be inspected. Bwana made his Sixpence stand to attention, as Bwana gave the judges the smartest Boy Scout salute since Lord Baden-Powell invented it. They wandered around with murmurs of astonishment. Sixpence guessed the last time they had seen a set up like this was at the five star Victoria Falls hotel! Even the dustbin looked like it had been flown in from some far away land just for this occasion. All the ingredients for the meal were beautifully laid out, the smoked herrings rested in a bed of ice, ready to be broken up into large chunks and to be placed into a spotless pot with gently warming milk, complete with a bay leaf floating on the top. The perfect smokeless fire glowed invitingly under the stainless steel grill. Bwana was as cool as the cucumber sandwiches that he offered the judges.

        ‘Perhaps a small refreshment’ he said, proffering a huge brilliant white, gold embossed serving tray with tiny triangular sliced sandwiches made with fluffy private bakery bread, perched cheekily between thinly sliced iced lettuce. ‘Perhaps, a cup of tea? Sixpence, pour some tea for our esteemed guests.’

Sixpence, not being a complete idiot, did so with a flourish, complete with a clean tea towel draped over his arm as he poured tea into dainty cups. Putting on his number one smile, he asked if they preferred illegally imported white, brown or candy sugar. Bwana seemed satisfied as the judges moved on.

‘Sixpence, stop grinning like an idiot! Make yourself useful.’ Bwana handed Sixpence a huge tin of aerosol ant killer. ‘Spray the table legs and all the ground’.

Sixpence did as he was told in double quick time. He wanted to take a burning stick out the fire and spray that too, because it made a cool flame thrower to roast the ants, but he knew Bwana would give him a clap around the ear hole if he tried.

Sixpence decided to take the piss a bit.

‘Aaah, Baas Rob, shall I spray your food as well? I think you are suppose to make fish kedgeree not ant kedgeree,’ he said whilst laughing like a hyena.

Bass Rob was not impressed and told Sixpence he was a cheeky bastard and would get a kick up his arse so hard that Sixpence would turn into two Tickys.

Cheeky Sixpence went back to washing dishes, giggling stupidly at his own clever wit, whilst Bwana was getting everything ready for the baked apple. As he set about mixing dark brown demerara sugar with cinnamon, Bwana decided to try and educate Sixpence.

‘Sixpence, the rules, besides saying what kind of meal it must be, has only one other requisite. This is that the meal must be cooked over an open fire.’ Bwana tipped his head in the direction of the suffering fools next door, ‘Bush cooking can be done in two ways. One is in a simulation of a war zone, complete with starving soldiers, battling the elements to create something edible that might kill them, if the termites don’t eat them alive first, or  - secondly - it can be done in a style fit for a King!’

Sixpence just nodded his head enthusiastically. He couldn’t answer, because firstly, he didn’t have a clue what Bwana was going on about, and secondly his mouth was stuffed with the rest of the cucumber sandwiches that he had thieved when Bwana wasn’t looking.

Bwana picked up a perfectly shaped, glossy granny smith apple. In his other hand he had a strange object resembling a small steel tube attached to the handle. As he carefully pressed it through the middle of the apple from the top, he went on educating his Sixpence.

‘Sixpence, can you remember what the Boy Scout motto is?’

Sixpence, thought carefully whilst he swallowed the last sandwich,

‘Yes Baas, it is, “Be Prepared”.’

Sixpence's eyes bulged with astonishment as he watched Bwana, who with a few deft twists, pulled the entire core out the apple. Sixpence knew that if he had attempted to use this amazing piece of, ‘White Mans Magic’, the corer would have carried on through the apple and made a huge hole in his palm.

‘I have practised this dish three times at home. I have it down to perfection. In exactly 45 minutes we will be ready to present it to the judges,’ Bwana said as he stuffed the apple with the sugar mix.

He then placed an aural of cloves around the top and placed it on a small aluminium tray. This was then carefully placed in a large pot. He slowly added water till it floated and with the lid in place this in turn was placed on the fire.

Sixpence was very impressed and made a mental note that perhaps there were other ways to being clever besides having just a smart mouth that got him into trouble all the time. Sixpence noticed that Bass Rob had also prepared their apple. It didn’t involve such fancy preparation as the Bwana’s apple. They just popped a small one into an enamel cup, poured some water over it and placed it in the middle of the hottest flames, where its skin promptly started to shrivel in agony.

Whilst Sixpence did more washing up, Bwana prepared the coup de grace. On a silver platter three of the bone china plates were placed. A small vase appeared with a single red rose in it. Three pure linen serviettes, neatly rolled, were placed in polished silver rings to match the three silver forks and spoons. The aroma being given off by the fish kedgeree in its imported basmati rice made Sixpence’s mouth dribble with desire.

After a while, Baas Rob and Baas Angus had returned from where they had brought their burnt offerings to be judged. They announced arrogantly to the Great White Bwana that, ‘the judges said it was delicious!’

‘Sixpence, put on a fresh apron and comb your hair,’ Bwana said as he placed the finished food onto the plates. Looking at the tray, Sixpence was stunned. The apple was fit to burst, not a mark on its skin except streaks of glossy melted sugar reeking of cinnamon dribbling gently down.

Now, whilst Sixpence hadn’t taken much part in the cooking, he was not a total bloody fool and he had one trick up his sleeve. Not even the cleverest Bwana had thought of this one!

‘Baas, you forgot one thing,’ and from his coat pocket he gave Bwana a beautiful hand made menu, embossed with the Boy Scout Logo and inside was little pictures of fish and apples. Sixpence had even managed to spell ‘kedgeree’ correctly!

Bwana was very pleased with his Sixpence and they joined the end of the line. Bwanas timing was impeccable. The food was still piping hot when it was presented to the stunned judges. Tears of gratitude rolled down their cheeks and they willingly participated in the ceremony as Sixpence presented the menu, then laid the serviettes on their laps whilst Bwana served up the food. The oohhs and aahhs of appreciation reverberated around, stunning the other competitors. They were all going to be losers, and they knew it. Sixpence now knew he would become famous one day.

 

The last part of the competition was presenting a cleaned up kitchen. Sixpence was very upset as Bwana had made him even clean up the fireplace and scrub the grills till he was almost blinded by its flashing brilliance. After the judges had been for the final marking, Bwana packed everything away and Sixpence dragged his exhausted body once more backwards and forwards whilst loaded down with crates and boxes full of hot bricks.

As the sun set, the Scouts all gathered for the prize giving. Bwana looked very smart but Sixpence was rather bedraggled and smelled of wood-smoke. And then it happened – Bwana and Sixpence were called out, First prize! Bwana and Sixpence proudly received each a folding canvas camping chair each. Sixpence was taken home and told his Father of his magnificent triumph, but his Father said,

‘Cooking! You will be wearing dresses next,’ which upset Sixpence very much.

The following Friday evening at the Scout hall, Bwana approached Sixpence, looking a little peeved off.

‘Sixpence, does your camping stool work properly?’

Sixpence gazed intently at the ceiling for a moment before replying.

‘My stool is working fine Baas, what is wrong with yours?’

Sixpence didn’t need the answer, because when he had put the stools in the boot he had noticed that one of them was a reject, having one of its legs three inches short. So whilst Bwana had been very smart in winning the cooking competition, Sixpence had taken the only working chair - because he was very clever-clever!

The Gokwe Kid – Mission Impassability

Well, I needed a bit of a break from writing and editing ad nauseum. I was starting to get stale and not very imaginative. As I await my chapters coming back from my reluctant editor, I did other things. BUT, thankfully my desire to write returned.

Today is Nigel Triggs’s birthday. Nigel has a huge part in my book, but also he has bent backwards to help me with input and information. I thank him for that. So, I dashed off this little anecdote which I dedicate to him. This is not in the book.

Mission Impassability

Gokwe POs singles’ quarters, winter 1977. The lads are having a game of poker. Things get excitable and finally the game is called over and out around 1 in the morning. The others wander to bed but not the infamous Gokwe Kid because he is a man on a mission of impossible stupidity. Feeling well pleased with himself after freeing at least 75cents from the wallets of Messrs PO Triggs, Golden and Brockbank, the great Dick of the Bushveld has more coin to score by order of the great police bwana of Gokwe, Chief Inspector Harvey.

With the government desperate for funds it seemed a good idea to lash out a few tickets on unsuspecting drivers and as such duty PO (me), was to place a road block ten clicks out of Gokwe on the main dirt drag to Que Que and knobble a few bucks. This, for some obscure reason, had been designated between the hours of 2 to 4am.

Shortly before ticketing time, I meandered sleepily into the charge office and asked for a volunteer. Immediately a small riot broke out as by now my reputation preceded my authority and most of the black staff turned white at the prospect of going any where with The Gokwe Kid. Strong men have known to break down in the Boss’s office and volunteer to go on a six months PATU tour rather than half a day with the greatest bush detective of all time.  

Still, I managed to bribe one with a promise of a bottle of Coke and as the town hall clock didn’t bong twice, I had a Police Ahead sign and a pole on some rickety legs spanning the middle of the road. Mindful that the place had more gooks swarming around than ticks on a ridgeback’s back, I turned the Landy lights and engine off and proceeded to chill out a bit. I was chilled all right- I was bloody freezing! Even with the heavy long grey coat, the temperature must have been barely above zero up there on the plateau.

After about 90 minutes of teeth chattering and spitting out loosened fillings – a car approaches! So exciting. I dash out and nearly get run over. The frightened driver had no chance and I really put the boot in. Did him for just about everything my fine little fine book could offer up. Horn and indicators not working, bald tyres, dodgy brakes, no soapy water in his windscreen wiper spray thingys, rear view mirror chipped – in fact I filled out the entire part allocated for the bad things. It came to a massive 153 dollars and 25 cents. I sent the poor man off with his copy. By that time it was 4am so I packed up, went home, threw the book into the Boss’s in tray and popped off for some sleepy eye.

I was allowed an extra couple of hours sleep in and wandered into the charge office at 10am, just in time for a nice cup of tea, when my name was roared out from the direction of Mike Harvey’s office. He sounded in pain.

“PO Greenberg, I see you have ticketed someone for various offences related to an unworthy road vehicle.”

“Yes Sah!” I beamed intelligently. “I got him for just about everything.”

“I see. Do you remember the driver’s name or where he lives?” asks the Boss.

Mmm, strange question indeed. I am not good with names and black peoples’ names were rather incomprehensible to my dyslexic brain. Besides, I was giving the man a ticket, not asking him to be my new best china and can I pop around to his pad for a party. I shook my head in the negative.

“I presume you know what he looks like?”

“Yes Sah, he was…er… black!”

“Very good Greenberg. Do you recall the vehicle’s registration number?”

Eish! That was tricky one. Maybe he hadn’t any. I should have whacked that onto the fine list as well. Again I shook my head in the negative. Tossing the open fine book in my direction, the Boss says

“Can you find any glaring mistakes you may have perhaps made whilst filling in this fine?”

I looked carefully and whistled softly under my breath. Oh-oh, the amount had been added up wrong, I had short changed the Rhodesian government out of 15 dollars. I apologised profusely and hoped to hell I wasn’t going to be forced to cough up the difference.

The Boss sighed in that same way my teachers did when they handed back my essays.

“PO Greenberg, if the driver does not turn up to pay the fine in seven days, are you going to fetch him in?”

I nodded enthusiastically in the positive.

“Pray, tell me, how will that be possible when you have neglected to fill out the entire part relating to his name, address, vehicle type and registration?”

Now that was a very good question and I suddenly thought that perhaps I had also forgotten to put my belt on because my shorts seemed to be now flapping around my ankles. Taking a pen, the Boss drew a line through the page and wrote ‘Cancelled’.

“You are dismissed.”

The Gokwe Kid goes on the rampage

At the height of the riots in England this year, the desperate government appealed for help. Immediately Dr Who tele-transported the only man that could sort the problem out – The Gokwe Kid – Dick of the Bushveld.

 

After being dragged out of some target practise, ripped through time and space, the rather disorientated Gokwe Kid took aim at what he conceived to be horrible hoodie gooks looting some stores. Aiming rapidly, he let rip, missing Curry’s full of electric crap shop and marauding hoodie gooks, and fired straight into a WHS Smith bookstore.

The carnage was awful. Every copy of Wilbur Smith’s new book was incinerated along with every GCSE crib notes on how to become a celebrity by sitting on the dole. Not one hoodie gook was killed. Terrible! Sorry about that.

Don’t drink, do drugs and then post on Facebook – It could get you killed.

Well, it has been a hectic few days with me getting completely stressed and wound up. With Xmas coming up, everybody seems to be paying attention to their own lives and friends and family, and leave me and my book on the sideline. Poor little me. Not to worry hey.

Still, as ever, The Indefatigable Unimpressionable Gokwe Kid, messing about whilst his editor fires off comments like –

Yo, DOTB (Dick of the Bushveld)

When I started the project I soon rued the day I put my hand up, but you're growing on me (you are a fungi to know).

As I plough through, I'm getting a feel for when you were out of your head, vs when you were lucid. It's not hard to tell. That's why I have "flattened out" some of the weirder passages as no-one will have the vaguest idea what the hell you're on about and your reviews (read, future sales) will be bugga'd.

However, I have kept these to a minimum.

I had no idea there was so much material... it's seriously time-consuming and I'm doing it as my real job/life permits. You'll just have to wait till I'm done.

What do you refer to with the images? I thought you were putting it all together, or am I to design the book for nikisi, as well as editing it? If so, I demand a 100% pay rise.

Lots of love,

Your Editor

(I added that lots of love bit myself. You don’t really want to know what he really signed out with.)

Sigh, such positive feedback hey! Poor bloke. Still, The Gokwe Kid, now actually starting to take the impersona of the creature he has created, decides that he needs better attention than that and cleverly unleashes images and clever-clever accompanying chit-chat in the vain hope he will have millions of fans worshipping him. Instead, he gets a lynch mob!

Oh-oh.! I needed to create what is known as a reverse positive feedback loop. It works like this –

My ‘late’ (not late enough as far as I am concerned), father used to say to me (at least everyday) – ‘Every time you open your mouth, you put your foot in it.’

Fair enough. After that we take foot out of mouth and blab my way out of the fact of why I put my foot in my mouth in the first place. I think there is a scientific name for this problem – insanity.

Well, as can be predicted – firing off Gokwe Kid type witticisms, whilst heavily sedated by legal and not so legal substances, tends get some draw backs. Next thing you know, I have been accused of all sorts including a sociopathic rapist with a penance to write in gory detail the ‘conquests’ in the vain hope of making some quick bucks. Not bad!

I would have been better off calling Mother Teresa ‘A lying, thieving Albanian dwarf.’ (Christopher Hitchens). Bloody hell, me thinks, this is not too good. Time for damage limitation. So, we do all that, try to clear the airwaves. But lesson learnt - till the next time I am out off my skull. Still, being a very sensitive soul, I had to take to my bed for 14 hours and I was very unwell, but I am better now. As if any of you care! Oh man, just wait till you read the book – it is insane!!!

Meanwhile -

 

The Gokwe Kid Christmas Card

Digging around and sorting out pictures to scan yet again, so the quality will be good enough for the print, I came across a BSAP season’s greetings card. I sent it to my mum in the UK in December 1976. Hilariously, at the back it has a request for her to send four batteries for my Currys £20 digital watch which has a part in my story.

Anyway, I took the card, tweeked it a bit and here it is! My Christmas card for you. Simply copy, print, cut it out and glue the cover on – job done. It will take pride of place on the mantelpiece.

Best wishes, and hopefully I post again soon…

The Gokwe Kid - out.

We Will Remember Them

Bang in the middle of the book is an extraordinary chapter. It is literally a turning point in my narrative. Something amazing occurs and incredulously most of it was airbrushed out of the Rhodesian press. I managed to get hold of the press coverage but since I knew more than what was reported, I decided that I should make a determined attempt to uncover the facts.

Now this is where the power of the internet comes in. I am sure that many of you have heard of the six degrees of separation. It refers to the idea that everyone is on average approximately six steps away, by way of introduction, from any other person on Earth, so that a chain of, "a friend of a friend" statements can be made, on average, to connect any two people in six steps or fewer. (Wikipedia). Recently I read that this had become four due to social networking.

 

So, as the Gokwe Kid, the greatest of bush detectives, I went about a’dickin and slowly but surely, started on getting the pieces of a rather large puzzle together. First off I needed input from fellow police officers. This didn’t throw up too much info as one of the main characters, Inspector Andy Gray, is now dead. My own Boss was on holiday at the time. One copper was around but wasn’t involved ‘directly’ but supplied me with valuable background and some interesting observations. Another copper was directly involved but so far has ignored my appeals to Email me.

I then needed input from the Rhodesian Airforce. Through my pal ‘Coolbeans’ an ex-chopper tech, an appeal was put out on their huge site ORAFS. I then received a copy of the same account I describe but it was missing many details and also in some respects inaccurate. I then was able through the ORAF contact to actually get hold of the actual pilot and he made a huge effort to clarify many points. But this still wasn’t enough because I needed input from the Rhodesian African Rifles (RAR). The web didn’t help me much so I contacted another china who puts me in touch with an ex-Brigadier from the RAR. He in turn puts me in touch with Major General Michael Shute who was CO of the RAR at the time.

By now I am bricking myself. Bloody hell, I am just a lowly ex Patrol Officer and I am talking to big guns! Mike Shute does the business and low and behold, I receive input from not one, but two RAR commanders involved in the incident! I still haven’t yet gone through forensically the amazing recollections as this means a rather large rewrite of the chapter.

But just going through what I have, it threw up even more missing bits, like, it turns out the School of Infantry were also involved! That group, along with National Park rangers has me a bit stumped at the moment. I doubt I will get their versions, so will have to make as accurate guesses as possible to fill in the missing bits.

I still have questions for some of my ‘informants’ before I finally wrap up one of the biggest incidents of the war inside Rhodesia that involved three branches of the security forces and National Parks, and has never been fully told. Sadly it has very tragic moments but what happens is a tale of immense skill, courage and tenacity that lasts for days and covers over 200 kilometres.

So, wait and see. Meanwhile - Mike Shute is raising funds for the construction of a memorial at the National Memorial Arboretum inStaffordshire to honour the fallen members of The Rhodesian Native Regiment and The Rhodesian African Rifles. As can be seen by the cover of the brochure he sent me, they want to build it based on the stone structure of the famous Zimbabwe Ruins. You can actually buy a stone. There is also a raffle with the first prize a framed painting by John Hopkins, ex 1RAR Officer, who was art teacher in Wales but now retired early to paint as a professional.

If you wish to donate or buy a ticket (£5) please Email –

Mike Shute, Chairman – Regimental Memorial Committee at

michaelshute@btinternet.com

Finally, to wrap up this posting before I continue going over the book that everyone will love to hate…

Have you heard about the ruckus over the recent Nando’s advertisement ‘Last Dictator Standing’? The nice people in charge of Zimbabwe threatened to murder all the staff of Nando’s, so they had to pull it. Here it is -