By Dr. Masimba Mavaza
The life of a hero is always uncertain, for it can end at any moment. Mukoma Joe, as a hero, couldn’t always avoid danger, but he could always banish fear. Though he lost his battle with cancer, Joe will not be forgotten. Those of us who knew him best will share stories of his bravery, heroism, and sacrifices. We’ll remember how he stood by us, how we saved each other’s lives more than once.
Monday, 15 September 2024, will forever be etched in our hearts as the day one of Zimbabwe’s heroes passed on. We will carry Mukoma Joe’s memory in our hearts, celebrating his life and cherishing his fierce loyalty, unwavering convictions, and deep, faithful love for our country, culture, and family. To the Mavaza family, he was a father figure—a principled man who stood by his beliefs without fear. Many Zimbabweans will remember him for his pivotal role in the liberation struggle and his contributions to the police in the post-independence era.
Though he is gone, he will not be forgotten. He lives on within us. His death is not the end, but merely the next chapter. When we learned Mukoma Joe was sick, we prayed, believing all would be well. But it wasn’t meant to be. Now, all we can do is thank him for being a role model, mentor, and friend. Despite our disagreements, blood has always been thicker. Thank you for the love, the laughter, and the countless memories. I will carry his memory in my heart forever and strive to honor him in all that I do.
My heart is shattered into a million pieces. I miss him so much already. The pain is indescribable. Mukoma Joe, larger than life, had the heart of a lion. He never quit, never gave up. Life was hard on him, but he fought back. Given what he lived through, that says a lot. He was an OG, an old soul, wise in the ways of life and the streets. His street name was Joe Mascanda Va.
Mukoma Joe played a massive role in my life. From the start, he took me under his wing and became my big brother. My first pair of jeans, a stone-washed pair, was a gift from him. Without him, I wouldn’t be where I am today. He was the third-born in a family of ten, eight girls and two boys. By the time I was old enough, I felt like the only boy, for he was already a man.
In 1978, he crossed into Mozambique to join the liberation struggle, only to return home and, in 1980, join the newly formed Zimbabwe Republic Police. He retired as an Assistant Inspector in 1988. He taught me to be tough when it mattered, but also how to soften up when necessary. He loved his wine and beer, speaking his mind freely, making friends and enemies along the way. But even those who disliked him, he loved back. He feared no one and nothing. His freedom of speech was both his strength and his charm.
Few loved as fiercely as Mukoma Joe. For that, he was beloved. He made us laugh until we cried. He kept us on our toes, sometimes running away from his third glass of “wisdom.” He made life more fun. He loved watching others grow, especially in their role as fathers. He did this with the same calm demeanor he brought to every aspect of his life.
Mukoma Joe was the center of our world, always surrounded by family and laughter. His bond with his wife, Anna, was a joy to witness. The two of them talked endlessly, always with something to say. I admired the way he honored and respected our parents, even during his moments of stubbornness. His bond with our father was unbreakable—one moment he was close, the next, pushing us away. But that was Mukoma Joe.
The love he had for our mother was on another level. He was the only boy until I came along, and we spent our adult lives as two boys until Calvin was born. Through good and bad, Mukoma Joe always found a way to push forward. I admired how he would breeze into family meetings, usually late, and somehow end them under the influence of his signature humor. He was always the life of the party.
Mukoma Joe had a special way of caring for me as a brother, and that’s the part I will miss the most. My tears flow as I write this. Our sisters are right: our family will never be the same without him. We will grieve his absence for the rest of our days.
While I take comfort in knowing he is no longer in pain and is watching over us as he always did, I will always miss him. He was my rock, my hero. I could breathe deeply because he was there, and for that, I will always be grateful.
I am so proud of Mukoma Joe. I always have been, and I always will be. I am the lucky one. As my friend Ronnie Mabuza says, the mark of a good relationship is when the other person thinks they are getting the better end of the deal. Brother, we all got the better end of the deal.
May you live on in all of us. Rest in peace, Mukoma Joe.
This version preserves the original heart and message while improving the structure and grammar for clarity and flow.