By Jonathan Chando| While it is with deep regret and anger that I write this piece today, it also serves as part of my resolve to continue fighting for my people against three fronts, our continent faces.

These fronts are not easy to defeat, but given the resolve, resilience and determination we, as young guerrillas, displayed against the British and the Rhodesians in the 1970s, I’m encouraged to take the fight on these three fronts. I fight, not alone, but with the power of those who died for the same cause yesteryear, and the power of the one who led Moses out of Egypt.
Today I received some very disturbing news about of the death of my best friend and comrade’s only daughter, who was killed in the xenophobic attacks in Durban. She was an innocent girl, who had qualified as a cardiologist at the University of KwaZulu Natal and worked for a hospital in Durban, saving the very lives of those who killed her.
It pains me that this young lady grew up without her dad, because her dad died not for Zimbabwe but for the liberation of the very same country that has killed his daughter, South Africa.

Her dad had spent 4 years with me in the bush in North Eastern Zimbabwe (then Rhodesia) fighting Ian Smith’s army to liberate Zimbabwe. Her dad and I fought under ZANLA and worked together with our compatriots in ZIPRA in the then Sipolilo and Mutorashanga areas running up to Murombedzi. Her dad and I came back alive with other ZANLA and ZIPRA cadres at independence. We were part of the contingency that then formed the now ZNA, and having been intelligence officers back in the war, we joined the now ZIC.

In 1985, my friend met with his creator in a way that has devastated my whole life. He died a painful death, not for his country, nor for his family, but for South Africa. My friend was tortured and left for dead by our own colleagues for a “crime “ committed in the line of duty for a “foreign country”, South Africa. I say foreign because today I view it as foreign in the aftermath of the death of my friend’s daughter. I have always believed that Africa was my country, not Zimbabwe. I have always believed that we are one from Cape to Cairo. But now I have realised that my fight for that oneness is only beginning. We have to fight on three fronts to achieve that oneness in Africa.

My friend was tortured because he had led a team of military intelligence officers to break into the armoury at 3 Brigade in Mutare. They broke in and stole arms , military equipment and ammunition. They had been given official instructions to do this for a purpose, but unfortunately one of them was caught and arrested. He then sold out his colleagues, including my best friend and comrade.

They were arrested, but the stolen arms, military equipment and ammunition were not recovered. This infuriated the military police and the guys were tortured for days on end, but refused to talk. They refused to talk for two reasons. 1. They were professional military officers sworn to secrecy of their missions. 2. They were protecting the country from a humiliating and embarrassing situation.
My friend and his team had been assigned to ensure the supply of arms, military equipment and ammunition to our colleagues of Mkhondo We Sizwe. This they would do by breaking into armouries of the ZNA and AFZ , so that Zimbabwe would not be implicated in supplying South African guerrillas with arms. Zimbabwe had signed a secret agreement with Apartheid South Africa never to supply arms to ANC or PAC guerrillas. So breaking into armouries and stealing arms to supply our fellow guerrillas was a smarter way of doing this. Zimbabwe would deny supplying the arms to the Azanians as it would have proof of the break-ins and thefts.

But fate wouldn’t have it for my friend. The military police who arrested them did not know that this was a sanctioned mission by the state assigned to their colleagues. The powers that be kept quiet because the case had already been published in the media. So they threw my colleagues under the bus. They always say in intelligence circles, an intelligence officer is a dispensable tool.

My friend was released when they saw that he was about to die from the torture. He lived two weeks after he was released. This was one of the reasons I decided I didn’t want that job anymore, though it took me years to get a good reason to quit.
My friend left behind two toddlers, a daughter and a son. They grew up without knowing their father. Their dad had died for the South African cause. He had fought a good war for his country and accomplished. He was now fighting for our fellow neighbours who were still oppressed when he met his death.
My friend’s wife was also a Captain in the ZNA and she was subsequently dismissed for reasons best known to the authorities. She fended for her children through thick and thin.
The children grew up and both went to University.
Now the daughter is killed by South Africans in xenophobic attacks, yet her father died in the line of duty working to help liberate the very people who now kill his beloved daughter? This is the most painful part of my grief. That’s where the saying “it never rains but pours” came into my mind.

Now my fight as I mentioned is on three fronts.
The first front is fighting the oppressive capitalist system which divided Africa into these countries and continues to ensure that Africans fight against one another while the capitalists are free to move across Africa with impunity and plunder our resources.

The second front is the very leadership of our countries that abandons our liberation ideologies, values, Pan Africanist ethos, and suck up to the capitalist materialistic lifestyles at the expense of both their citizens and those who fought for Africa’s liberation. They have developed robust cartels and corrupt systems serving the same white capitalists and themselves, while preaching liberation slogans which they know little about.

The third front is the mental hypnotisation that Africa faces, which makes them believe that whites and capitalism are a better way of living. We have become slaves of a lifestyle that negates our cultural values and continental unity and the capitalists continue to throw this into our minds through the media and entertainment fora, social disinformation, education system and economic dominance.

Africa needs to refocus and fight a war against these three fronts for it to bring glory to itself and establish a united self loving continent. The fight will go on and one day we will triumph!

ALUTA CONTINUA!