Part 2. 165 pp US$17
The editors have decided to serialise this book for the following reasons.
The book is illustrative of the life of Constance, the wife of an Anglican curate in what was then Rhodesia. The story begins in August 1964-Constance accompanies her husband to St. Albans Mission in Chiweshe paramountcy, in the Mashona heartland.
The buildings were cracked and peeling, the tin roofs on the teachers’ houses were sagging. The bishop gave the young curate six months, or the mission would be closed.
The story is one of co-operative development and native empowerment. Constance introduced the Girl Guides into the lives of aspiring girls, taught home crafts, including sewing, cooking new dishes, milking and making cheeses and butter milk.
In all this, they were bound together by Christian living and fellowship.
When Bishop Kenneth Skelton visited, saw running water in the manse, and renovated class rooms by a local carpenter, Mr. Mungate, he forgot to talk of closing the mission station-by planning to make St. Albans a central place for planting new churches in the area.
Makoni gives us a glimpse into inter-faith and religious co-operation. Salvation Army Hospital served the population, of all faiths and no faiths, for free. It was there that Constance gave birth to her eighth child. The service was for free.
There is another glimpse into the life of this period. Constance and her husband were involved in a car accident, and admitted into Concession Government Hospital.
Dhliwayo, the head orderly, drove overnight to inform the children of the accident.
The medical services mentioned, which were once taken for granted, have become casualties of mismanagement.
The relationships between the natives and whites were in many cases friendly. History has taught us that whether in the deep south of the US and in South Africa, it was the politicians who excercerbated somewhat benign relationships.
Boys in the Makoni family were named after white neighbors or missionaries admired for their empathy for black people. Robert was named after a friendly white farmer, Robert Bromley, Stanley after the Dean of Salisbury who baptized him and so on.
It has been debated whether credit should be given to missionaries for their contribution to the creation of a highly educated populace (with the highest literacy rate of 96%) in the world, or whether the credit goes to the African society itself.
Nevertheless, in Constance’s family of 8, three achieved doctoral degrees overseas, and the rest achieved Masters’ degrees. The result of this widespread educational achievement is that almost every family in today’s Zimbabwe has one resident working abroad.
Chapter 7 introduces us to the mixed blessings of independence. The Makoni family were transferred to a rectory at Rusape, a growing town on the Mutare-Beira commercial corridor.
To Constance, the pastor’s wife, opportunities were everywhere. There was a need for a driving school, as many liberated liberation veterans were being re-integrated into society.
As she looked around, for the first time, blacks could open businesses in urban business centers, competing with Asians and whites. She saw advantages in opening a general supply company.
While the pastor’s wife found new opportunities, Julius returned home to join the Merchant Bank as a senior banker.
This chapter is the heart of the matter. Having worked in the UK and the US, Julius knew something about monetary policy. He became increasingly desperate as he realized that the financial symmetry of Zimbabwe was being systematically disassembled.
In simple English, an economy which does not keep value in its money destroys all savings and negates accumulation of wealth.
In a conference at Victoria Falls by the Zimbabwe Chambers of Commerce, Julius presented a paper critical of government policy.
The second part of the part was the horrific realisation that the Zimbabwe government did not tolerate criticisms. The moment of truth came when, realizing that even intellectual influencers were subservient.
“The growing tension and the subsequent threats to my safety made it clear that remaining in Zimbabwe was no longer viable.” He wrote.
For those who lived in the colonial period and transitioned to the post-colonial period, the cruel reality is that: the more things change, the more they remain the same.
To be continued.