Opinion / Columnist
Gukurahundi horror, parents killed as teen watched
05 Jan 2015 at 21:19hrs | Views
Who is this Nathaniel Manheru? who is speaking so much sh** about us victims of the Gukurahundi time.?
I was 14 years old when Gukurahundi soldiers came to our home in ****** area of Tsholotsho. It was around 10 in the morning when they arrived. I think it was 12 of them in red berrets their eyes very red and smoking mbanje and singing Comrade Chinks songs. Our home was first home in front of the hill and so first target.
They ordered my father and brother and my uncle to slaughter a goat for them and my mother to prepare food for them in 30 minutes. When my father was still choosing which goat to kill for them. They kicked him very hard on the chest saying that he was too slow. My father was about 49 years.
I saw him caughing blood some coming from his nose from the kick on his chest. When he could not stand up they told my brother who was 24 to get a goat and kill it. He pulled the goat that was nearest to him and they hit him hard on the back with a wood for closing the kraal and he fell on the wood making the kraal. They said he was picking a small goat. One of them jumped into the kraal and used a bayonet to cut kill one big goat by tearing its belly and ordered my brother and uncle to skin it. My father who was still lying down was told to stand up and skin the goat. He tried and fell down four times before he was kicked heavy on the head and that was the last time I saw my father alive.
We left him at the kraal and went with two skinned goat thighs and neck that were skinned in a hurry. My mother was told to cook fast. They were saying she cooks for dissidents quickly and for them slow. They clapped her and kicked several times while she was cooking a big pot of papa.
When they were eating they told my uncle and my brother to dig a grave for my father next to the kraal for the goats. Another man who was passing by on a bicyle was also told to join and dig the grave. After eating three of them took my mother to a room. I heard her scream very hard for a long time. I didn't know I was young at that time that they were raping my mother. The other ones kept beating my brother and uncle and the man telling them to dig fast. When they finished eating and dancing and smoking mbanje they told the man and my uncle to throw my father in the grave. I think he was still a little bit alife because they shot him inside the grave. Then they shot the man who was passing also in the grave.
The other three came with my mother who was almost naked and bleeding on the mouth and nose and swallen eyes. They shouted at her in Shona and told her to follow her husband. She was also thrown into the grave and I heard her scream louder. My uncle tried to ask them not to kill her and was also killed with a bayonet from the back. We tried to run away with my brother and my brother was shot down. They shouted to me in Shona but I just ran until I got to the well and hide there.
I saw them from the well, they buried the grave of my father and my mother and my brother and my uncle and another man his name I don't know even today.
I stayed at the well until it was about getting dark. Everyone was hiding in their homes no one was moving or coming to see what was happening at our home. At night I started walking to my younger father who stayed at the next village. When I get there they were chocked that I was alive. I told them everything I saw my younger father cried like a little baby. I was strong I was tired of crying and could not cry any more.
My father's brother and sister and other old man from the village went to our home after some days and they invited people to the grave and they did not dig it but put stones and more soil and prepared the grave. Even today I do not know the man who was buried with my parents. My father's home was closed until I grew up and rebuilt the home. I stay there even today with my wife and children whilist I am working in South Africa.
After my father was killed I stayed another three years without going to school. I was grade 4 in 1984 when they killed my parents. During the war I stopped another two years without learning. I learned up to form 2 and my father's brother could not let me learn any more he did not have money to make me a birth and sent me to South Africa to find a job. If my father and mother or uncle were not killed I would have finished my school and maybe passed and be a teacher today but because of Gukurahundi today I am just a contract worker building other people's homes in South Africa.
If Sharamba is saying that we have forgotten Gukurahundi and must never talk about it then I want my mother and my father and my brother and my uncle before I can say now I am qute and happy. Someone must tell Mugabe that some people are starting us whilist we are qute and Sharamba is number 1. Please we don't want nosence we want peace and remember our fathers in peace. Thank you my brother.
I was 14 years old when Gukurahundi soldiers came to our home in ****** area of Tsholotsho. It was around 10 in the morning when they arrived. I think it was 12 of them in red berrets their eyes very red and smoking mbanje and singing Comrade Chinks songs. Our home was first home in front of the hill and so first target.
They ordered my father and brother and my uncle to slaughter a goat for them and my mother to prepare food for them in 30 minutes. When my father was still choosing which goat to kill for them. They kicked him very hard on the chest saying that he was too slow. My father was about 49 years.
I saw him caughing blood some coming from his nose from the kick on his chest. When he could not stand up they told my brother who was 24 to get a goat and kill it. He pulled the goat that was nearest to him and they hit him hard on the back with a wood for closing the kraal and he fell on the wood making the kraal. They said he was picking a small goat. One of them jumped into the kraal and used a bayonet to cut kill one big goat by tearing its belly and ordered my brother and uncle to skin it. My father who was still lying down was told to stand up and skin the goat. He tried and fell down four times before he was kicked heavy on the head and that was the last time I saw my father alive.
We left him at the kraal and went with two skinned goat thighs and neck that were skinned in a hurry. My mother was told to cook fast. They were saying she cooks for dissidents quickly and for them slow. They clapped her and kicked several times while she was cooking a big pot of papa.
When they were eating they told my uncle and my brother to dig a grave for my father next to the kraal for the goats. Another man who was passing by on a bicyle was also told to join and dig the grave. After eating three of them took my mother to a room. I heard her scream very hard for a long time. I didn't know I was young at that time that they were raping my mother. The other ones kept beating my brother and uncle and the man telling them to dig fast. When they finished eating and dancing and smoking mbanje they told the man and my uncle to throw my father in the grave. I think he was still a little bit alife because they shot him inside the grave. Then they shot the man who was passing also in the grave.
I saw them from the well, they buried the grave of my father and my mother and my brother and my uncle and another man his name I don't know even today.
I stayed at the well until it was about getting dark. Everyone was hiding in their homes no one was moving or coming to see what was happening at our home. At night I started walking to my younger father who stayed at the next village. When I get there they were chocked that I was alive. I told them everything I saw my younger father cried like a little baby. I was strong I was tired of crying and could not cry any more.
My father's brother and sister and other old man from the village went to our home after some days and they invited people to the grave and they did not dig it but put stones and more soil and prepared the grave. Even today I do not know the man who was buried with my parents. My father's home was closed until I grew up and rebuilt the home. I stay there even today with my wife and children whilist I am working in South Africa.
After my father was killed I stayed another three years without going to school. I was grade 4 in 1984 when they killed my parents. During the war I stopped another two years without learning. I learned up to form 2 and my father's brother could not let me learn any more he did not have money to make me a birth and sent me to South Africa to find a job. If my father and mother or uncle were not killed I would have finished my school and maybe passed and be a teacher today but because of Gukurahundi today I am just a contract worker building other people's homes in South Africa.
If Sharamba is saying that we have forgotten Gukurahundi and must never talk about it then I want my mother and my father and my brother and my uncle before I can say now I am qute and happy. Someone must tell Mugabe that some people are starting us whilist we are qute and Sharamba is number 1. Please we don't want nosence we want peace and remember our fathers in peace. Thank you my brother.
Source - Gukurahundi Victim
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