Balla Balla was the home of the Rhodesian African Rifles (RAR). As we drove through the gate of this all volunteer black African unit, you could sense a crispness in the atmosphere that had nothing to do with the weather. This was the most highly motivated unit in the Rhodesian Army. Beyond the spit and polish, the unison of men drilling on the parade ground and the flourish of the swept-up brims of their headgear, you could feel the intensity of purpose that coursed through the base.
These were Africans who had seen the truth. They knew firsthand what the so-called “freedom fighters” of the ZANLA/ZIPRA forces of Mugabe and Nkomo did to the people of Rhodesia. These men had witnessed the killings, mutilations, rapes and kidnappings in their own home villages. Instead of cowering in the face of these atrocities, these men joined the RAR and became the most respected and feared of all Rhodesian forces. (Even after the amalgamation of terrorist forces into the Zimbabwean Army, RAR was the unit that Mugabe called upon to put down rebellious former freedom fighters. These were amazing soldiers.)
We observed troops drilling and had the opportunity to meet one of the newly commissioned black officers. It was an impressive morning. I remember thinking that these men were the future of Africa. I believed that from these ranks would come leaders for the next century. Unfortunately, that was not to be. With the Lancaster House agreement that led to Mugabe’s election as Prime Minister, the fate of men such as these was sealed. When their usefulness as soldiers was over, these men would no longer be safe in independent Zimbabwe. They would have to flee for their lives.
One of the principles that Thieme had drilled into me was that “all freedom comes through military victory.” Although I have since rejected just about everything that I learned from him as it relates to the spiritual life, this is one teaching that seems to hold true historically. Yes, it is possible for people to gain freedom through negotiation and compromise. However, history does seem to teach us that freedoms gained will always be tested on the battlefield. It does seem that lasting freedom only comes through the sacrifice of those who are willing to risk all for the liberty of others.
This is the world we still live in. The nature of the battlefield may change as today’s struggle against political terror has shown us, but ultimately, our security and liberty are dependent on soldiers and policemen worldwide who risk their own lives that we may have ours.
I guess this is why I cannot help but respect the soldiers who fought in this forgotten war. No, maybe they didn’t meet our standards of political correctness formulated in the safety and security of our borders. Yes, sometimes blood rage led them to commit acts for which even they are ashamed. Nevertheless, these are those who stood up in time of crisis to oppose forces whose overriding method was the maiming, killing and torturing of defenseless civilians.
These black men of RAR fought side by side with their white countrymen for the freedom to make their own political choices. This is the purest form of altruism, or as a Galilean rabbi once said, “Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13, NASB).
After visiting Balla Balla, we traveled on to Llewellin Barracks in Bulawayo. Pegi and I hoped to find housing on the base. However, we were dismayed at the condition of the housing available to NCOs. In a country where everyone had a well-kept lawn and garden, we were shocked to see homes surrounded by dirt instead of grass. The interiors of the houses were even worse!
So, we borrowed Col Woods Peugeot and drove the 20 miles into Bulawayo. Looking through the classified section of the newspaper, we found a beautiful home in the suburb of Matsheumshlope (mats-zoom-slope with an ‘sh’ - py). If I remember correctly, this was Ndebele for “white rocks.” And the home we found certainly fit that description. Our two bedroom modern brick home was on the side of a hill. Instead of grass, most of the property was comprised of huge boulders.
The back yard had some grass for the five dogs we had accumulated by this time. We had two Rhodesian Ridgebacks (Rebel and Sheba), a yellow Labrador Retriever (Dixie), a Springer Spaniel (Woola), and a tiny Cocker Spaniel (Groucho).
Returning to Salisbury, the Army sent a truck and personnel to pack us for our move. We crammed all five dogs into the back of our tiny Austin Mini station wagon. The vet gave us sedatives for the dogs for the five hour ride. We must have mixed up the dosages for the Springer and Cocker Spaniels. While Rebel, Sheba and Dixie snoozed in the back, Woola was awake and perky for the whole trip. It was as if she felt responsible to stay awake and watch over the others. Groucho, the little cocker had to be held most of the trip as he couldn’t even hold up his own head. Yep, we must have mixed up the dosages!
The hardest part of leaving Salisbury was leaving Langton, our gardener whom we had first met in Alex Park. We had become friends, had taken in his younger brother and met his mother. But Langton was Mashona and Bulawayo was the home of the Matabele, a Zulu offshoot tribe. It would be lonely and dangerous for him to move with us. (Follow this link for more on my relationship with Langton.)
We found him another job in Salisbury and said our goodbyes. Years later, back in the US, we were watching a film about Steven Mbeko, a South African political activist who was jailed by the apartheid government. It had been filmed in Zimbabwe. There was a scene of men playing soccer in a field outside an African township. The hills in the background looked like the ones where our home, Kalanyoni, had been. As the scene played on, I swear I saw Langton! He was one of the extras in the scene. I can’t prove it, but I know I saw him. You always recognize a close friend when you see him!
Next: “Muck” and Mire
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