Fair Feels Good

My Uncle Pat, a white farmer in Zimbabwe, calls us “bombshell families”. The situation in Zimbabwe gets worse every day, causing families to explode all over the world - pieces of every family in every corner, a Zimbabwean in every port.

Its not our choice - if we had our way, we would not be “when-we’s”; we would be “still-we’s.”

“When-we’s” were originally from a comic book drawn sometime after 1980, based on ex-Rhodesians. An illustrated spoof of those who fled in terror of the idea of a Black Majority Rule, of name changes, of independent Africa. When life on the other side of the border (or either pond) was not quite as expected with its own fair share of difficulties, the flocks of ex-Rhodies stuck together in groups and remembered the good old days: “When We Were in Rhodesia…..” — and so became a new sub-culture: “The When-We’s”.

The rest of us remaining in country through the transition into independence became known as the “die hards”. We reveled in the African sunshine, entertained around the braai (bbq), climbed Chimanimani, learned the names of antelope and rallied to save the rhino. We ran businesses, went to good private schools and lived in a era of not-quite colonialist, not-quite indigenous. My brother recently commented that we had it so good, we didn’t even know it. Yes, we had our struggles, traumas and life changing events - and through it all we developed strong White Zimbabwean spirits - to make a plan, no matter what life (or the dictator) throws at us.

For many of us, that plan was to leave. Reluctantly we packed bags, looked over our shoulders and vowed to be back as soon as there is a change in government. 28 years later we are still waiting for the change, we follow the news of the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) with bated breath, donating money and bits of support where we can.

There are few “die hards” remaining in Zimbabwe. The lucky ones get away - but not without a price. Although we are not facing starvation like our fellow Zimbabweans, we were forced to give up our essence, our love for our country.

They say you can take the African out of Africa, but you can never take Africa out of the African. For those of us in bombshell existence, the question remains - will we ever feel at home again?