The purpose of documenting this heartsearing reality is to give voice to the hundreds of thousands of Zimbabweans who have lost everything. - Eric “Harry” Harrison, farmer and author of Jambanja

“War veterans” storming Eric Harrison’s farm Maioio, in Zimbabwe 2004. Photo: Eric Harrison

Parked in his drive was a small blue utility truck, which had ghosted in unheard, with two armed policemen sitting in the back and four occupants in the front.

Harry could see that the newcomers were not here for a social visit. In the background stood Harry’s old security guard Joseph, dressed in his faded denim overalls and looking very sheepish. Usually, under no circumstances would anyone get through that gate, unless he reported to Harry first but, there wasn’t much the guard could have done when he had an AK rifle held to his head.

The apparent leader of this group was a short, stocky, well-dressed individual wearing a floppy white hat and ambled over to where Harry was standing on the back veranda. Harry felt Joan come to his side, her hand gripping his wrist.

He didn’t say a word as Whitehat stepped forward

“We are the new owners of Maioio Farm,” he said menacingly, as he pointed to the other three.

“You have got 24 hours to get off – now move it!”[…]

“Go and get stuffed, where are your papers?” Harry called to Whitehat acidly, fighting to keep his voice under control. He was referring to the extradition order that every farmer was supposed to receive before an eviction. Officially speaking, there was still some form of legal procedure.

Waving a piece of paper belligerently in front of him, Whitehat answered:

“This is my Offer-letter. Look, it is signed by the Minister of Agriculture.”

Harry had a brief look at the document before Whitehat snatched it back. It said in bold writing the name Guno Matunda and that he worked for the Presidential Office, another name for the Central Intelligence Organisation (CIO). [...]

Harry turned to one of the policeman, constable Chitsungu, whom he had met on a number of occasions in more pleasant circumstances. The constable was always neatly dressed, had a good sense of humour and had always been helpful in other matters over the years. He was still trying to keep his voice under control:

“Constable Chitsungu, please escort these men out of here and return with the right documents. I have done everything by the letter of the law, now you do your job and tell them to get an extradition order. I will not move until then.”

The look he got from Chitsungu told him that he was wasting his time talking to him, especially in front of the new visitors. Chitsungu was not in the mood to get involved or, to put it more bluntly, he was not able to get involved.

It was Whitehat who made the next move:

“Harrison, we will be back and you, my friend, will be sorry.”

It was on the 1st of July, 2004, when Eric “Harry” Harrison and his wife Joan received the visit just described on their farm Maioio in Mkwasine, about 500 kilometers southeast of Harare in Zimbabwe. It was a farm which Harry had been building for many years and which had demanded hard work, much care and great knowledge to make it work well. He was busy packing oranges for export to Russia, when the uninvited guests showed up.

Oranges from Eric Harrison’s farm packed for export to Russia. Photo: Eric Harrison Jambanja

Menacing guests who didn’t possess even a rudimentary knowledge of how to build or run such a farm. People who, invoking Mugabe’s land redistribution policies, were there to routinely seize one more well-managed farm owned by whites.

After the visit Harry called the police and contacted a lawyer to dispute the attempt to seize his farm. He was not willing to surrender his life’s work to a bunch of hooligans. But shortly after the four intruders headed by Whitehat showed up at the Maioio farm once again, this time armed with iron bars. They threw a three-year-old girl against a wall and ruthlessly assaulted her desperately screaming mother. Nobody dared intervene or they risked becoming the assailants’ next victim, not even the policemen that were present and who Harry was screaming at to stop the attack.

Sometime later when Harry and Joan were at home with their son and some friends who had come to offer their support and help, the lights went out and they could hear an African mob closing in on the house, chanting “Eh-ha-eh-ha – chunga chunga chunga rah!” A so-called revolutionary war song. Suddenly the chanting stopped and the mob started banging the doors and windows of the house. After a couple of horror-filled hours for Harry, his family and friends the mob went away, but a short while after, the doorbell rang. It was Whitehat, a couple of policemen and the mob. Whitehat was screaming at Harry:

“White man, you get out of here or there will be serious consequences for you!”

The terror against the white farmer Harry was in full swing.

The days passed and the pressure on Henry increased. New threatening demands were made for him to be evicted in 24 hours. On one occasion, when Harry had been out searching for one of his loyal employees whom he hadn’t seen for a while, Harry was assaulted only 400 meters away from the gates of his farm by Whitehat and one if his cronies. They accused him of trespassing on “their” farm. They started to beat Harry up and threatened to kill him and meanwhile more blacks joined in. But Harry got out his pepper spray and managed to put up some resistance. Unfortunately it had little effect on the mob who by now wanted to kill him screaming:

“Kufa maBhunu!” (Kill the white bastard!)

The mob went on beating Harry up, and Joan – whom Harry had managed to radio for help on his hand-held – rushed into the house to call for help. Harry, who by now was almost unconscious, was thrown onto the back of a truck by the mob and was driven to the local police station. On the way there Harry was beaten up again. Meanwhile, neighbours and friends who had heard Joan’s calls for help over the radio had come to her rescue. By climbing a two-meter high wall the 63-year old Joan was saved from a mob on the way to the house screaming:

”Come back here, you fucking white bitch!!”

One more attack ignored by the Mugabian “police- and justice system”, as well as by European and US media who otherwise never miss a chance to report on hate crimes.

The incidents described above are excerpts from Jambanja, an autobiography by Eric ”Harry” Harrison, depicting his life as a white farmer in Robert Mugabe’s Zimbabwe. We follow Harry in the events of his life, starting in 1959 when he goes off for his military service in Rhodesia, as Zimbabwe was called formerly. A couple of months earlier, he had met his future wife and life companion, Joan, who is to be the mother of his three children and who holds natural place in Harry’s story. The loyalty within their family is touching and shows that where there is love there is something worth fighting for.

The book depicts Harry’s path to the farmer’s profession and the tremendous trials he and other whites have been made to endure under the Mugabe regime. The title of the book, Jambanja refers to Robert Mugabe’s so called ”war veterans”, who set out to violently seize white farms. Many of these jambanja were not even born at the time of the civil war at the end of the 1970’s. The story tells of how white farmers Martin Olds and Terry Ford were shot to death by consent of the Mugabe regime after which their murderers of course still are at large.

Black ”war veterans” outside the gates of the Maioio farm in Zimbabwe, 2004. Photo: Eric Harrison Jambanja

Blacks seize well-kept farms, including livestock and movables as well as personal belongings and heirlooms collected over one or many generations. As soon as the new owners have established themselves, the farms start deteriorating, the land grows over with weeds and the livestock is left untended. And under their new masters the black farm workers lose their homes, food source and wages and must starve.

Jambanja is an almost unimaginable description of how a country in only two decades and in almost every area falls from civilization to barbarism.

Harry’s struggle to keep his farm is hard and unfair. Working on his own, with only the help of his family and courageous friends, noble Harry is forced to fight against the uncivilized structure of an African regime. Truly not an easy task, which is clearly depicted in the book. The African man’s lack of understanding of how the white man succeeds in creating flourishing civilizations is evident in the experiences that Harry has to endure in his contacts with the representatives of Mugabe’s new order.

Finally Harry is put on trial for having resided “illegally” on his own property and he tells a graphic story of the events at the “trial” where the audience is screaming at him:

“Kunyepa ma Bhunu!” (Liar, you white pig!)

Harry’s lawyer Charles Kwindinge, who himself has been threatened by the Mugabe regime, is skilful and brave but it is not enough. Harry’s case becomes another head-line: “Farmare loses case”; as if the verdict was the result of a proper and decent legal system. In actuality it was just another confirmation of how far the deterioration of the Zimbabwean society had gone.

Jambanja tells a life story that should leave no one untouched. It’s a strong, thrilling and tragic tale that contributes to affording us some understanding of Harry’s fate and those of many others in Zimbabwe. Of Zimbabwe’s former 4500 white farmers now only a few hundred remain in the country. Harry writes:

“How sad it is to think that people with so much talent, so much to offer this country have had to go elsewhere in the world…”

The Harrison family’s farm Maioio in Mkwasine, Zimbabwe. Photo: Eric Harrison Jambanja

A great joy and profit derived from reading this book is its making you see what kind of man Harry is. He represents the best that humanity has to offer; an exceedingly civilized citizen sprung from European stock, raised in Rhodesia, a country so despised by the “international community”, but none the less a thriving and civilized country. He is industrious, kind, loyal to his family and workers, loving in his relationship with his farm and country. Amidst all the misery Harry manages to keep his sense of humor and to smile at that almost unbelievable stupidity now ruling Zimbabwe.

The author does not enter deeply into political analysis but merely states:

“The question has to be asked: Has this Government, really done its indigenous people any favours by implementing the Land Reform in the manner that they did? Did they honestly think that the people taking over the farms have the skills, the knowledge or experience to make a success of their newly acquired properties, without any training at all? What of all the downstream businesses which depended on agriculture? If those people fail, who would pay the taxes, the day to day bills every farmer has to meet? What of the workers and their children? Have they got a future?

The answer to all of these, is a resounding – No!”

If you’ve never before read a book about Rhodesia or never before understood what has taken place in the country since it was renamed Zimbabwe, read this book! The author refrains from political generalizations but instead bases his story on concrete experiences and episodes when describing the decline of the country. Harry’s story is an eye-opener and should be read not only by those interested in Rhodesiana, but by politicians and decision-makers in the Western World for the simple reason that it makes clear the future consequences of the population policy decisions they have made and go on making; decisions that jeopardize the future of the European peoples.

Kenneth Wallgren

Contact Eric “Harry” Harrison at erharrison (at ) zol.co.zw