An Alien In The Land Of My Birth...

This weekend I read a very interesting email of an article written by a Zimbabwean living in South Africa. He spoke about his love of his homeland and of his confusion regarding his son's want to call South Africa 'home' when he was born in Zimbabwe.

I can sympathise with his feelings as I find myself 'twixt and between.

I was born in the United Kingdom, but was less than 2 years old when we emigrated to then Rhodesia - even before Ian Douglas Smith declared UDI. I have no memories of England whatsoever.

Everything that I am and have learned has been Africa. I speak like an African, think like an African and behave like and African. And before anyone states the obvious, no, I do not act like the “big white conqueror”... in fact, whilst in Africa, I befriended some of the finest people I have ever met, and the vast majority of them were black.

It was compulsory at High School to learn the local language, which, for me, was chiShona.

When I left school less than a year after Zimbabwe's independence, I joined the newly formed Zimbabwe Republic Police and was posted after training, in late 1981, to Matabeleland South province. I found myself in a 'foreign' Province (admittedly at my own request), and so I set about learning the local language, iSindebele - about at different from chiShona as Welsh is from English.

zimbabwe passport JRBtL 16744

When I left Matabeleland some four years later, whilst not altogether fluent, I was able to make myself understood in the local language..

I moved back to Harare in early 1985, and then later did four years in Masvingo Province, a year and a half in Manicaland and then back to Harare in Mashonaland. As a result, I found myself well-rounded when it came to the various languages and dialects in a passable manner. (Ndebele, though, does remain my favourite.)

Having now left the shores of Africa some twelve years-plus ago, I find it a little confusing that people discover that I am born here and then they cannot understand why I don't have a Kentish accent!

Another thing that we all learned in Africa was that if anything was worth doing, it was worth doing yourself. And here in the United Kingdom I am hardly allowed to touch anything unless I have the requisite NVQ's (National Vocational Qualification), a City & Guilds qualification, or a university degree!

So - living here, in the land of my birth, I do feel somewhat of a 'furriner'... and, as a direct result of that feeling, I do tend to be somewhat reclusive.

Okay, my physical disability doesn't help as I tend to avoid crowds and crowded places – after all, there is no need for me to add to my problems, is there?

I am proud of having grown up in Africa, and am proud of being a Zimbabwean. For thirty-four years I lived in that beautiful country, and we only left because I could no longer guarantee to safety of my family.

I may live in the United Kingdom with it's cold, dank environment and it's perpetual rainfall and dampness, but in my mind, I run free in the wonderful African sun and it's unexplored savannah and native bush.

I remain, without any doubt, an African... and an alien in the land of my birth.

Robb WJ Ellis

The Bearded Man