place among this country’s historians, maybe even right up there with Dlamini. Despite the Professor’s warning, the risk can’t be anything to worry about. We are just academics, not soldiers of fortune.
A couple of days after my meeting with Dlamini, I receive a letter from Wisconsin State, telling me that John Peterson has received a well-deserved promotion. He’s going to head the African Studies Program at ucla, one of the best in the country.
I’m happy for Peterson, but I’ve lost a great supervisor and a resolute ally in the trench warfare with academic bureaucracy. John Peterson was the driving force behind my trip to Zimbabwe. He took me under his wing, then made sure I had funding.
Peterson spent ten years in Kenya and Uganda and wrote two books on independent Africa. He shares my enthusiasm for the possibilities of this country. In our discussion about the Prime Minister’s first speech to parliament, he told me Mugabe was destined to become the ‘African Gandhi’.
In his place the university has bestowed on me Professor Geoffrey Latham. Peterson and I used to call him ‘the dinosaur’. He attended Oxford some time before World War ii. Like so many ageing Englishmen, whatever minute traces of passion remain in his soul are reserved for the glory of the British Empire.
Chapter 8
A few days later, I receive a letter from Latham himself.
February 4, 1982
Dear Mr Dabney,
As you are aware, Dr Peterson has left Wisconsin State. Consequently, the university has determined that I will now be responsible for the supervision of your doctoral research and dissertation.
Having read your documentation quite thoroughly, I have a number of concerns. Regrettably, since you have already embarked on your fieldwork, we are unable to communicate in person. Hence, I will have to take a rather uncomfortable but I think vital step of informing you of my concerns in this letter.
My major reservation regarding your overall approach is objectivity. Even your vocabulary shows a definite bias. Terms such as ‘liberation struggle’ and ‘freedom fighters’ reveal preconceived opinions and value judgements which could ultimately compromise the quality of your research as well as your final publication.
Moreover, you seem to revere Mr Mugabe almost as if he were divinely inspired. This is an extremely precarious standpoint from which to proceed on a research project in which Mr Mugabe’s actions and philosophy play such a central role.
Lastly, in your list of prospective interviews, there is a noticeable paucity of individuals affiliated with the previous government (which you refer to as the ‘racist regime’ on six occasions). It seems rather obvious that reconciliation is a two-way process. Therefore, your research should be equally balanced between the groups you call the ‘liberation movement’ (‘insurgents’ or ‘armed opposition’ would be more appropriate terms) and those you deem to have been part of the ‘racist regime’ (I suggest the ‘previous regime’ as a neutral rendering).
In order to proceed further with your research under my supervision, you will have to address these concerns as soon as possible. I urgently request that you contact me within two weeks of the date on this letter to indicate how you plan to address the issues I have noted.
I look forward to hearing from you. I wish you the best in your research. I eagerly await a dissertation of the highest calibre.
Yours faithfully,
Professor GD Latham, PhD (Oxford)
The day after Latham’s letter arrives, I receive a packet of his articles sent by Peterson.
The contents of Peterson’s package aren’t reassuring. In a piece entitled ‘Eulogy for Rhodesia’, Latham lauds the contribution of the all-white Rhodesian Front party to the Southern African region. He characterises Ian Smith, the last white prime minister of Rhodesia – who once promised blacks would not rule the country ‘in a thousand years’ – as a ‘misunderstood maverick with an instinctive feel for life in Africa’.
An enclosed note from Peterson says he’s heard rumours that Latham was a major shareholder in a company that supplied mercenaries to the Rhodesian government during the war against Zanu and Zapu.
I’m in deep. I tear up the first six drafts of my reply. After nine days, I send draft number seven.
March 7, 1982
Dear Professor Latham,
Thank you for your letter of February 4.
I regret that you are not entirely satisfied with my research proposal. Unfortunately, I am not wholly persuaded by your explanation as to why I should alter my approach.
My main concern is the issue of Mr Mugabe. I will not deny that I hold him in very high esteem. For any man to endure a decade of unjust incarceration and then preach a gospel of reconciliation toward his captors is truly remarkable. I wish there were more Robert Mugabes in this world.
Nonetheless, if my research should reveal shortcomings or contradictions in his actions of which I am not currently aware, I will be open to changing my perspective.
With regard to my interviewees, I admit to a bias in selection. In my view, the black population is the key to reconciliation. They are in power. They were the victims in the past. Their actions will largely determine whether Zimbabwe succeeds on its path of reconciliation or plunges into further bloodshed and hatred. The whites can, however, play an important role if they choose to accept Mr Mugabe’s terms. Let us hope they do.
Despite these biases, I have not excluded whites from my interview list. I have just not given them equal status. Considering they comprise less than two per cent of the population of Zimbabwe, I think this is quite justified. I trust you will agree.
In conclusion, while I appreciate your concern and your interest in my work, I am confident I am on the right track. I assure you I will produce what you desire – a dissertation of the highest calibre.
Sincerely,
Ben Dabney, PhD student
Chapter 9
The brightly lit reading room of the National Archives of Zimbabwe seats twenty people in numbered chairs. I’m No. 14. Rules allow pencils only. The assistant director, a giant marshmallow of a man named Chambers, sits in an office with a huge window overlooking the reading room. If he spots a researcher taking notes with a Bic or a Paper Mate he can ban him for life. My single No. 2 lead pencil will have to shoulder the burden of my quest to record all there is to know about Elias Tichasara.
My counterparts are half a dozen middle-aged white researchers and one young Asian. A stack of yellowed newspapers partially hides the Asian. I have a long list of documents – enough to keep me in chair No. 14 for months. Though I am focused on Tichasara, I’ve also acquired material on Mugabe, Manyeche and several other leaders. There are no entries under ‘Matshaka, Florence’ in the card catalogue.
Apart from the rustle of paper, only the occasional grinding of the Boston pencil sharpener breaks the silence. I think it’s the same model we had in my fourth grade classroom.
I start with a piece from the Chicago Tribune which refers to Mugabe as a ‘fanatic communist terrorist’. My snickering at this phrase brings reproachful glances from the other researchers.
Tichasara, I discover, did not pass away at just any random moment in the liberation war. When he died, in November 1979, he was travelling from a Zanu military camp to the city of Beira, Mozambique. From there he was to catch a flight to London to join the Zanu delegates in the negotiations that ultimately consolidated the Lancaster House agreement on Zimbabwe’s independence.
‘What if he had lived?’ the author of one article speculated. ‘Could the presence of one man have turned the tide of this newly independent country’s history?’ Questions like those have tortured historians for ages. If there was no Hitler, would there have been a Nazi Germany? I have no