The fish and the water – How today’s freedom fighters still need the people’s support

​For Zimbabwe’s liberation struggle to succeed, particularly during the decisive and grueling phase of the 1970s, there was one essential component that outweighed even the most sophisticated weaponry.

If you value my social justice advocacy and writing, please consider a financial contribution to keep it going. Contact me on WhatsApp: +263 715 667 700 or Email: mbofana.tendairuben73@gmail.com

Without this single element, the entire war of independence would have crumbled in its infancy.

The struggle would have succumbed either to the sheer difficulty of recruiting freedom fighters or to the reality of gallant boys and girls deserting the cause due to a deprivation of life’s most basic essentials.

Fighting on the frontlines against a vicious and vindictive regime is never a simple feat.

We must remember that in those days, despite the financial and material support trickling in from various sympathetic nations, the resources were never truly adequate.

Those at the front were often left to face the enemy virtually on their own, relying solely on the communities in which they operated for food, clothing, shelter, and the intelligence necessary for their very survival.

This profound symbiosis is why the people were likened to the water and the freedom fighters to the fish.

The fish derived its very life from the water that sustained, hid, and nourished it.

As much as Zimbabwe eventually attained its political independence from the colonial master forty-six years ago, the celebratory songs have long since faded into a haunting silence.

The repressive and predatory tendencies of the old era have not vanished but have instead persisted and evolved.

Today, the people of Zimbabwe remain captives in their own country, shackled by decades of increasing poverty, a lack of decent employment, a collapsed public health care system, and infrastructure that is crumbling before our eyes.

In the midst of this widespread suffering, those in power have continued to suck the life out of the nation through unrestrained and unashamed looting of national resources.

They live in a state of vulgar opulence that stands in insulting contrast to the hunger of the masses.

Those who dare to speak out or stand up against this modern form of hupambepfumi are dealt with swiftly and maliciously.

In this environment, it was inevitable that a new breed of freedom fighters would be born.

These individuals do not fight using guns, grenades, or bombs.

Their weapons are their pens and their voices.

Yet, they face the same persecution, overtly or covertly, while suffering the same deprivation as their predecessors from the 1970s.

To be fair, there are those standing against our modern-day oppression who are well-oiled through massive foreign donor funding.

They often live quite comfortably, even if they are not entirely immune to state repression and the persistent threat of persecution.

However, there is another breed of today’s freedom fighter—the one who is truly independent and does not receive a cent of donor funding.

These are the individuals who have intentionally chosen the path of independence to avoid the control and subtle pressures of donors.

Many donor objectives are not truly altruistic and do not always align with the raw, unfiltered quest for social justice that these freedom fighters represent.

Choosing this path presents its own unique and staggering set of challenges.

Just like the fighters of the 1970s, this generation faces deprivation in nearly every aspect of life, all while living under the constant shadow of the oppressor’s vicious tentacles.

I can share a personal example of how this choice manifests in reality.

My first real experience of how social justice advocacy could adversely affect my personal life occurred when I relocated to South Africa in the late 2000s, during the peak of Zimbabwe’s hyperinflation era.

While I worked across the Limpopo, I began contributing powerful social justice articles to The Zimbabwean newspaper, speaking truth to power at a time when that publication was widely read before facing severe state reprisals.

I also used Facebook as a platform to voice my strong views on the dire situation back home.

This activism soon caught the attention of my South African employer—a church-linked NGO that was, amongst many other things, involved in delivering food aid to starving Zimbabweans.

They were not impressed.

They viewed my writings as a direct threat to their mission, fearing that if the Zimbabwean regime discovered my employment with them, the entire organization would be barred from entering the country with food.

Even though I was not part of the food aid division, the risk was deemed too high.

The head of the organization called me into a meeting and asked if I stood by the things I had written.

I responded with an emphatic and heartfelt yes.

He then asked if I was prepared to stop my writing, as it was jeopardizing the organization’s work and my own job.

My reply was an unequivocal no.

With that, I was dismissed from my job and ordered to vacate the organization’s housing that very day.

I left with nothing but my convictions.

Although my life in South Africa became a living hell from that moment onward, I have never regretted my stance for a free Zimbabwe for a single second, even when it meant facing the sharpest edges of economic hardship.

That experience was merely the beginning of the rest of my story.

Even today, the consequences of independence remain heavy.

Most institutions and companies refuse to associate with me because they fear persecution by the state.

Even some of my own close relatives who occupy top positions in various sectors have been painfully honest with me.

They have told me directly that because of my writings, they cannot open any doors or opportunities for me.

They simply cannot afford the risk of being linked to a voice that the state considers a nuisance.

This is the reality of the path I have taken.

It is frequently a lonely and thankless struggle.

Yet, I must repeat that I have absolutely no regrets.

However, just as the freedom fighters of yesterday discovered, independent voices cannot survive outside of the water.

The people are that water.

We need the support of the people for our very sustenance.

This is not merely about moral encouragement; it is about the tangible, material resources—financial support, tools for communication, and basic living essentials—that allow an independent voice to remain functional when all other doors to an income have been slammed shut.

Without that direct support, we do not just struggle; we eventually fizzle out and wither away.

It is vital for the public to understand the reality behind the seemingly brave voices for freedom they see on their screens or read in their papers.

It is not a rosy life.

It is a life of sacrifice, often lived on the margins.

Nonetheless, the fight for a better Zimbabwe for every citizen is a cause worth every hardship.

​I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge those few who have stood by me during these dark and difficult days.

It is important to note that many of these supporters are not people of plenty or wealth; in fact, some are struggling significantly themselves.

Yet, because they so deeply value the work I do and the cause of justice in Zimbabwe, they choose to share the little they have to keep this voice alive.

Your support is something I will treasure forever.

People like me are the fish, and we will never be able to make it without the people who provide the water we need to swim, to breathe, and to continue the fight.

• Tendai Ruben Mbofana is a social justice advocate and writer. To directly receive his articles please join his WhatsApp Channel on: https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VaqprWCIyPtRnKpkHe08