Bitter Harvest

by Ian Smith

  A stimulating visit on 13 July, however, from a couple of very bright Americans representing certain senators and members of their House of Representatives, offered Muzorewa a useful opening. In the last week a motion in their Senate to remove sanctions against Rhodesia was narrowly defeated by 48 to 42, and they were preparing another attempt. There was a plan to send Muzorewa over for some media coverage and contact with his church friends. This idea was supported by a long-distance call from Senator Garn, who was clear and positive in his support for Rhodesia and made no bones about his condemnation of Carter’s attempts to appease their black voters, no matter what the cost.

  A political meeting in Bulawayo on Saturday morning, 22 July, gave me a welcome chance in the afternoon to see Rhodesia beat Western Transvaal in a stirring game of rugby. I sat next to Johan Claasen, who had been a great Springbok lock-forward in his day and was now a lecturer at Potchefstroom University. I found him a charming, quiet, unemotional gentleman. We enjoyed talking rugby and philosophising on politics in between all the action. On the flight home that evening a few of my ministerial colleagues were aboard the plane, and we talked about the past and present. One of them, a South African by birth, recalled how I had warned Vorster at a meeting at ‘Libertas’ in 1974 of the communist tactic of dominos, knocking over one by one until they arrived at their ultimate objective. Vorster had replied that this time it was different — the blacks to our north needed South Africa’s help, and in return they had given him their word! My colleague commented: ‘Everything you predicted has come to pass. The South Africans, for so long living in an ivory tower, have not had the same contact and experience with blacks as we have. At last they seem to be coming to their senses — hopefully not too late.’

  The South Africans were now acting as a conduit for the British. On Monday morning, 31 July, I had a meeting with Brand Fourie, the South African Secretary for Foreign Affairs, who had flown up from Pretoria. He and Pik Botha had been in America the previous week, where they had discussed Rhodesia with Vance and Owen, who had suggested that Nkomo and I were the two who could solve the problem. Owen wanted to fly in to Salisbury at the coming weekend with Nkomo for a confidential meeting with me. Fourie said the South Africans had no strong feelings one way or the other, and would leave the decision to me. They had simply agreed to convey the message. My reply was simple and straight: I was not prepared to do anything behind the backs of my executive council colleagues. Moreover, we were constantly on guard over anything in which the British were implicated — so many times we had made agreements with them, only to find that they had left us in the lurch because of pressure from the OAU.

  The internal security situation was grim and was brought home to me twice on Thursday 3 August. A delegation of farmers from the north-eastern area came to see me, as they were concerned over a new trend. Because the terrorists had consistently failed in their efforts to dislodge the farmers, they had now resorted to intimidating the labour, even to the extent of killing some of them in order to indicate what would happen to those who did not obey instructions. The labourers were strong in their resolution to stand their ground, but the farmers believed that some security assistance would be necessary. I assured them that the matter would receive immediate attention. After holding the position so effectively for so many years, and with the possibility of a settlement in sight, I promised them that we would continue to give them maximum support. That afternoon there was a meeting with the Nat JOC, and they impressed on me their concern over the lack of success with the ceasefire campaign. They said that the black political parties in the transitional government appeared to lack motivation and were clearly not putting in enough effort. This was adding fuel to general despondency and a continuing drop in morale among the white community, and, associated with this, our emigration figures were running high. I was alarmed to hear that as a result we had reached the situation where we were losing one territorial company of our fighting men per month. This was an intolerable situation. With our small white population we simply did not have the manpower to sustain this loss, with the result that our performance in the security field would decline, and this would obviously play into the hands of the terrorists.

  That night I was more depressed than I could previously recall. But clearly it was something I must keep to myself, because the last thing we wanted was any damage to the wonderful morale and fighting spirit of our Rhodesians. There was only one answer: continue, in fact increase, our efforts in the settlement field. There was to be another meeting of combined executive council and ministerial council a few days hence, and in spite of all the frustrations we would keep up the pressure for greater effort in the ceasefire campaign. And there was always the possibility of bringing Nkomo into our plan, and I was watching this very closely. These were the positive aspects, and if we had a breakthrough the whole scene could change.

  Within two days, on Saturday 5 August, there were positive moves. I received a message from Derrick Robinson in London: Nkomo would like to meet me in Zambia next weekend. I said, ‘Fine,’ providing it was cleared with Kaunda, bearing in mind that he had had to do some explaining after my last visit to Lusaka.

  Sunday 6 August brought a visit from John Graham and Steven Low (the British and US envoys) to inform me of their recent visit to London, where they held discussions with Vance and Owen. Their conclusion was that it would be desirable to hold a meeting of the six heads of delegations (the four internal settlement parties and ZANU and ZAPU), either at Kaunda’s lodge in Luangwa Valley or one of the British stations on Cyprus. I concurred that the time was favourable — there had been positive resolutions in the US Senate and House of Representatives, and in the House of Commons the Labour government had narrowly defeated (only by six votes) a resolution in our favour. Therefore I promised I would put the matter to the executive council at our next meeting. This pleased them.

  At the joint meeting of the executive council and ministerial council on Monday 7 August, there was again some strong talking: we were falling down because my black colleagues were not delivering the goods on the ceasefire, for the obvious reason that they were too busy fighting one another with an eye on the coming election. The result was that the Patriotic Front was having a free ride. My repetition of this fact was becoming tedious. Were they able to deliver the goods, or was it necessary for us to make a new plan? Gabellah made an excellent contribution, ending up by saying that at the rate we were now performing: ‘Not one of the present three black leaders, including my own, will be the next prime minister.’ Magaramombe came in strongly: ‘Over the past month our parties, through internal fighting and inadequate positive effort, have been losing support to the Patriotic Front.’ The meeting continued all day, and finally I stressed that at our next meeting there had to be positive results, otherwise drastic changes would be necessary.

  There was some good news: that evening the two Chiefs, Chirau and Ndweni, gave me a report on their London trip. They had had good receptions from Owen and Margaret Thatcher, and two meetings with Nkomo and the Nigerian Garba. All were positive in believing that we should get on with it.

  At a further joint executive committee and ministerial committee meeting on 10 August, we attempted to take up things that had been raised the previous week. The proposal before us was: all four internal parties should come together as a United Front, work together and speak together on the same platforms in support of the ceasefire and safe-return policy. Chirau and Sithole were both in support, so we then looked at Muzorewa for his decision. After long contemplation he made his contribution: ‘I have nothing to say!’ It would have been laughable had our situation not been so desperately serious. He was the leader of the party which, it was believed, had the greatest support of our black people, and the raison d’être of the meeting, after adjournment for one week, was to receive answers to the question. He was sitting next to me, so turning to him I said quietly: ‘We must have some decision from you.’ To which he replied equally quietly: ‘Bu
t I would rather not say anything.’ It was extraordinary, with all the other members of the meeting looking at him in disbelief. Then one of his own UANC representatives on the ministerial council said to him: ‘You must give us some answer.’ As always, when he found himself in a position where he had no option, he produced a long rigmarole, going around in circles, and finally said that he had to have confidential meetings with first, myself, second with the joint Ministers of Law and Order, Hilary Squires and Francis Zindoga, and then he would give his answer at our meeting next week.

  At our executive committee meeting that followed, I gave details of the plans which were being mooted for me to meet Nkomo and Kaunda in Zambia. It was my assessment that it could yield beneficial results, but I did not want to do anything behind their backs. In fact Chirau and Sithole had held meetings with Nkomo. Muzorewa was the only one to show apprehension — if it leaked out, people might think I was conniving with Nkomo. Sithole’s thoughts were in the contrary direction — some of his erstwhile friends were accusing him of being a stooge in working with Smith, and this would enable him to retort that the same applied to Nkomo!

  A report from our information department people raised questions. It indicated concern that the monopoly Argus Press was constantly swiping at our transitional government with destructive criticism and pessimistic forecasts of the future. From the Rhodesian Front standpoint, they had always been our deadly opponents, constantly propounding a left-wing, ultra-liberal philosophy. But now we were doing what they had consistently suggested: handing over to a black government. We were working with the most responsible black people available, under a plan which aimed at retaining the confidence of our white people and ensuring good government. The alternative was to hand over to the terrorists, and accept a Marxist-Leninist dictatorship. Is this what the Argus Press wanted?

  Momentum was gathering on the meeting with Nkomo. On Friday 11 August, Gaylard showed me the plan for our visit. Take-off was to be early Sunday morning and it was less than an hour’s flight to Kaunda’s personal camp in the Luangwa Game Park. Nkomo and the Nigerian Garba would be present. That was fine by me. However, the next day, there was a telephone call from Gaylard to say there had been a panic message from Zambia calling it off — the Nigerian could not arrive in time. On Sunday 13 August, there was a message to say that Kaunda had arrived back from the Pope’s funeral, and had sent a message apologising for the inept planning. Could we fly up the following evening, spend the night having meetings, and return next morning? This suited me — we had to explore every avenue, and this was just one more. If our local parties failed to deliver the goods, this could provide the answer. However, it was important for me to keep the internal scene viable, otherwise my bargaining position would be weakened.

  We landed just after dark the following evening, Monday 14 August, as they hoped to keep the visit secret. It was a long drive, about forty minutes, to their State House on the other side of Lusaka. We were taken in to a big lounge where Nkomo came forward and greeted me, and introduced me to Brigadier Garba from Nigeria. He was a pleasant, tall individual, dressed in a colourful outfit with a kind of slit cap on his head. He had a good command of the English language, which was not surprising considering he was a Sandhurst graduate and a Foreign Ministry representative who had spent much time at the UN. He said that, judging from photographs he had seen, I had not changed much in appearance from the days when I was flying Spitfires in the RAF. Clearly, he was well trained in the necessary graces and diplomacy of foreign affairs. Kaunda then entered and was most affable, and we chatted for a while.

  As soon as there was a break in the conversation I suggested that because of the time factor we should get on with the business at hand, and Kaunda readily agreed. He had come, he said, to stress the importance of what we were doing, and his hopes were that we would succeed. There were two points he wished to make before leaving us: first, his disappointment that after our last meeting, nearly a year ago, when he was led to believe that I had taken the initiative in making the plan, I had subsequently deviated from the arrangement. I immediately corrected him, pointing out that it was Rowland of Lonrho who had taken the initiative and, at a meeting held in Salisbury, placed before me proposals which he claimed had Kaunda’s support. At our subsequent meeting I had found that support was not forthcoming. Fortunately both Gaylard and Robinson, who had liaised with Rowland in making the arrangements, were present, and they substantiated my account.

  Second, Kaunda expressed his disappointment that time had been wasted because I had turned down a meeting with Nkomo in view of the fact that Garba was to be present. I expressed astonishment at what appeared to me to be a fabrication, and again looked to Gaylard and Robinson, who had dealt with all of these arrangements, and they confirmed my belief that this was a trumped-up story with no foundation. I had to express my concern that there were people close to Kaunda who were twisting the truth, maybe in an attempt to protect themselves. Kaunda was obviously embarrassed, and apologised, and then took his leave of us.

  We then got down to serious business, with both Nkomo and Garba making constructive contributions with ideas that were balanced and in keeping with my own thoughts. We broke at 9 p.m. for supper and Kaunda joined us for a pleasant, sociable occasion. When he left us he volunteered to return at any time if we needed his assistance. We talked until after midnight, and produced a plan which I thought was workable, bringing both Nkomo and Mugabe into our existing arrangement. Nkomo thought that he and I should be joint co-chairmen, but I discouraged that idea, saying that I believed he would gain the necessary support on his own credentials.

  My final question: it was all very well for those of us present to come to a consensus, but did they believe that Mugabe and his wild boys would go along with such an arrangement? Without hesitation Garba asked if I could return the coming Saturday, 19 August. If so he would fly to Maputo in his VIP jet the next day, Tuesday 14 August, hold meetings with Machel and Mugabe, and be back here in Lusaka with Mugabe to confirm our agreement. I thought it would work — Nigeria was the most powerful and influential member of the OAU and with Kaunda as the main participant in the Rhodesian affair, and also an influential member of the OAU, the prospects looked good. I agreed to hold myself available for a meeting on Saturday.

  We had a wait of a few hours, because we were due to take off at 5 a.m. before light. Kaunda had stressed the need for absolute secrecy, telling us, if it leaked out and we were questioned, that we should deny the meeting. This was a surprising change from last time, when he said just to be straightforward and honest, to tell the truth. They took me to the VIP suite for a rest, but my mind was too active, thinking of the meeting and contemplating the future. The accommodation for their top guests left much to be desired. While the framework was there, the upkeep and service were lacking, with the gauze on the windows in shreds, the bathroom dirty, with a small piece of soap and one hand towel for both shower and basin. A third-grade hotel in Rhodesia would have given better and cleaner service. The road to the airport was pitted with pot-holes, strewn with stones, and with dust flying everywhere. There were shanty towns on both sides of the road, with filth and rubbish dominant; a tragic deterioration from the days when the country had been called Northern Rhodesia.

  The usual difficulty arose. On Thursday 17 August, Gaylard came to me to say that Derrick Robinson had received a message from Lusaka to say that the meeting arranged for Saturday was now off. Nyerere had objected, saying that it was going to put Nkomo in a preferential position to Mugabe. That was a twist, because they would have been in parallel positions. The problem, as explained to me on more than one occasion, was that Nyerere was the dominant personality, and in his presence Kaunda took a back seat. We had thought that with Nigeria and their man in the driving seat, they would call the tune. But we were wrong, and so were Garba and Kaunda. I was not all that taken aback, because I had lived in Africa all my life.

  There was some relief for me. On 18 August I enjoyed a
rewarding trip to Bulawayo to open the annual Rhodesian Front fête, with strong support from the general public and enthusiastic work from all our wonderful party supporters. It was an absolute tonic to witness the dedication and optimism of our loyal people, especially considering the difficult times through which we were living. The next day, I enjoyed watching a great game of rugby in Salisbury against Eastern Province (South Africa) played in festival mood, as both teams were out of the running for the Currie Cup.

  On Sunday afternoon, I received a phone call asking if I could go to Lusaka for a meeting, as Mugabe and Garba had arrived back from Nigeria. Surely, I asked, these people did not think that we could lay this kind of thing on at five minutes’ notice? I requested them please to inform us whether it had been agreed to accept the plan we made last week, in which case I would travel up to Lusaka the next day to finalise arrangements. Or, I wondered, had they concocted some newfangled ideas which they would try to foist on us? If so, we would send a couple of our chaps up to find out if it was worthwhile.

  The South Africans intruded. The four executive committee members met Pik Botha and Brand Fourie at New Sarum at 8.15 a.m. on 24 August. Pik started as usual by saying that they did not want to interfere in our affairs, but that they were concerned that we did not seem to be making progress with our plan, and so were wondering why we were opposed to an all-party conference. Clearly, Kaunda and his cohorts had requested the South Africans to pressurise us. We all spoke, reminding them of how much work we had put into our internal agreement, that it was a going concern and had received support in the US Congress, and a near-majority in the House of Commons, and we believed it was important for us to keep going. If we could gain some support from the leading free world countries, and also from South Africa, that would ensure our success. Our reply was clear and unequivocal, albeit not what the South Africans had hoped for.