RE: The Zimbabwean Story
The last time I was back home was in 1989.
I use the word home because it was for most of my childhood and teenage years.
I was there through the 'freedom fighter' times but on the other side.
Yes I'm a white man out of Africa.
I miss the huge blue sky, the vast horizons and the people.
White or black didn't and still doesn't matter to me.
I see warm wonderful people in my minds eye and my thoughts are still with you.
I wish I hadn't left but I had to. There was no future there for me.
So now I sit and reminisce and remember sitting with the 'garden boy', my friend and confidant, looking out over the valley below dotted with kopjes.
Sitting quietly in peace listening to, but not hearing, the cicadas buzz their lives away. The days of peace and my childhood.
Morgan bring it back for your people.
My childhood is gone but the memories aren't.
Maybe some day I'll return, before I get too old, to a peaceful prosperous Zimbabwe filled with laughing children and friendly faces.