Brief Background Profile

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Luveve, Bulawayo, Zimbabwe
Easy to socialise with, don't like too much repetition, very energetic, very passionate about my work and friends. Very open minded but opinionated. Principled and believe in honesty..saying it like it is..

Sunday, 29 August 2010

Diary of the life of a son (teenager) of a President (extracts from my book)




It’s a lazy Sunday morning, yesterday I decided to sacrifice some of treasured time for study to attend a family birthday party, one of the many family meetings that have kept our family spirit going and bonded for the last couple of years since leaving Zimbabwe. Life has taught me some very tough lessons about family and friendship and society in general.

I consider myself fortunate to have had the opportunity to experience what I consider the most diversified life any individual can experience in a life time, however  diverse the life has been, it has also had its up’s and downs, perhaps in my own reflection more suffering than good from a certain point in my life.

In 1980 my dad the late Professor Canaan Banana was appointed the first President of Independent Zimbabwe. I had just turned 13 years old, the transition and elevation to this new high profile life style was an exciting moment for us as kids though we hardly understood the real history behind it at the time. The previous couple of years before independence had seen us travel across Zimbabwe as my dad was a missionary teacher and aspiring preacher for the Methodist Church. He later left the country without telling us to study in the United States as an exiled politician. I was too young to understand the reasons why we were all of a sudden left with our mother with no sight of our dad. Anyway months passed and I found myself on the road once again travelling with my mum and two brothers to Botswana. This trip was to become the first of many travels by air across continent’s, from Botswana to Kenya, then Kenya to the U.K before finally arriving in Washington D.C where we lived for the next 3 years.

Anyway let me jump back to the main reason why I have written this article, what life under a prominent name has been like. When we grow up we all aspire to be something in life, have a good job, buy a car, buy house, get married and have kids. When I was asked as a kid what I would like to become when I grow up, I used to say I would like to be a lawyer, obviously that never happened as per my childhood wishes.

From living in a high density location in Bulawayo (New Luveve), we were booked at Meikles Hotel in Harare for a few weeks awaiting the official Independence Ceremony which we apparently could not attend due to security reasons as the close security units had been exhausted by the visiting International Leaders who had come for the Independence Celebrations.  The exciting part is the opportunity of being at the right place at the right time, gave me a chance of meeting some of the great leaders like Indira Ghandi (daughter of Mahatma Ghandi) then Prime Minister of India and others who had also been booked at the same hotel as us. It was just a spur of a moment where we bumped into them in the corridors of the hotel as kids roaming around in search of activity.

After the Official Independence Celebration we were moved from the Hotel to State House Harare, what a massive Mansion, over 28 bedrooms and a guest quarters that was specially reserved for the Royal Family if they ever planned to visit, which never got used by them in the next seven years that we lived there. It was a bit scary for us kids though, as the bedrooms were massive probably the size of our whole house in Luveve, my mother resolved that I and my younger brother share one room and changes were made to put two beds in one room. It was a complete new world and experience for us and our life style suddenly had to go through some major changes.

Firstly we had to now get used to table manners,  7-8am was official breaksfast,1-2pm was official lunch time and 6-7pm official supper time. You were given a list by the kitchen staff the night before to select what you would want for breakfast the following morning. We had to learn table manners like how to use all the various utensils, fish knives, steak knives etc. and how to behave when there were visitors. We were not allowed to leave the table before everyone has finished eating this was turning to look like a military school.

Anyway with time we got accustomed to the house rules, and it was now time for school. The good side of it is being in the United States had given us the opportunity to experience what attending multi-racial schools was like, but Zimbabwean private schools were very different from the ones in the USA. The kids seemed ok, though you had the occasional rude boy amongst every group, but some of the teachers were evidently racially biased towards the new black kids that had now joined this elite group of rich whites. I automatically became close friends with some of the other new kids who were children of Ministers and prominent business people at the time, with time the white kids grew more interested in associating with us as with all young people and groups knowing someone from an influential family had its advantages. (It’s like being friends with Bill Gates kids)

The downside about the school environment was the expectations of the teachers and school mates, I could not under perform else I would be an embarrassment to the family and at the same time I could not come up tops all the time else there would be rumours that I was probably given special favours, so one had to try and stay above average and within reasonable levels of acceptance. When I started boarding school having enough pocket money was a big issue as my parent’s old fashioned as they were did not want to be seen as spoiling us, so they tried to limit the amount of pocket money we got which made life really uncomfortable for us at boarding school. I would see other kids coming with trunks loaded with foodstuffs like canned beef, biscuits and a load of other items that would act as a supplement to their school meals, but then when I look back I kind of understand that we all came from varied backgrounds, other parents didn’t mind spoiling their kids (giving them what they need) whilst other’s thought being too kind would hinder their progress. My friends could not understand why a son of a President never had enough money or at least more than most of the other kids. Perhaps my parents were just too hard on us and on themselves too. I had to struggle at times to get new uniforms; it was a process which had to be done through the Secretary (man) to the President who was responsible for our schooling. You know when you start going to High School that’s the time you grow the most, maybe my parents were too busy to notice the difference or the staff member responsibly was too scared to ask for a budget for our school equipment and materials.
I was what was called a weekly boarder, where I would spend weekends at home. 

I am going to sound a bit biased here, State House had a fleet of cars with a team of drivers, with one driver normally reserved to drive the President, however in the first couple years when the Controller of State House (House Keeper) was still a white man we got the most amazing service from him in many areas. What I enjoyed was the fact I could also be dropped off at school in the Presidential Mercedes which kind of made me feel important too (as a child), even when the official car was being used by my dad I still got dropped off by a reasonable looking car the lowest in value being a Peugeot 504. However this started to change when the old Controller was replaced by the new and aspiring black academics, somehow my dad’s Secretary managed to centralise all the roles so that he had final say in all the other functions which were previously shared responsibilities. As time passed things changed, within State House there was a gradual decline of service delivery.  From nowhere I would now be dropped off at school by a Mazda pick-up truck, you know when you get used to special treatment and suddenly it’s taken away all kinds of things start flashing through your mind. The Secretary also lived within the State House grounds, he had taken over the Controllers residence a mansion located a kilometre away from the main house within the State House grounds. He also had kids and by probing the drivers, his kids were now the ones getting this special service which was meant to be for us. Somehow we would have the pick-up and the Secretary’s kids have the Merc or Peugeot, this new information would lead to a deterioration of relations between us and the secretary and eventually also my mom and the Secretary. Anyway there’s little one could do but complain to mom and hope for the best.

One of the greatest nightmares of moving to State House was security, we were not allowed out of the grounds that were heavily guarded by police and army units. The furthest we could go was the neighbouring Morris Depot Training grounds, these eventually became our access to the outside world undetected. However having the food and grounds to run around was not enough for energy filled kids like us, we also wanted time to be with our friends, and the closest we could be was the phone. If we wanted to go for a movie or out with friends, we had to make a booking two weeks in advance so that security officials can be allocated to accompany us, imagine how frustrating this arrangement was if you wanted to take your girlfriend for a movie? State House became so frustrating that I ended up looking for ways just to get out of the house, one of them was having an interests in my dad’s activities.

Most people remember my dad not as President but as the number one soccer fan in Zimbabwean football. He started a soccer team called State House Tornados, initially composed of the staff and members of the army and police working there. I would go and watch them in their training and later would also travel with them to various locations across Zimbabwe to watch them play. As I grew older I also started taking part in the training and at some stage started playing for their reserve side, this was all a way of trying to spend time with my dad whom I had not had the opportunity to know most of my life. I remember there was a time when Peter Nyama who was coach at the time wanted to try me for the first team but my dad refused, I was devastated as I had really put a lot of effort in meeting the high standards that existed within the team, I was also aware at the time that for me to make it into the team I would need to do exceptionally well.

Just before my ‘O’Level exams my mom was invited to Mozambique by the late President Samora Machel and family. This was to become the first and only State Visit that we would have during my dad’s term in Office. We met President Machel and Graca Machel and their kids and had dinner at the State House, it is my most memorable occasion as son of a serving President. We spent two weeks traveling across various provinces including visiting the famous Belene Beach. During that visit I had to make time to study for my exams, and the best time was early in the mornings. My results were not too much of a shock as it had been really difficult for me to stay focused on my studies during a time I experienced the best kind of hospitality I have seen in my life time.  I got 4 ‘O’Level passes out of 6 and was one short of progressing to lower six, my High School had agreed to allow me to continue provided I re-sit the exams I failed in April of the following year.

 I was disappointed when the Secretary told me my dad had refused to consider that option but had suggested I join the police force since I wanted to be a lawyer. He went on to suggest that as children of a head of State their will was to design our careers like the British Royal family (hogwash), so I should choose where I would like to serve between the three forces but he recommended the police as progressing to a career in law would be easier from that platform. He told me I would then go to University through the Police Force after completing my training and induction period. That was the initial destruction of my career ambitions.

I was coerced to joining the Police at the lowest rank of constable as my ‘O’Level results fell short of me being attested as a Patrol Officer, I hated this whole idea but how else could I say no to the highest office in the land, after all I was still living under my parent’s roof and who was I to decide my future.  This is one of many occasions where I felt I was commanded rather than guided. I hated the uniform, hated the types of duty’s allocated to constables and also hated the fact that I had to salute senior officers and no one saluted me.  The nice part is I earned my own money and found I could do a lot with my newly discovered riches, but not for long. After a few months in training I wanted to quit and starting questioning why I was never given the opportunity to re-write my ‘O’Levels, my squad mates in training would ask why I was not allowed to train as a Patrol Officer as a son of a President, surely my status should have been able to start me off as a commissioned rank. Well I was also confused by the whole process just like they were and just had to conform to the President’s request just like everyone else. My two year probation in the Police was a painful experience, forced to try and appreciate something I never liked. I decided to use the opportunity to get my driver’s licence before later buying myself out of the contract to join the Intelligence Service. Just before that my dad had also resigned from the Presidency to make way for a new Executive President which was to accommodate the partners of the leaders of the liberation movements. This also effectively affected all career pathways that had been planned for us as children of the Head of State.

Intelligence work was more interesting and challenging too but very life threatening. After my initial training I was posted in Mutare to work with Police and Army in counter insurgency operations in the border areas of Manicaland province and occasionally in Mozambique. I came across some of the most horrific images of war committed by RENAMO, what made matter’s worse is at some stage I was the only mobile operative in the area and any incidents that took place I would find myself arriving before the Army or Police, I think because of the sporadic attacks and traps some of the unit’s would not go to the scene of attack without prior support from the other services for obvious reasons. The challenges I had during my school days came back to haunt me in my working career where I had to perform above average and not outperform other’s as quick promotion would be seen as favouritism and underperforming would be seen as taking advantage of my label as a son of a prominent individual. I was conveniently left out of promotion several times even though I had risked my butt off in war torn Mozambique  for over 2 years and virtually attending to most of the districts incidents as the only driving officer.

Things took a drastic twist when Mugabe became President, we became less important for obvious reasons and suddenly it seemed like, any contribution any one of us had made to government since independence was not important to the new system of government (hierarchy). The Presidential Bill was effectively changed in the constitution to exclude the President and Family from 1980 but to only include all serving Presidents and their deputies and families from 1992. It’s not like I benefited anything from the time my dad was in office, as I did not know what rights and privileges we had as children of a former a Head of State, but when a close friend shared the current Presidential Bill I see a lot of opportunities I could have used had I known I had those advantages. Though I feel my mom and dad have been robbed of what they fought for in their lives and deserve better, I’m glad I have had to experience and learn life the hard way.

I resigned from Zimbabwean government in 1992, a few months later I was involved in a close to fatal accident a few meters from my former work place, this resulted in a dislocation of my right leg, which now has a recurring pain. After recovery I left Zimbabwe for South Africa just before Mandela became President in 1994.

Next Chapter

A new life and a new beginning.

 Life in South Africa without the label of being known as former son of the President of Zimbabwe, a life where I felt a sense of belonging and being part of a society where social mobility is dependent on personal performance and dedication to work. My new family.




Tuesday, 24 August 2010

A letter of apology to Zimbabwe







Dear beloved country,

Today I write to you on behalf of all children born under your care, without you we would have no real identity of who we are, where we come from and what we believe in. It is with greatest saddness that today I sit here forced by situations which you never created but which have been brought about by children who refuse to accept change and have gone deaf and blind to what most of us as children of the soil cry for.

I am sorry that you have had to take back so many of your own children in some of the most cruel and unimaginable ways, too much blood has been spilled in the name of independence and democracy. Please forgive us for leaving you in the hands of vultures, children who are no longer interested in building and developing a society with good moral values but would rather promote a culture of greed and hate of their own flesh and blood. Our history is a very long one, one that has passed through generations of kings and chiefs, prime ministers and presidents, peasants and farmers, young and old and rich and poor.

We now envy those days that we used to get up looking forward to a happy and stress free day, today all that is around us paints a very bleak picture of a future that continues to have divisions in society. In todays world we still have brothers and sisters with no plate of food to eat, no education, health care and a roof over their head when we are now suppose to be living in a post mordern world where such basic life requirements should be accessible to all. Please forgive us for not having the will and strength to defeat the evil that has hidden it's self in the systems used to govern us, I believe we were all born to learn how to live life to the best of our abilities but because of the barriers created by the systems in use and exasperated by the manupilation of the same systems by our own leaders that we trusted with our welfare.

I promise from now on, we will try and learn to take the lead in our individual lives, than to put trust in men and women who no longer have limits in what they do, how they do it and do not care who it will affect. We have learnt the very hard way, we have lost many a brother, sister, son, daughter,uncle,auntie, cousin, grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, friend, companion, teacher and many others who we identified with in various ways in our lives. Our time is now, now is the time for all of us to take control of our lives and start the healing process that will make you the pride of Africa again.

Your Prodigal child

Proud Zimbabwean

Friday, 20 August 2010

A peep into my Book My Early years as a child (Edited extracts)








Thank you for taking your time to read this short introduction looking at my early life as a child in pre-independence Zimbabwe. I was the 3rd born child in my family during the colonial era in Rhodesia now Zimbabwe at Fort Victoria Hospital now (Masvingo). Both my parents were teachers though my dad was also a reverend for the Methodist Church. My early years were spent on the road for reasons best known by my parents, what I can remember is from the time we lived at Njube Methodist Church in Bulawayo during the early seventy’s. My name Nathan was derived from the prophet Nathan in the Bible for obvious reasons, we later moved from Njube to New Luveve where my mom started a job as a teacher at a local school there called Mashayisikova Government Primary. 

My dad left us to further his education in the USA Washington D.C, I had no idea what was going on as our mom just made sure we ate and had uniforms for schools, things were tough at times, I remember sometimes having sitshwala (sadza) with water and sugar as my mom could not afford to buy food for us when my dad left. We as kids did not know the reasons then but with empty stomachs ate what ever was given to us at the time. To try and counter the affordability of food,my mom decided to grow a vegetable garden at the side and back of the house, she grew mubida(mavegi), onions, carrots and tomatoes which became our common dish with the occasional meat once in a while and chicken was for special occasions. To try and provide us with a variety meal we would also have sour milk, mathumbu, and macimbi during certain times of the year. She gave us chores around the house and also had to water and weed the garden on certain days,it wasn't so bad as we also had to learn about building composts and gardening as part of our curriculum at school. I can't really say I felt any difference as a result of my father going abroad. We used to go to school bare footed as life was hard for most families then, however my mom did buy me tenderfoots (black all star) that I ended up wearing to school. 

Social life was fun, we didn't have any fancy toys like the kids of today, our toys were wire cars, pipe guns and somes broken bricks. I also learned how to fish, which became a very big hobby for me, but there was always risks of being bitten by snakes and other dangerous African creatures. I did come across several species of the snake family, cobra's, black mamba, green mamba and puff adder. My mom never wanted to eat my fish because she said I had caught them in water infested by the sewage systems, I didn't care to me it was a meal and most of all a great catch. 

During school holidays my mom would take us from the townships to the rural areas to her father's farm (Ekhaya), I enjoyed farm life, it was a completely different environment from town life. We would go and catch 'Magedleni' that was the name of the bus service that would deliver us to the nearest growth point. We would then walk several kilometres to my grandfathers homestead as the roads were not good enough for cars and buses to drive along, at first the distance seemed very long, but perhaps because we knew what to expect after that and also got used to the walking distance the trip became shorter and quicker. Being in the rural areas was a whole new experience. Early in the morning like 4:30-5:00am my grandfather would wake us up so that we can go milk the cows in time for my mom and them to make breakfast for all of us. 

I remember stepping all over the cow dung and the smell of farm life...an experience that I have treasured up to today. After milking the cows we would then let them out of the kraal to go and feed in the field which in those days funny enough was always green. During the day we would go swimming naked in the river, if you were thirsty you would just dig a hole by the river and then wait a little while for the water to fill up before drinking it..that was life in those days. If you were hungry there were all kinds of wild berries to feed from, but some of them were not to be abused as they could upset your tummy and eventually mean you had to be spaded. Spading was every Childs worst nightmare..we couldn't understand the principle behind sticking that rubberish device in our backsides and squeezing fluids inside..ha ha ha...that was the life. Some days we would get up even earlier to go and plough the fields, I did not see the reason behind the early start then, but when I think of it now it was probably because they wanted to get some work done before the hot scorching African sun came out. 

There were a lot of wild animals around mostly Baboons and monkeys and the occasional grass snake. My favourite food was "amasi"(sour yogurt) and sitshwala or sadza..That is what I think I found most exciting about visiting the rural areas. Then there was the bed time stories, in those days they were done around a fire at night normally narrated by grandma, most of these were about these very short man who ate people. 

Back at school, during the 10 o'clock break we used to buy hot buns, I think for a tick which was below a cent one could buy 2 buns, and they always used to be fresh and a bit warm. School was fun but like every establishment there were bullies and in those days some people started school at a much older age, so you would have these very big girls and boys in your class and guess what, most of them were really slow learners. I kind of understand why now but didn't understand it back then, in our school days there was corporal punishment. I remember teachers had their different forms of punishment, I had one teacher who used to pinch us under our thighs, the one lady teacher used to hit us with a ruler but the worst one I had was called 'Dhliwayo', he taught grade 7 and had a shambok, one white one and a black one he called 'umagula engafi' meaning the one that gets sick but does not die. He taught mathematics and you did not want to get things wrong in his class tests otherwise your day would be one to remember for a very long time. I was kind of lucky to avoid punishment from Dhliwayo as the family had to move from Bulawayo to live in Harare where my dad was to start a new job..

continued...for publication in a date to be announced..please comment and make suggestions for improving reading. 

"The Lord's Prayer in the Ghetto"




Our Father which art in the ghetto,



Degraded is your name.




Thy servitude abounds,




Thy will is mocked,




As pie in the sky,




Teach us to demand,




Our share of gold,




Forgive us our docility,




As we demand our share of justice,




Lead us not into complicity,




Deliver us from our fears,




For ours is thy sovereignty,




The power and the liberation,




For ever and ever..., Amen.


Canaan Banana, The Gospel According to the Ghetto. Gweru: Mambo Press, 1981:1

Who am I?





"I have been born into a world where I have had the opportunity to learn, experience and share. All these aspects are a part of my life regardless of the amounts each one of them carry. I see no reason why I should limit my beliefs to any particular ideology written by those before me, I see them as mere guides and inspiration to further discoveries, after all none of those ideologies or beliefs are 100% perfect.


My socio-economic- political views are inspired by a vision that I have for the future of our society, they are not socialist or capitalist nor are they liberal or conservative. They are based on the understanding of our ever changing socio-economic environment's and how we utilise the available knowledge and resources to develop a world that provides steady and balanced growth across all the diverse human talent's and capabilities.


It is equally important for us to understand each other's strengths and weaknesses, but not manipulate that knowledge for our own individual and selfish benefit but rather compliment each other where we are of different strengths in order to enhance our challenge as a unified human race in the development of our world.


Be Vision Inspired.....Dream...."

“Keep your dreams alive. Understand to achieve anything requires faith and belief in yourself, vision, hard work, determination, and dedication. Remember all things are possible for those who believe.”~Gail Devers

My Wife and Kids

Lutchelle, Shabaan, Yasmine









Deano,Shabaan, Wazier
Shabaan,Nathan,Janet