This is the most likely place
to hide a secret and be safe
And Grandpa needed to be safe
Gleefully they hung all rebels
So he vanished into the night
across rivers and mountains
and right here under this tree
he put everything to rest:
what his heart ached for,
friends, family and love
in exchange for freedom
My obsession now is to reconstruct him
So with my heart in my mouth
I dig and scrape 'neath this old tree
But all I see is a gaping hole staring up at me
Grandpa's primitive gun has eluded discovery,once again.
My paternal grandfather was a combatant against in-coming invaders of the British South Africa Company during the 1896 uprisings,so-called. This phase of the struggle is what in Zimbabwe is called 'Chimurenga I'. After the war the colonial authorities began to systematically apprehend and execute anyone they identified as having fought against them.So my grandfather fled his place of birth and settled somewhere else. I had heard about how he buried his home-made rifle in the ground and became eager to find it. I never did.