Nostalgic in Gweru

November 14, 2025

In 1981, a year after Zimbabwe acquired its independence from Ian Smith's regime, our family moved to Gweru. Mum and Dad hot jobs in a mission school about 29km outside Gweru, and were keen to move for a better life. My education, and that of my two sisters was a priority, and schools were supposedly better in Zimbabwe, compared to Zambia, where we had lived since 1966. Mum and Dad's jobs were also an upgrade in terms of remuneration. They were brave to make the move into what was an extension of the South African system of Apartheid in what was called "Southern Rhodesia" back in the day.

Today I headed to Gweru. My heart felt a certain sadness when I recalled our times there during my ride. I had four hours to remenisce, as I spun the pedals uphill for the best part of 60km. My sister and I were the first non-white students at Cecil John Rhodes School and Chaplin High School respectively. I remember my fist day, when no-one would want to sit next to me except my (soon to be best friend) Darryl Howard, and I would be called " Mohammed" on the football pitch. Unsavoury memories to say the least. My sister, Sheena, experienced similar, and one one occasion had chewing gum dropped into her hair creating a tragic mess. Things improved once the white kids realised that we were actually "OK", and once that point was reached, Sheena and I were integrared (accepted) into the general population - getting there took months.

The ride today was, as I expected, uphill and into a 24km/h head wind. Not ideal, but my thoughts of Gweru distracted me as my legs worked away gently spinning my lowest gear. Climbing is always achievable with the right gear, and the right attitude. Never rush a climb, dont get out of breath, and don't bob up and down while pulling on the hoods. Golden rules that help overcome the fiercest of climbs!

I rolled into Gweru in good time, and was hungry, craving another Nandos! After indulging, I went on a nostalgic ride around town. Main St, the Midlands Hotel and the clock tower were all still there, albeit slightly worn looking. Some original shops remained, like OK Bazaar and TM, and they looked the same. New names had sprung up everywhere. Gweru was bustling, I was pleased to see. I continued to Chaplin High School, Cecil John Rhodes School, our home 7 Princess St and at 28 Simpson Road. Every site visited brought floods of memories back. I was actually surprised at how much I remembered, from the Science labs to the Maths classroom to the French, Geography and History classrooms, to the tree under which I sat for hours drawing comic strips as a teenager living on Princes St.

I found a lovely bed and breakfast, Alra Lodge, on Kopje Rd, where I settled for the night. Needless to say, the lodge was very comfortable and beautifully maintained, run by a kind elderly couple who also went to Chaplin High School, some years before I did.

Today's ride: 75 km (47 miles)
Total: 318 km (197 miles)

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Ed Gore BrowneSuch a lovely post Bijou. Amazing that only time really stands between such distinct chapters of our life, and how blessed we can be that memories flow back from across the ages. By the way, you kept quiet about the sponsorship deal with Nando’s!
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2 months ago

Bill ShaneyfeltIntegrating... I can relate. When I was 10 (1956) my family moved from Ft Wayne, IN to Mojave, CA. My dad was a teacher, and at that age, teachers (and their kids) were generally very unpopular. I was also awkward, small and skinny. Despite being white in a school of mostly whites, some Mexican, American Indian and one black family, I did not fit in. Not even with the non whites. Only a few other socially inept whites were my friends. It lasted until I left for college, where I was immediately integrated. It took a year or so for me to become normalized to being one of the crowd instead of an outsider.
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2 months ago