Nothing happened... nothing at all. Life stood still, ...at least it seemed
that way in comparison to huge bustling cities.
The fields were trodden by the black men and women who woke every
morning and shut their eyes every night, just as the sun goes down and day turn
to night; filled with the silence and darkness that surrounds the hands of
time. Life was all about the hut, the tea and bread, the toiled land, the nqomboti
(African beer) sessions and time………whilst the thunderous rivers and waterfalls
echoed in the background in harmony to the melody of the birds’ songs.
Then came one white man…two white men…and many followed. From Europe,
England …and the expanse of the earth; strolled the hills and laying claim to the
creations our forefathers casually passed every day. Very soon the pace of life
was dictated by the literate white man who travelled from the north and our
ancestor followed the instruction with awe and amazement. The winds continued
to bellow through the trees....tossing the seeds of the flowers wild and high.
The sun shone brighter and life went on. Every minute; every day; every month;
every year. The raindrops quenched the valleys and the rivers swelled… Life
went on. Before long the settlers claimed the pride of the land; every inch and
undulating hill, the curves of the kopjes. In fact they claimed everything; yes
every curve … particularly those of the beautiful black women that became the
delight and foundation of nations.
Jones, Mitchell, Smith; many others and a Scotsman called Galloway.…. They
walked the land whilst Galloway’s pale skin got roasted beneath the bright African
sun, spitting orders and roaming the land as if it was his own. But as night fell,
he would scour the domain needing to, rightfully or wrongfully, delight in the
beauty of black women. Before long his contribution to the land and the women
that worked it became the talk of the town.
The charm of the Scotsman touched the heart of a black feminine soul that
carried his name and brought forth a family called Galloway. They were a family of brothers and sisters
with huge loving hearts and strong caring minds and spirits. Legends and women
of substance!!!
Ruby, Marie, George and Matthew soon followed suit; clansmen of note. They
followed the examples of the Scotsman with distinction; as if it was law
written on tablets. Naughty, Warm blooded brothers with a twinkle in their
eyes, who before long became the rulers of their own kin. George had 10
children and Matthew 12. The Galloway women made sure that they too could be
held accountable by a few.
The brothers were very close. They moved and worked together, played
together…. Everything they did they did together. They even stayed in the same
suburbs, but they prowled far and wide to claim the hearts of humble women.
George married Beatrice and Matthew rode from a small town called Gatooma to
the mountains and hills of Sinoia, for the heart of a Twsana woman called
Lillian. Between the brothers they fathered and nurtured a nation of two scores
and two. They named their children after the same names. Life was simple then.
The names carried the pride of the family and ensured a continuation of manner
and name-sake.
For 86 years they “chilled” together, working hard and struggling to raise
the children that were scattered across the land like grains of rice across an empty
plate. They scattered every Monday
morning, gone for the week and lived amongst nature and the wild. Sometimes
they scurried home on weekends or and other times not. They lived in caravans
plying their trade and becoming founders of the road networking systems…or so
they told us. They adorned themselves with big titles and as we grew up, those
titles fascinated us... Made our parents and uncles feel important. Yet behind
the scenes, they were glorified drivers; driving huge plants and
equipment….simple people of great significance. …Silently they went on with their
business, oblivious to the fact that every day they spent on the earth was a
blessing to those that surrounded them. They claimed the respect of the
neighbours, the community and their peers. They spoke to and of each other with
love and affection, something seldom seen today. Their children were
acknowledged, piggy backing the humility and respect these two men received by
the community.
George and Matthew Galloway were praying men. Their wives strode behind them
with pride, not because they were weak women, but because they were being led; led
by strong wise men. Beatrice and Lilly were courageous and strong. They
protected and kept the homes whilst their men went out in search of work;
returning monthly to repay with gratitude. Like lions the two brothers provided
and protected their kin, whilst their lionesses kept their pride together. They
would return home with empty hands, but hearts filled with love and herald with
attention. Stories would be told and accolades claimed as they boasted about being
the founders of roads that still undulate across the land now called Zimbabwe.
These were practical men…humbled yet accepting of the plight. Today their
families have gifted them with grand and great grandchildren and more.
Kin that have paid homage and tribute to the founders of their own
existence… and true to the teachings of the bible’s simple truths like, “honor your father and mother so that your
days may be long upon the land”….all this and so much more…from the blood of
one Scotsman.
Thank God for the Scotsmen…for the Galloway men, for they have been greatly blessed.
Patrick Terry Galloway - © 2014
