Immediately after completing my law degree, I was literally snatched by Morgan Tsvangirai to work as a Legal Adviser responsible for research and litigation at the Zimbabwe Congress of Trade Unions. Within a year, I married my sweetheart, Muchaneta, and we had our lovely first child, Bertha. With this added family responsibility, I decided to go into private practice.
I joined a white firm, but was fired within a month over disagreements about the allocation of toilets between white and black members of staff. I, however, immediately found employment with another legal firm in Kadoma. One day a friend, Osmond Nyamakanga took me for a drink at Kadoma Ranch Motel.
There was a lively disco with famous DJs, Peter Jones, Kudzi Marudza and Joseph Hussein thrilling the crowd. The hall was packed to the brim, it being a Friday. At about 9pm a tall, light and handsome man walked to the center of the hall about 5 meters from us.
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The disco lights lit his clearly expensive coat. He smelled of expensive cologne. The DJ Joseph Hussien temporarily halted the music and announced over the microphone; “Ladies and Gentleman, we now have in the house Mr.
Blessed Geza!” The man slowly but deliberately walked towards the stage and from about a meter and out of his coat, he took a ward of crispy notes and threw them to the DJ who had uttered his name. The crowd went into frenzy as the man, in the company of the Hotel Manager, Mr. Tazarurwa walked to his seat near the bar.
The music resumed. Osmond told me that the next round of drinks will be on the rich man as it was customary that whenever he walked in the bar, the next round of drinks would be on him and for everyone! Osmond told me that the man was a businessman in Kadoma, a former army officer and a war veteran.
As up to that time I had never seen a rich war veteran, I did not believe Osmond on that detail. The following Monday my boss, Munyaradzi Paul Mangwana started allocating me the files that I was supposed to deal with. I noticed that the majority of the files belonged to the same company.
One of the cases involving quite a substantial amount of money was supposed to be argued on Thursday, the same week. Mangwana emphasized that I should prepare well for the case because the director of the company was a very fastidious man. On Thursday morning I went to the civil court.
The presiding Magistrate was Steven Murambasvina, whom we used to call “Doink we Zaka” during our student days at the University of Zimbabwe. My opponent was Mr. Sibanda (not his real name), who had equally been my senior at the University.
He was very experienced, shrewd and thorough. As the case was about to start, Mr. Geza walked into the court room with his entourage and sat right at the back.
The smell of his expensive cologne pervaded the entire court room. That morning, after taking my bath I had spoiled myself with a generous amount of bruit perfume. That compared to Mr.
Geza’s cologne made me feel cheap! It was not clear to me what he had come to court for. My case was the fifth on the roll.
It appeared as if everybody in the gallery had been waiting for that case. Although this matter was supposed to be heard in the High Court given the amount involved, the parties had consented to the jurisdiction of the Kadoma Magistrate’s Court. Given that this was my very first case under my new employer and given the amount involved, I argued the matter as if my life depended on it.
Sibanda as usual was splendid and methodical. I was therefore naturally elated when the Magistrate Murambasvina ruled in my favor! I left the court room for the office but noticed that Mr.
Geza and his troupe had immediately followed me outside. Beaming, he congratulated me for a “fantastic display”. Accepting the kind compliment, I asked what his business had been at the court.
“But you have just represented me. That was my company” That was the beginning of a fantastic professional and personal relationship with Mr. Blessed Geza.
In our subsequent discussions Mr. Geza started talking about my dressing which was not corresponding with the cases that I was winning. He said that the dressing of a lawyer either gave or removed the confidence of his client.
It was a lifelong lesson that I have carried to this day. In everything Mr. Geza demanded excellence and clearly abhorred mediocrity.
I became a friend of Mr. Geza and frequently rode in his expensive cars. Whenever I had financial problems he would chip in without expecting any repayment.
One day I attempted to return a debt of what would be today’s equivalent of USD $ 100. I was thoroughly berated for “insulting” him. Was he not my big brother?
My relationship with this flamboyant man won me quite a few enemies. One day I was in the company of Mr. Geza when some malicious chap walked across the lawn to where we were seated just outside the Kadoma Ranch Motel building.
After a few drinks he asked Mr. Geza as to whether he knew that I was a member of the opposition Zimbabwe Unity Movement. Boiling with anger, I kept my cool.
But the man was not done yet. He also stated that his research had shown that I was one of the 116 people who had been arrested and detained at Wha Wha Prison in Gweru in 1990 for “fighting the government”. Geza sipped his drink rather slowly and turned to address my enemy.
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