Zain Haroon Greenland … My Brother

Zain was my elder brother, 2^nd born of four boys. He was of good stature, lithe and very good looking, with classic facial bone structure.

One morning late Gus Evans, late Waldo Payne and I, were leaving a Hotel in Bulawayo when we were confronted by two brothers. They accused us of having no manners for not having moved off the pavement to let them pass. As much as they were certainly not bigger than us, and appreciably smaller than Waldo, they assured us that we were in for a good “f..ing up” to teach us manners.
Personally I was game and relished the prospect of teaching THEM some manners … until someone in a gathering crowd called out that these were the “Bell brothers”. My heart sank to my shoes.
The Bell brothers were the kings of physical violence in Skies (Bulawayo) and I became decidedly unenthusiastic about taking them on, even though we outnumbered them

The three us us looked at each other in bewilderment. I told the Bell brothers to wait a moment while I took Waldo and Gus to one side to impart to them a plan that I had learnt from my eldest brother, Frank Joseph Leith, about how to win in such a situation.

It was just then that someone in the crowd called out “Zain se boet”, Afrikaans for “Zain’s brother”, referring to me.
What then happened was truly surreal. The Bell brothers vanished.  The infamous masters of violence disappeared like magic. They had simply vanished.
Later on wonderful fishing trips, I did with Gus, he would have us in stitches, cheek and stomach muscles cramping with laughter,  around our campfire, recounting how the terrible Bell brothers skirmished like bats out of Hell … because of those magic words “Zain se boet”. 
He would go on and on about this while cooking us a "traditional chicken" that he always insisted he buy at one of the indigenous villages en route. "So if there is a lion ..." he would say "there in front of you ... just say Zain se boet .... "

I was able to explain to Gus why the brothers had skirmished.
I think that it was Mina Cassim, Zain’s dancing partner, who had given me a piece of the puzzle by telling me of how the Bell brothers had accosted Zain and threatened to “f him up.”
“Vavie” (it’s my name) she said, “you have never seen anybody so happy, as your brother was … and he asked them who was it that had appointed them as sheriffs of Skies?   Zain’s face was like a child at Xmas getting the toy of his dreams. Vavie, how can anybody be happy to see the Bell brothers?
But your brother was thrilled .. with his green eyes shining like stars.
He invited them to “come to Papa ... come to Papa”, beckoning with inviting fingers … and then gave the Bell brothers the hiding of their lives … with one of them flying through the window like in a cowboy movie”.

Earlier, when we were teenagers, Zain and I were accosted in the dormitory of Moffat Primary School by a gang of six (6). When I tried to stand with my brother he dug his knuckle into the side of my head and asked me if I also “wanted some”.
He was so happy to take on the gang on his own … eyes blazing with joy and excitement, while he invited them to “come to Papa”.
In the end all six lads retreated sporting various hematoma such as black eyes, swollen ears and bloody noses.
Roger Green Thompson will be able to confirm this incident.

So my brother was a fighter of note. He loved it. No amount of counseling by our Mum, Uncle Dick Williams, the Parish priest, and many other elders, could get him to relent.
He had this need to fight … and never lost a fight except that in the end he was set upon by a gang, while inebriated, who then ran him over three times with their vehicle. He was in a coma for over a week. He never really recovered from the injuries.

Because of professional expertise I later mustered, I was able to work out why my brother was that way.
You see his first and true love(s) were being suppressed. He absolutely loved dancing; I mean proper dancing. Nobody could dance like Zain.  He also loved opera singing … theater … and cooking … the very things that most of us Goffals more or less despised with a passion. To us this was all sissy stuff.
It was impossible to reconcile his love of “high culture” and his love of fist fights.

So, in his heart ... in his psyche, he was an extremely cultured human being. 

In a normal society Zain would have been able to find and give expression to those things he loved most. But his was racist Rhodesia. As Coloureds, we were under oppression. There was no chance for us to be our true selves.

Oppression induces frustration. Frustration induces violence. As a great teacher, Richard Joseph Brown, would say … “Violence is the last resort of a frustrated mind”.

I am mad that my brother never had a real chance in life.
At heart he was an exceptionally cultured, gifted human being. However he was denied any opportunity to be his real self.

Zains's need to fight was him acting out terrible frustration that he could not be who he really was.

I now know that my brother was an aristocrat at heart resenting his enslavement.

I know how talented he was about anything he applied himself to. When the Barham Green Swimming Pool was opened we were treated to swimming lessons by visiting Whites. Zain then challenged them to a race on each stroke and dive, that he had just learnt, and beat them soundly.

Rest in peace my brother. I hope you, Gus and Waldo see this and have a good laugh about those terrible Bell brothers.
When it is my turn I hope the three of you will also be there with Frank, David and Nicholas John … and if Lucifer tries to get me I know that he is gonna hear those words … “Come To Papa”.