The Story of Gerry Murphy
Gerry Murphy grew up in one of the most infamous nations of history. Zimbabwe, originally known as the “Breadbasket of Africa” has crippled due to poverty and a corrupt government run by Robert Mugabe. Gerry had the pleasure of knowing the nation while in its prime.
Born in the small town of Ndola, Zambia in 1955 to two Irish expatriates, Gerry grew up in a family who believed everyone was equal. Her father was an accomplished doctor who qualified in the late 1940s. There was no jobs at this time in Southern Ireland so they first moved to England, where they were subjected to, as Gerry calls it, shunning by the English. They called him an “Irish Mick.” Subsequently the colonies beckoned and like many around him, Gerry’s father found work in the British Railway in Zambia, working as the chief doctor before going into private practice. There were many Europeans who followed similar paths as Gerry’a father. At this time, Zambia (or Rhodesia as it was then known) held rich agrarian land which was very appealing.
As a child she went to a German dominican convent with nuns that were as opinionated as were strict. She seemed to be the odd one out in certain circles because of her belief in the African natives. She frequently had stand up arguments with some of her closest friends about who would eventually lead the new nation after it gained independence in 1964. She always fought passionately, arguing that the land a lot of her friend’s lived on was rightfully the African’s.
Like most European families, her's kept servants, which was considered the norm. All were of African decent. She says that they were all just part of the family. Gerry’s mother always gave them more on top of their salary. Whether it was extra food, clothing or money she was very generous. Gerry fondly remembers their childhood nanny, Flora. Her family lived in a different country. The only job Gerry says she could find was with her family, in Zambia, a 4 hour train ride as well as a boarder crossing from home.
As a little girl, Gerry was shocked when she spent the night at her friend's houses. Their servants were treated far worse than her family’s. She didn’t understand why. After all they were the rightful owners of this land. She had grown up having to make her own bed sometimes cook her own dinner without help from maids or servants, so why were her friends keeping their maids on until the early hours of the mornings, only allowing them a few hours sleep before starting breakfast the next morning?
It was 1969 when Gerry and family made the move to Zimbabwe. She recounts how she had an uncle in the south who they visited in holidays. Her father played a lot of golf and took to one of the local courses where he met a fellow Irishman. Also a GP, he was short staffed and to find someone of Gerry’s father’s calibre was rare. So a deal was made and Gerry moved to Africa.
After studying hard, Gerry eventually followed her father into medicine becoming a radiographer. Gerry chose to work in the African Hospital instead of the European one. She faced death and pain everyday. She always knew it was going to be a busy day when the helicopters arrived early, bringing in men, sometimes boys with their limbs blown off. As a week old student, Gerry was given the job of x-raying corpses to identify the number of bullets in them. She didn’t eat meat for three years.
It was around the time of Mugabe’s election to power that Gerry started to feel unsafe. Her work colleagues told horrific stories of cold blooded murder. A friend’s brother-in-law was going to pay his workers on his farm when three African men approached him. They surrounded him and pinned him down before dragging him inside his own home. He had enough time to yell to his wife and three young children, pleading them to run as the three men crushed him beneath the weight of cinderblocks. They did this for three long hours before putting him out of his misery with the aid of a bullet to the head. There was no police, no inquiry. It was all part of Mugabe’s ruthless land grab.
Gerry recalls how the Zimbabwe army would go around to white farmer’s land and divide it up for African people to call their own. There was never any argument by the Europeans, as they knew what would happen if there was. All these African people were promised land when Mugabe came to power, however none of them knew how to farm. Subsequently, this once rich agrarian society, The Breadbasket of Africa, was beginning to crumble.
Gerry knew it was time to go when her uncle was shot at point blank range for his land. Robert Mugabe’s regime was now in full swing, threatening those who defy.
Gerry was one of the lucky ones. She was able to find work in England, then move to Australia where she married and had one son. This was thanks to her Irish passport. However, her sister is still “stuck” there. The inflation is so bad that the money she earns in a week of work is redundant the next.
Gerry still sends food packages to her sister every month.
Despite what has become of Zimbabwe, Gerry still holds fond memories of the land she left, the land she grew up in and learnt to adore and respect. She believes that Robert Mugabe is a simple power munger who is stripping the nation for all it’s worth, however with the power sharing deal struck with Morgan Tsvangirai, the future looks bright.
She still wishes to travel back to her home village of Ndola, when it is finally safe.
