Remembering Wicknell Chivayo 🕊️
A tribute to a former schoolmate, a complicated friend, and a man who never forgot where he came from. 🇿🇼
My relationship with Wicknell Chivayo dates back to the early 1990s. He was my junior at Dudley Hall Primary School in Norton, and our paths would occasionally cross in Hatfield, where I grew up and where he also lived for a while before moving to Bulawayo. 🏫
A Wedding Day Memory 💛🚘
One of the memories that has stayed with me is from my wedding day on May 28, 2005. Wicknell came to pick me up from my home in Hatfield. He was driving a gold BMW 7 Series — a rare sight on Zimbabwean roads at the time and very much a symbol of status. I sat in the back seat as he chauffeur-drove me all the way to the wedding reception venue in Ruwa. We talked and laughed along the way, completely at ease with each other.
Over the years, we remained in touch, although we were never particularly close. Our paths would occasionally cross unexpectedly — sometimes on flights during my travels around Africa and internationally, or at duty-free shops where I would bump into him while shopping. He always acknowledged me warmly and respectfully, calling me VaMukwazhi. 🤝
Different Paths, Mutual Respect 🗞️
He did not always agree with the work I was doing as a journalist. He felt that I was too critical of the government and would jokingly, although sometimes seemingly seriously, tell me, “Come and join us.” I would laugh it off. I was simply doing the work I believed in. And despite our differences, there was always mutual respect.
A Birthday at the Traffic Lights 🎂
Another memory that comes back to me was from five years ago. I was driving and spotted him at a traffic intersection in Harare. I hooted and he wound down his window. He told me it was his birthday.
“Happy birthday,” I said.
I happened to have US$50 in my wallet. I got out of my car, handed it to him through the window, and wished him well. He smiled, thanked me, and drove away. It was a small gesture, but one I still remember. 💵
The Last Conversation 📞
My last conversation with Wicknell was on November 22 last year, which was his birthday. It was brief. We spoke about Dudley Hall Primary School and the need to improve the condition of the school hostels.
That school meant a lot to both of us. 🏫
Before I left Zimbabwe, the headmistress had reached out to me as a former pupil, asking if I could help with the refurbishment of the deteriorating hostels. She suggested that I speak to Wicknell because she knew we were still in touch.
I had pledged to provide some paint, but I was honest that I did not have the financial means to do much more. So I reached out to him.
He said he would help find a way to support the school.
He would later buy a brand-new bus for Dudley Hall Primary School and pledge US$1 million towards infrastructure development at the school. 🚌
That, perhaps, is the memory I will carry most vividly.
A Shared Beginning ✨
Our lives took very different paths. I became a journalist and spent much of my life travelling the world, documenting people and events. Wicknell pursued his own path and became a prominent businessman and philanthropist. We did not always see the world the same way, and we were not the closest of friends.
But there was a shared beginning at Dudley Hall. There was a familiarity that endured across the decades. And there was always respect. 🙏🏽
Rest in peace, Wicknell. You ran a magnificent race, my former schoolmate. May the work you started at the school that once brought us together continue to benefit the generations that follow.
Go well, VaChivhayo. 🕊️
