Tale of Two Rugby Players

‘Tienie’ Martin’s Great Grandfather Marthinus Martin arrived in the Eastern Highlands of what was then Southern Rhodesia in October of 1894. Having led 104 settlers on a harrowing journey north from South Africa the new arrivals set about hacking a livelihood out of a largely deserted wilderness and helped pioneer commercial farming in the new country.

His grandson Marthinus (ii) farmed on and became one of Rhodesia’s top tobacco producers. ‘Tienie’ (Marthinus iii) grew up on Tiny Farm in Inyazura. Youngest of three brothers with two sisters the Martins were a pivotal family in the community with Marthinus (ii) widely respected by all, a patriarchal figure filling the role of informal, ‘elder statesman’

Excelling at sport ‘Tienie’ shunned academia, much to the annoyance of his father who gave him one shot at university and meant it. ‘Tienie’ was soon back on the ‘plaas’ after a brief, fun-filled, but academically unrewarding sojourn at ‘Tukkies’ where he represented Northern Transvaal and SA Universities at athletics.

But back in Rhodesia he was quickly noticed on the rugby field by the national selectors and earned his first national cap in 1966. By 1968 he was in line for Springbok honours when injury struck and he was ruled out of the South African tour of France.

In 1969 the British Barbarians, asked to choose the best fly-half they encountered on their southern Africa tour were unequivocal in their rating of him above Springbok Piet Visagie. Later that year there was criticism in the SA press when Martin was overlooked in favour of Mike Lawless. He was however chosen for the SA Gazelles and Springbok trials and also represented the SA ’B’. By 1971 his competitive career, marred by injury, was over but ‘Tienie’ Martin had staked a claim for recognition as one of Rhodesia’s greatest fly-halves. In the popularity stakes, with his good looks, charm and sense of humour Rhodesian rugby lost one it’s most charismatic players.

Married to Charlotte in 1971 ‘Tienie’s father died in 1974 and he took over the farm acquiring a reputation, in his own right, similar to his fathers; liked and respected across the racial divide by all and a first-class farmer. “I don’t think ‘Tienie’ Martin has an enemy in the world,” says former fellow-farmer and friend, ‘Lochie’ Slabbert, “he is just one of the nicest people I have ever known”.

But everything changed just after 1 o’clock on Monday 8^th December of 2003 when ‘occupiers’ burst through the farm gates and told ‘Tienie’s daughter Shelly that they were taking ‘Tiny Farm’ and wanted to see her father .

Hearing of the crisis nearby a neighbour phoned ‘Tienie’ who was in Harare at the time. He hastened back that afternoon to meet a large man accompanied by 12 youths in a belligerent mood. The man introduced himself as Joseph Mujati, handed Martin a letter and informed him that he was taking over the farm immediately.

Martin looked at the letter and noted that that it was for the acquisition of the adjacent property known as ‘Tiny Extension’ not ‘Tiny Farm’. He pointed out this fact to Mujati who said it was irrelevant and that the letter could be changed in two minutes to read ‘Tiny farm’. He was adamant he wanted Tiny Farm and the Martin family home for 80 years. He told Martin to start packing immediately and to get off the property.

“I insisted he was acting illegally,” remembers Martin. “I phoned the police in Nyazura who arrived to tell me I would not be subjected to any violence but that I had to pack and leave in the morning.

“Crack of dawn my wife Charlotte, my daughter Shelly and myself started packing. Our situation was made worse by the verbal abuse we were subjected to while trying to pack in the presence of two policemen.. This carried on all the time but they could not wait for us to leave and the looting of the house started while we were still there. Not even my golf clubs were spared. 100m away my eldest daughter Shayne was also being harassed and verbally abused while trying to pack up her home. One policeman mentioned that he could not believe his eyes. He was standing witness to a crime and forbidden to do anything.

“We left that afternoon at 4:30pm with three vehicles and our furniture thanks to friends and neighbours who sent transport to assist us without us having to ask. We will be forever grateful. They were fantastic. I reminded myself that we were lucky we had not been beaten or murdered like so many others. My crops, livestock, tractors and workshop equipment was all left behind. In a few hours we had lost everything. Three generations had worked hard to build what was taken in a day.

“On the night of 12 December 2003, one of my workers who had been with me for 12 years was called by Mujati and accused of being a ‘sell out’. He was beaten, tied up in a net and dumped into the swimming pool. He was lucky to survive. Another one of my workers who was looking after my cattle was subjected to threats and had to flee. He later returned to carry on with his work.

“The next day, a Saturday I went to the farm with the police but was not allowed into the yard and not allowed to speak to any of my workers. I was very worried about them and anxious to find out if they were alright but forbidden to do so. Mujati told me that he was now also the owner of my crops, and said he would pay for all of them as well as my equipment (to this day 4 years on I have not received a cent and have lost millions of Rands). I had paprika, maize and tobacco almost ready to be reaped. He told me my workers were to stop working and that I should pay them their gratuities as he would then take them over, and that our domestic staff were to leave the farm.

“I was told by Mujati in the presence of a police Superintendent that none of my tractors and equipment would be used by him or moved off the farm. Soon after I left the tractors were sent out to work.

“After having meetings with the Governor of Manicaland I was told I could finish my crops, but was never allowed to do so. Then I had a call from Mujati telling me to get my cattle off the farm but I refused as I had no where to put them. He then ordered the cattle to be left in the pens with no water or food. A few days later I managed to get Mrs Harrison of the SPCA to visit the farm to try to save the cattle and she reported back that they were being looked after by my workers in spite of Mujati’s instructions.

“On Tuesday (13^{th Jan}) I obtained another High Court Order instructing me to return to my house and farm and remain there until all my crops had been reaped. After the case I agreed to meet Mujati at the farm on the Friday, but he did not appear.

“The next day a truckload of thugs arrived at the house I was temporarily staying at, warning me against meeting Mujati. They warned me not to go to the farm as I would be ‘dealt with’ and the house I was staying in would be burnt to the ground. The home did not belong to me. It belonged to very good friends of mine who were kind enough to let us stay there in the interim. The mob also told me that the police had nothing to do with this matter.”‘Tienie’ and Charlotte have not been back to their farm or home and live with little more than memories in a small rented town-house in Harare.

The homestead, so recently a study in rural refinement and elegance that radiated warmth and good cheer is dank and dark. The garden that once bloomed in a riot of colour, a testament to the life of ‘Tienie’s mother ‘Miemps’ and then Charlotte who tended it with passion and care, is now a mass of miserable weeds. The farm that pulsed with productive endeavour is derelict, and the buildings are broken. ‘Tiny Farm’ is sliding swiftly back into the state it was in when ‘Tienie’s forebears arrived over eighty years ago.

But there is a sad twist in the tail of this sad saga. ‘Tiny Farm’ home of Joseph Mujati, looks set to do what Marthinus Martin failed to do; produce a rugby Springbok. Brian Mujati is an odds-on favourite to play against Wales next month.

‘Tienie’ wishes Brian all the best in his rugby future.

Brian Mujati, John Smit (50) and Andries Bekker with their caps

How many Rhodesians have lost everything to pay for Brian's chance to play Springbok?
That reminds me of the time, not so many years ago, when I was working in a Fylde hostelry and had this African Adonis and his under age schoolgirl friend swapping saliva in a corner of the public bar. After informing this highly excited maiden that I thought she was under-age and was leaving that instant, potential Loverboy told me she was with him and she was of age.
"No N'dabe,"replied me. "For you, M'Shona, I have sent for one of my RAR sergeants." I think he broke 9seconds for the first 200 yards.
When asked how I knew he was Zimbabwian, the reply was simple. When you have lived in Africa you learn the sounds and the smells, the shapes and the dispositions - otherwise you ended up dead.