By Fanuel Viriri
Gweru has lost one of its own.
Shabhiri was a master mechanic. From the days when he fixed the Peugeot 404s that plied the streets and known as “emergency taxis” — the ETs — to the era of the latter-day mshikashika Honda Fits, if a car moved in Gweru, Shabhiri’s hands had been in its engine.
Shabhiri had seen it all. From Mai Shoko’s commuter omnibus fleet branded “Shoot”, to Mhishi’s Dyna Clipper, popularly known as “Chimhishi”. Mhishi made his money with his mini-bus transporting people from Mkoba to town, yet preferred to walk the same distance himself in his traditional garb. You would see that lone figure on foot as his bus rumbled into town on the road.
Shabhiri saw the days when Virginia Mabhiza (Attorney General), Neville Wamambo (High Court judge), Leopold Mudisi (lawyer) were prosecutors at the Gweru Magistrates Court, when Pisa Pisa (Gweru United Football Club) was run by lawyer late Noah Banda, and when Patrick Kombayi was Mayor.
He saw movies screened at the Embassy and the Gweru Theatre. He saw the Gweru Times move from hard copy to online. He saw Gweru with nightclubs like Dandaro and Msopero before Uptown came on stream. He saw Timofhy Mukahlera being appointed the MP for Gweru Central representing MDC.
He saw Morgan Tsvangirai, Job Sikhala and Nelson Chamisa address the first MDC rally at the bus stop near Mkoba Golf course in Village 5 early in the morning in front of close to close to 60 people before it went big.
Shabhiri saw Ishmael Petker work the Mahogany discotheque turntables. He saw Mai Berveley run her restaurant and odds and end shops.
Shabhiri saw it all.
I first met him in the early 1990s through Emmanuel Takaedza — Manu. Manu ran the school run for parents in Mkoba, in his vintage truck aptly named Kamala. Manu trusted only one man to keep Kamala alive, and to look after his father’s fleet of taxis. That man was Shabhiri, born Shabir Fazilahmed. Shabhiri’s father was a mechanic with top bus company Tombs Bus Service and that’s how he started fixing cars. Shabhiri was the son of Fatima Stoddart Fazelahmed and Makeke Fazelahmed of Raylands in Gweru.
He never went to any college but knew car engines like the back of his hand. Shabhiri went to Chaplin High School. He grew up old fixing cars.
He was more than a mechanic. He was a fixture.
Shabhiri loved his work, and he loved his beer. A lager before he started, and another while he worked. His hands were always greasy, and his laugh was always loud.
He was known across Gweru. Even if you didn’t own a car, you knew Shabhiri from the bars. He was like the Boggies Clock — always there, come rain or thunder.
I also knew him through Debra, his wife, who did my wife’s hair and nails for years.
The last time I spoke to him was on a WhatsApp video call last year. He was at Jivans with his friends, lawyer Thomas Militao and car salesman Owen Gibson. I was far from Gweru, but I could feel the warmth back home as the guys took turns to speak to me. Mlitao updated me on the progress of Mhangura legend Tendai Chieza based in Gweru who was a bit under the weather and recovering from a stroke.
The beer was flowing. The town was celebrating because Washington Navaya had brought the Soccer Star of the Year trophy home. Shabhiri was beaming. He was proud, as Gweru was proud. The trophy had made a pit stop at the popular watering hole, Jivans. Shabhiri, as always, did not miss the fanfare.
Shabhiri had lived through so many generations in this city that he seemed ageless. Only in recent years did he begin to show all the years he had seen. His beard was turning grey. Shabhiri literally knew everyone in Gweru by name.
He was a man of coloured descent, but I never heard him speak a word of English. Shona sat better on his tongue. With it came the crude jokes, the stories, and the easy warmth that made everyone feel at home around him.
Now the workshops are quieter. The bars are quieter. The cars of Gweru will be fixed by other hands, but they will not be fixed by Shabhiri.
Go well, mate.
Thank you for the laughter, for the fixes, and for being such a constant part of Gweru.
A spanner in one hand, a beer in the other, and a joke always ready. Thank you for being that jovial character in Gweru.
