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lite.cnn.com - on gopher - inofficial
ARTICLE VIEW:
Exiled for standing up to a ‘vicious dictator,’ former cricketer
Henry Olonga finds solace in singing career
By George Ramsay, CNN
Updated:
11:16 AM EDT, Tue April 16, 2024
Source: CNN
Henry Olonga was at the peak of his career as a professional cricketer
when he took a stance that would ultimately force him to leave
Zimbabwe.
To many, the idea of standing up to autocratic political leadership
was too perilous, the risk too great. But Olonga was acutely aware of
life beyond bowling a cricket ball at : he enjoyed singing, drama,
and art, and was just beginning to discover his political voice.
“I didn’t want to be just a cricketer, just a fast bowler, because
I was never wired that way,” Olonga tells .
By 2003, having grown increasingly disillusioned with Zimbabwe’s late
former president, the then-26-year-old Olonga and teammate Andy Flower
chose to wear a black armband for the country’s World Cup game
against Namibia, highlighting what the pair called “the death of
democracy” under Mugabe.
February 10 marks the anniversary of the protest in 2003, an event that
ultimately forced both men into exile from their homeland.
Flower would go on to finish his playing days in England before
embarking on a long and successful career as an international coach. He
to Zimbabwe last year, but Olonga, the country’s first ever Black
cricketer to play for the national team, says that he isn’t yet
ready to take that step. Some wounds are slow to heal.
“I never go where I’m not invited and I don’t stay where I’m
not wanted,” says Olonga, speaking from his home in Adelaide,
Australia. “It’s become a bit of a personal motif of mine. And if
I get the perception that I’m still not wanted in Zimbabwe, you bet
your bottom dollar I ain’t going.”
These days, Olonga is more concerned with pursuing his career as a
singer.
A talented choirboy in school, he has performed at all manner of venues
– pubs, gala dinners, churches, retirement villages, schools,
universities – and received a surge in popularity after appearing on
in 2019.
“I see myself doing the music till the day I die,” he says, adding:
“For me, it’s a passion. It really is … I want to sell music to
people and get paid, but ultimately, I like to perform and I love
bringing pleasure to people.”
His career as a fiercely quick bowler now seems a lifetime ago, so too
the way in which it ended and his subsequent treatment in his country.
The emotions, though, are still raw: after the World Cup protest,
Olonga explains how he was “vilified” as a “rebel” and
“controversial figure” in Zimbabwe.
“The sadness comes from the fact that the very people I was trying to
help, represent … saw me as the enemy,” says Olonga.
He received death threats following his public show of dissent but
remains unsure if he was ever formally charged by the government with
treason, which is punishable by death in Zimbabwe.
Forced into temporary hiding, Olonga managed to flee Africa and start a
new life in England.
“I found it bizarre that a lot of people didn’t see that what I did
was to my own hurt for their benefit,” he says. “At least, I was
hoping that I was representing the voiceless or the people who
couldn’t speak out for themselves, or the people who didn’t have a
platform, only for that to be thrown back in my face.”
Olonga’s view of Mugabe’s rule had evolved in the years leading up
to the World Cup in 2003. Throughout most of his schooling in the
1980s, he believed Zimbabwe’s then-leader to be a hero who fought
against White minority rule and helped to give Black people the vote.
“To my young mind, he was one of the legends of the political changes
that came into Rhodesia and enabled Zimbabwe to be the nation it
became,” says Olonga.
However, it was after meeting, and later befriending, – who would
go on to become Zimbabwe’s minister for education, sport, arts and
culture – that Olonga says he first heard Mugabe described as a
dictator, and from that moment, he became more inquisitive.
“I really did feel hoodwinked,” he adds. “I’d been convinced
that Mugabe was this liberation war hero, only to find out that in
actuality, he was a vicious dictator who was happy to stop at nothing
to hold onto power and get rid of opponents.”
Following a guerrilla war in 1980 which led to Zimbabwe’s
independence, Mugabe came to power and mounted a brutal crackdown
against his opponents, notably as his government was accused of
killing tens of thousands of ethnic Ndebele people during the
Gukurahundi massacres.
Mugabe consolidated his leadership in 1987 – assuming the office of
president and head of the armed forces – and maintained power with
the support of the army and through a series of controversial
elections.
But in the 1990s, the country’s economy began to spiral following
the amendment of laws which allowed the government to purchase land for
resettlement and redistribution.
As hyperinflation gripped Zimbabwe, Mugabe gave his blessing in 2000
for roving bands of so-called war veterans to embark on often-violent
seizures of hundreds of White-owned farms they claimed had been stolen
by settlers.
Many of the farms were then turned over to Mugabe’s cronies, who
subsequently did not harvest the land, further contributing to
Zimbabwe’s economic collapse.
It was against this backdrop that Olonga and Flower decided to
undertake their black armband protest.
“Staying silent wasn’t going to be an option for me in the face of
some of the grim realities that a lot of Zimbabweans faced,” says
Olonga. “Farm invasions, human rights violations, corruption,
mismanagement, all of that. And you had a young man who was just fed
up.”
Mugabe attracted both fierce criticism and loyal support throughout his
37-year rule, which ended when he was forced out of power in 2017, two
years before his death.
Olonga’s stance against Mugabe came at huge personal cost. He
continued to play cricket for an invitational team in England after
leaving Zimbabwe, but his eight-year professional career came to an
end.
He labels his bowling “a bit loose, very erratic and somewhat
inaccurate,” though such a description underplays the speed of
Olonga’s right-arm deliveries, as well as many of his career
achievements: 30 Test matches, 50 one-day internationals, and best
figures of six wickets for 19 runs in a 50-over match against England
in 2000.
There were lows, too. When he made his debut for Zimbabwe against
Pakistan in 1995, what should have been an occasion for celebration
ended in embarrassment after an 18-year-old Olonga was called for
throwing.
In cricket, a bowler’s action is deemed to be illegal if the elbow is
straightened by more than 15 degrees between the point at which the arm
is horizontal and the ball is released.
That immediately drew derision from fans, and Olonga subsequently spent
time at academies in India, Australia, and South Africa to reshape his
technique and escape the stigma of being a “chucker” – a term
applied to those called for throwing.
“It would be a terrible story for the first Black player [on
Zimbabwe’s national team] to fail so miserably at the first
hurdle,” he explains.
Shortly before his debut – he was also Zimbabwe’s youngest-ever
international cricketer – Olonga had been offered a scholarship at a
music and dramatic arts academy in London.
At the time, he was advised that there was scope for young, Black
singers to land roles on the West End, and he says that he “seriously
considered” the opportunity until cricket took over.
In the meantime, Olonga tried to keep up his singing alongside playing
cricket, but soon found that the two pursuits didn’t sit well
together, particularly in a male-dominated sport.
“It’s kind of in people’s perception of masculinity … it was
never embraced,” he says. “I think also to a lot of people, it
maybe comes off as a bit tacky or cheesy.”
Today, he has found a way to incorporate singing happily into his
life.
“Music is very therapeutic to the soul. Hopefully, for the person
listening, and, hopefully, for the performer,” says Olonga.
“I think I’m now at a place where I can make people feel something.
I’m not going to say I’m a master of my craft, but I’m pretty
sure of what I can do and what my limits are. It’s enjoyable for me
as well in that it’s a beautiful outlet for me to express myself.”
Olonga says that he’s sitting on “20 years’ worth” of music to
release and – “I’m a broke musician, a broke singer, broke ,
broke everything,” he adds – to fund his ambitious project of
performing with an orchestra.
But he has few complaints about his current life. Now settled with his
wife and two daughters in the South Australian city of Adelaide, Olonga
enjoys playing sports, painting and sketching, on top of his singing.
His cricket-playing days behind him, he’s recently launched a and
started competing in javelin and shot put at local track and field
events.
Those were sports that Olonga enjoyed growing up but had neglected
during his time as a professional cricketer, a period on which he now
reflects with conflicting emotions.
“I look at it with fondness,” he says. “I had some great moments.
We as a team had some amazing triumphs. But it was bittersweet for me
at the end.
“Now, I’m creating new memories in a new sphere and a new world,
and I’m thoroughly enjoying it … I’ve found peace here.”
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