We lost a staff member, the world lost a good person

Bulawayo, Zimbabwe – The Courteney Boot Company lost its head clicker and spokesman, Misheck Sibanda, in September. Such was the force of his personality, the length of his service, his knowledge and experience, that it was a shocking loss.  I can’t count the hours he and I spent hanging over the leather table talking about leather, clicking, patterns, knives, styles, and any number of factory issues.

He and his best friend and Courteney’s Rapid Stitcher man, Enoch Majaya, started work together at G&D Shoes, moved together to Footwear & Rubber Industries, and together came across with John Rice to Courteney at its start in 1993.

On his way to work before 7 o’clock on Monday 18 September, he was struck by a car driven by a man who had been out all-night partying.

The next week was spent in shock and devastation, tears permanently close to the surface, or running freely, at night sleep impossible.  The factory was closed on Monday, the day of the tragedy, and on Friday, the day of his funeral service.  In between work has been easily abandoned to share personal stories, and there have been so many.  

His service was held at his home.  To say it was moving is an understatement.  It began at 7.30am, and finished with the viewing of the body in time for departure for the cemetery at 10am, and during that time mourners continued to arrive.  Not just in a dribble but by the combi load, by the three-tonne truck load, by Zupco bus load.  Throughout the speeches - and there were many - people dressed beautifully, expensively, and people dressed humbly but in their best, picked their way through the ever-tightening congregation trying to find scarce real estate in Misheck’s garden.  Men squeezed together under the hanging branches of the naartjie tree, laden with fruit Misheck will never eat, and stood pressed against his garden wall.  From sitting on their own wraps women began to share, three and four to a wrap spread on the ground.  By 9am there wasn’t a square inch available, and the later comers thronged in the road outside the walls.  With the advantage of chairs, we, the Courteney management, enjoyed generous space which dwindled with the continuing arrivals until our legs were all pushed to the side and pressed together, and ample women on the ground leaned against our knees.  We said, “Don’t worry – it’s fine.”  Because for a few precious hours we were all close family sharing one common grief.

Misheck had been a senior office bearer in the local community organisation and had been transformative, and always the first to help. He had a special way with words, could easily identify the essence of a problem, and always made the listener feel lighter, less burdened.

Nothing was too much trouble for him, no distance too great to travel, when his family and community needed him.  Speaker after speaker stood to talk about how Misheck’s ability to listen, his wise council, generosity of spirit and kindness had been as a strong pillar in their lives.  Some spoke in barely more than a whisper, some with power and authority, a few in frustration and anger at the enormity of their loss.

Afterwards I asked myself, if I was taken tomorrow would people from my community arrive, and keep arriving in their droves, to say goodbye to me?  Would my neighbours speak with passion about how my door was always open to them?  How their children were my children?  Would they, and my friends and colleagues, appreciate how my kindness had lifted them?  Would everyone at my funeral show such pure respect for me, such abject despair at losing me, as I saw today?  Would all these people feel sick to their marrow as I do now?  

Am I anything at all like Misheck – utterly selfless, deeply loved?  Have I lived my life to its fullest potential as he did?

It's sobering to have to admit that the answer to all these questions is no.

Can I learn from this appalling week?  Maybe not - we are who we are, but I can certainly try.  I want to always remember Misheck’s grace, and try each day to follow his example, to any degree, no matter how small.  

Perhaps everyone who was there feels the same.  It wouldn’t surprise me that Misheck has left this world a better place for having been in it.