Beating Chains

Russell Wayne(Rusty) Labuschagne – Born 2 November 1961 in West Nicholson, Zimbabwe.

At the tender age of 6, I was sent to a cruel boarding school 200km away, where I longed for the fishing and outdoor life I loved so dearly. Tragically I lost my larger than life dad in ’73, shattering and changing our lives forever.

I left school in 1980 and worked as an apprentice fitter and machinist, during which time I was fortunate enough to make the national rugby squad. In mid ’82, I ventured into the safari industry as a learner guide, got married later that year, and within seven years, we had two beautiful children, Dusty and Sandy, who became my life.

In 1988 I formed a safari operation, founded a water well drilling business, and in 1989 bought a 40,000-acre cattle ranch with 820 head of cattle, all on credit.

Sadly, in ’93, my saint of a mother passed away from breast cancer, and two years later, my marriage fell apart. But by 2000, I was making plenty of money in my safari business, flying my own aircraft, had a fishing resort on Lake Kariba, flashy cars, speed boats, houseboats, and was happily engaged.

In December 2000, I was wrongly accused of drowning a fish poacher and on 3 April 2003, during the height of the political lawless land invasion chaos in Zimbabwe – against police evidence, without a body, and on presumptions, I was convicted of drowning that poacher and sentenced to 15 years in Zimbabwe’s prisons, of which five were suspended. Utterly humiliated, my life changed forever.

We were seventy-eight inmates in a cell 13m x 3m, with 33cm each marked out on the walls in chalk – packed like sardines with legs all crossing over in the middle. We all faced the same direction, when you turned over, it was all together. There were no basin or taps in the cells, so we had to wash our only set of clothes in the cell toilets at night wearing a blanket then hang them on the walls with smuggled book staples to dry by the next morning.

In 2005 Harare City ran out of water. Each prisoner was allocated only one cup of dirty orange city run-off water a day, carried by farm prisoners from a nearby dam. That was to drink, clean your teeth, wash your face, bath, everything – for three years.

During my first six years in prison, I watched over 2200 prisoners die, primarily from malnutrition. It was during the Zimbabwe dollar crash when there was no food outside the prison; never mind in there.

The conditions were horrific, but during those treacherous years – I learned what “a spiritual and positive mental attitude,” “the power of forgiveness,” “the importance and value in gratitude,” and what “true freedom” really mean.

My resilience, empathy, and tolerance were tested to breaking point, but little did I know it was all in God’s plans, preparing me for greater things.