June 2011

Ben Freeth’s home on Mount Carmel farm is burnt to the ground

We were driving back to the farm after church one Sunday when we saw a fire. It looked like it was close to the house. Mike and Angela had come down from Harare to have Sunday lunch with us and I could see Angela standing near the gate with a hose, red in the face from the heat and looking very stressed. There was a strong wind and the fire was galloping in from the south. I drove straight into the garden and ran to help. A number of people had come from the main Mount Carmel worker village and from next door. We tried to burn back from the firebreaks but the wind was too strong and the fire jumped over the breaks. We ripped branches from the trees and tried to smother the flames, beating furiously.

I only had one knapsack sprayer as the thugs had taken all the rest. It was impossible. Sparks were flying through the tinder dry grass, igniting new fires even before the main fire reached them. I hadn’t realized how difficult it was to put a grass fire out without the proper equipment. Normally fire-fighting was relatively simple. The crackling of the flames was deafening and the heat was intense. My face and arms were soon scorched red. Before we knew it, the flames had enveloped one of the worker’s houses and spread through the roof. The wind blew them into an inferno and within seconds the whole roof was alight. Sparks flew onto nearby roofs.

The houses were all burning too quickly to save anything from inside them. I shouted, “Let’s save the factory! You can live in the factory,” but there was so much noise and emotion that nobody responded. They were wailing and crying. They had lost everything.