A Farewell to a Friend of Zimbabwe 🇿🇼🇬🇧
His Excellency Pete Vowles,@PeteVowles , the United Kingdom's Ambassador to Zimbabwe, is nearing the end of his tour of duty, and with his departure Zimbabwe bids farewell to a diplomat unlike any other.
As far as I can remember, no British Ambassador to Zimbabwe has endeared himself to ordinary Zimbabweans quite the way Pete has.
His warmth, humility, infectious personality and ability to connect with people from all walks of life earned him something that cannot be conferred by governments or written into diplomatic credentials, the genuine affection and respect of the people.
Over the past eight years, Pete has quietly helped thaw relations between Zimbabwe and the United Kingdom at a time when historical baggage and political differences could easily have kept the two nations apart.
He achieved this not through grandstanding or headlines, but through people.
Through supporting Zimbabwean farmers seeking access to UK markets.
Through engaging local businesses, charities and communities. Through listening more than he spoke. Through showing up where others often would not.
Yet none of this surprises me.
Long before he became Ambassador, Pete was a young teacher in rural Mudzi in the early 1990s. It was there that his enduring connection with Zimbabwe was born.
He travelled across the countryside, immersed himself in local culture, played slug at rural business centres, drew water from wells, shared meals with villagers, slept by candlelight and embraced life as it was lived by ordinary Zimbabweans.
He learnt our language ,our customs, and most importantly, he learnt our people.
That connection never left him.
I have always believed that, deep down, Zimbabwe is not merely another posting on Pete's diplomatic résumé. It is his second home.
That became even more evident in 2023 when @TeamFuloZim launched the #AmbassadorsCookOffZW,inviting ambassadors accredited to Zimbabwe to prepare a beloved Zimbabwean dish, Highfiridzi.
Pete was the first ambassador to put up his hand.
That was Pete all over.
Not because he wanted the spotlight, but because he genuinely embraced opportunities to engage with Zimbabweans beyond the formalities of diplomatic life.
What happened next speaks volumes about his influence and the goodwill he enjoyed among his peers.
Pete encouraged fellow diplomats to participate, helping build momentum behind the initiative. Soon ambassadors and senior diplomats from across the diplomatic community signed up and embraced the challenge with enthusiasm.
What followed was something truly special.
Diplomats left the comfort of embassy walls, visited local markets, bought ingredients, lit fires, cooked in clay pots and immersed themselves in Zimbabwean culture. They laughed, learnt, shared stories and connected with ordinary Zimbabweans in ways that traditional diplomacy rarely allows.
The Cook-Off became far more than a cooking competition.
It became a bridge between cultures.
And Pete was there at the very beginning, helping make it happen.
One of my fondest memories was welcoming Pete and Hannah into our family home in Mount Pleasant, where they met my mother, Mama Rose, my children, brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews.
By the end of the visit, they did not feel like distinguished guests.
They felt like family.
Perhaps that is what made Pete different.
He understood that diplomacy is ultimately about people,not buildings,not protocols. People.
When future historians look back on Pete Vowles' time in Zimbabwe, they will undoubtedly speak about trade, diplomacy and bilateral relations.
Those things matter.
But many Zimbabweans will remember something else.
A man who was just as comfortable sitting around a fire in the rural areas as he was attending a diplomatic reception.
A man who embraced our culture, respected our people and made a genuine effort to understand the country he came to represent.
@TheLifeZoomer Does the Chair @KingJayZim know that there is a "lingo successor" already to his throne? Has been laughing reading your recent posts, kunyanya yema soja pahembe iyo
If life humbles you properly in Africa first, nothing can ever intimidate you later. 😂
This photo may look like “CEO attending a diplomatic summit”…
…but in 1992 I was literally part of a human blood bank for lice in Hwange. 😭
Final year of secondary school.
Mum had one single room at Esinenini. Bedroom. Kitchen. Lounge. Everything.
At that age I was now too old to continue squeezing into that room with Mum and my siblings.
Then Auntie MaNcube rescued me.
She stayed at what we called “KumaMarriage” ‘B’ Section ( Kuma B). House No B126, Lwendulu Village, to be precise. Those famous 3-room semi detached Hwange Colliery company houses.
One bedroom. One kitchen. One sitting room.
Now imagine this:
6 school boys.
One very sick uncle.
Random relatives arriving unannounced in groups of 3 and 4 like refugees escaping a coup. 😂
Nobody brought blankets.
So all of us shared the same overworked blankets on the cold floor.
Then one night we started feeling things moving on our bodies.
Not spiritually. Physically. 😭
My late Uncle Leonard, was the first to announce:
“Bafana……….these are lice.”
From there the situation escalated into a full-scale wildlife invasion.
You could literally feel them crawling across your body at night.
We started catching them manually and crushing them between fingers like we were doing quality control inspections. 😭
Turn on the light, blood stains everywhere from defeated lice.
My poor sick uncle would groan dramatically from his illness and then suddenly shout:
“Whoever bewitched me has now sent these lice to finish me completely!” 😂😂
We would laugh until tears came out.
Then disaster struck.
One lice agent attempted to destroy my entire future by appearing on my school shirt collar during school assembly. 😭
Thank God my friend, Augustine Sillar (see photo below) spotted it quietly, removed it professionally like a bomb disposal expert, and whispered:
“Tazo……….Jack, uhamba lamaSotsha.” 😭( My guy, you moving with soldiers)
The embarrassment nearly killed me.
And the painful part? I was a very smart boy.
Well-ironed shirt. Tie perfectly straight. Socks pulled up to knee level like a disciplined young gentleman. Deputy Headboy and well respected.
And add more pain, my “You don’t have a sweet tongue” crash was only a few bodies away from me😭😭😭😭
Meanwhile a lice delegation was attending assembly with me. 😭
That weekend we gathered drums, made a secret fire behind the house and literally boiled blankets and clothes like a military emergency operation.
That was the first peaceful sleep in months.
Today people see suits, cars, nice houses and polished photos like this.
They don’t know that in 1992 I was fighting for my lives against organised lice syndicates. 😂
Africa will humble you first before it crowns you.
What’s the most embarrassing struggle you look back at today and just shake your head? 😂
Charamba gave birth. It’s a lesson that in life, we are all useful to something. Others may not be useful politically but the names carry massive blessings in the cattle industry. Such is life Sichaba sa Mulimu !!