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Roselyne Sachiti Features Editor
He is unassuming, down to earth. Always resplendent in his church uniform, a pair of khaki shorts, matching shirt and socks, he resembles the pensioner next door.
Eddie Pfugari (80), one of the pioneers of the black economic empowerment crusade and owner of Eddie’s Pfugari Properties, is a leading property mogul.

He has had his fair share of ups and downs and meekly talks about them as if they are of no significance.

Yet, once he shares his life story, a “sleeping giant” within him suddenly awakens.

“I worked hard to earn all that I have. It was through hard work and did not come on a silver platter. What my parents had belonged to them, not me.”

Early life: Born at Howard Mission in Chiweshe in 1934, Pfugari finds it rather hilarious that he does not remember his exact birthday.

As a young boy, Pfugari and his siblings were fortunate. They had decent education and all the comforts that came with their rural life.

The entrepreneurial flair and gift to take risks and the desire to create a business was inherent.

His polygamous father, Nyanyiwa, who died in 1978, was rich and was one of the pioneers of rural shops, popularly known as general dealers.

He was issued with a hawkers’ licence in 1938. Pfugari’s mother, Mary, who died in 2010 aged 110 was one of his father’s eight wives.

“My father had 70 children. My mother took good care of my nine siblings and me, moulding us into responsible adults under the pressures of the colonial era. Above all, she taught us to work hard,” he adds.

Pikinini, banishment: Pfugari came to Harare, then Salisbury, in the early 1950s immediately obtaining a drivers’ licence, fulfilling his childhood dream.

“I took the driver’s test and passed on March 11, 1950. I immediately secured a job as a driver for a departmental store along First Street, but only worked there for three days,” he reveals.

Just like many black people, Pfugari became a victim of unfair labour practices and racism.

“While at work, I noticed that the knees of most black workers were very hard, rough and dark. I discovered that they cleaned the floors while on their knees at all times,” he says.

Pfugari had just returned from one of his routine assignments when his employer ordered him to trade his driving job for the floors.

“The white man said ‘Pikinini, remove the driver’s jacket and clean the floors.

“I refused and they took me to a police station. I was charged under the Master and Servant law,” he recalls.

It being a Friday, Pfugari would only appear in court the following Monday.

“While in detention, some of the inmates coached me on what to say in court. Hoping for mercy, I told the two white policemen that my dad had sold all his cattle to get me to Salisbury and get a driver’s licence,” he adds.

But still, the system oppressed blacks, extremely.

“The white magistrate knew I was innocent since I had been asked to do a job that was not mine. He verified my licence and found it valid.

“They were still determined to get me out of Salisbury. He then told my employer that he would help him and charged me with the Vagrant Act.

“I was banished and could no longer work in Salisbury,” he reminisces.

Back in Chiweshe, despite his father’s wealth, Pfugari pondered his next move.

The “walk of shame” from the bright lights of the city is not what he had anticipated.

Two years passed while he helped his father by driving their lorry and doing other chores.

“I left Zimbabwe for South Africa in 1952. It was easy since no passport was required.

“In South Africa, I took another licence and worked at a train station,” he says.

It was in Sofiatown where the young Pfugari would rub shoulders with the likes of Dorothy Masuku and Miriam Makeba.

“We would attend the same movie theatres. I also married my first wife there. We divorced before I returned home,” he says with a chuckle.

“I was always immaculately dressed. I was featured in three different newspapers as the best dressed man in Johannesburg. Even back in Salisbury, I was the best dressed,” he bragged.

Birth of a mogul: It was while in South Africa that Pfugari found his love and passion for the property business.

It only took one encounter with a Dr Nxumalo, who owned many houses for him to finally carve his future.

“I asked him what all the houses were for and his answer inspired me,” he said.

Pfugari eventually returned home in 1962 and bought his first house in Egypt, Highfield.

Just as he was preparing to go back to South Africa, he mysteriously fell ill and all prescribed medicines just did not work.

“I even stroked and doctors told me that I was a write-off and should go to the village.

“Guta ra Jehovha (GRJ) church members prayed for me and I was healed. I repented and never left that church.”

Unbeknown to the young Pfugari, fate had “just stretched its hand” to give him his golden egg — it was just a matter of time before he could realise it.

In 1963, Pfugari married his second wife Mildred Nhliziyo and had seven children.

Nhliziyo died in 2008.

In 2010, he married Selina Masuka.

Back in the 60’s he also worked for a swimming pool construction company. This was to become his passion for a while.

“We constructed the swimming pool at Zimbabwe House. I even thought that would be my line of business,” he adds.

His first business, a café in the backyards of Harare’s Highfield high-density suburb, started off modest.

“We would cook our food in those black Kango pots mainly used in households. I had seen the concept of cooking sadza in backyard eateries in South Africa. We would only know how much we made that day at 11pm.

“I aimed bigger and always did things differently.”

As he had predicted, the business was an instant success and Pfugari moved into the CBD where he opened his first restaurant at Charge Office in 1978.

It was not easy, indigenous people could not access financial resources because of lack of collateral security.

In any case, institutional racism was a barrier for many.

Pfugari, however, clearly outwitted the system.

“The white owner said he did not want Africans. He feared we would only cook sadza and open butcheries thereby lowering standards. I doubled the money he was charging, and the business was mine,” he explains.

By 1979, Pfugari opened more restaurants and butcheries down town. He was also happy, the country was to finally become independent in a few months’ time.

But he still craved for more and wanted to put his profits to good use.

“In 1979, I bought my first farm, Evington now Samaita Farm from Edward Scrace. The farm is in Beatrice.

“I wanted to expand my horizons and also built a roadside restaurant and store at Red Acre Farm also in the same area,” he adds.

Building Knowe: Then a few years later, an advert in the newspaper captured his attention.

It would fulfil his dream, that of owning a township.

“The advert was for the Knowe, a farm in Norton. I sold Evington Farm to a Mr Tubu. He also sold it to the late national hero Tichaona Jokonya.

“I bought the Norton Farm and cleared my debt between 1984 and ’85. My dream was to develop a township.

“I applied for a permit to build a township and permission was granted in 1996,” he adds.

Developments at Knowe started slowly, eventually peaking and blossoming into Knowe suburb, home to  music superstar Oliver Mtukudzi.

“I would also buy old houses in Harare and renovate them for resale. I am currently building 14 cluster houses along Oxford Avenue in Highlands,” says Pfugari who owns properties from number 32 to 42 Mbuya Nehanda in the CBD.

Whitecliff: In 1998, a now established Pfugari came across another advert also for a farm, Whitecliff, just after Harare’s Kuwadzana Extension high-density suburb.

“The farm was owned by a Mr Freddy Smith. He had two farms. Through lawyers Byron and Venturas, using my savings, I bought Whitecliff and lawyers Manase and Manase were to buy the other,” he recalls.

He did not have enough money and agreed to stagger the payments.

“At one time, I failed to pay the instalments and received threatening letters from the lawyers. I eventually paid up and got the title deeds to the farm. I still have them,” he emphasises.

In 1998, Pfugari applied for permission to develop Whitecliff into a residential area.

“They doubted if a black man could manage such a big project and said they wanted a project manager to do it. I took aboard Mr Ecknet Muguza.

“The project took off as the first survey was carried out. We received most of our paperwork in 1998. I also sought the services of town planner Mr Markdow Machakaire. The process was published in the newspapers,” he adds.

The farm was divided into five phases. After completion of the first phase, Pfugari sold 1 000 stands to various homeseekers who were all given title deeds.

A section was also reserved for customers who intended to venture into market gardening.

According to initial plans, the other three phases would kick off at a later stage.

But the investment he thought as another feather on his property development cap would only bring him headaches and sleepless nights.

It is this same farm that has left many people questioning the character Pfugari viewed as “heartless” by those staying at Whitecliff.

Cocktail of problems: In 2000, a slew of problems started when what he describes as “hordes of people” settled there.

“I do not know where they came from, they just kept coming and building on land I had sold to other people. Some also built where they just wanted. I went to Local Government and National Housing Minister Ignatius Chombo who said he would look into the issue,” he says.

He adds that despite countless visits to Minister Chombo, more people kept coming, he could no longer control them and watched them bite off his cherry.

“It was just shocking,” he adds, “I did not know what to do next. I exhausted all avenues knocking at every door I thought I would get help.”

He was to learn that Government had compulsorily taken over his farm and allocated it to home-seekers.

Government also built at least 300 houses under Operation Garikai/Hlalani Kuhle in the area, while thousands others were allocated residential stands to build homes on their own.

“I remember having about 13 meetings with Minister Chombo over the issue, but it  remains unsolved today.”

Squabbles were to stretch, year-after-year with no solution.

Initially, Pfugari unsuccessfully contested the acquisition of his farm at the Administrative Court before appealing to the Supreme Court.

In November 2013, a Supreme Court order in Pfugari’s favour compelled Whitecliff residents to vacate the farm within five days.

Supreme Court judge Justice Vernanda Ziyambi, sitting with Justices Paddington Garwe and Yunus Omerjee, ruled that the disputed land belonged to Pfugari.

The court ordered the Ministry of Local Government, Rural and Urban Development and those occupying the land through it to vacate.

But even with the Supreme Court ruling, Whitecliff Farm residents stayed put and on three occasions blocked the deputy sheriff from evicting them.

Among the properties set for demolition were Knights Junior School and Matilda David Primary School.

On December 27, 2013, the owner of Matilda David Primary School, Ms Alice Chishamba also filed an urgent chamber application at the Supreme Court seeking to stop Pfugari and the Deputy Sheriff from executing an eviction order.

Pfugari queries the site on which she built the school when she bought land from him.

“The school is built on plots that belong to other people. We had already issued title deeds and they call me every day asking what is happening. I even have nightmares and my wife wakes me up.

“I am old and thought I would be resting now, but customers who bought genuine stands call me asking about their stands. My credibility has been affected by this case. People should learn to work hard not just take what belong to others,” he says.

While some of the settlers claimed they paid US$5 000 for a stand others simply benefited, and Pfugari says he is stunned.

He also wants a quick solution to this issue given that the Lands and Rural Resettlement Ministry conceded it erred when gazetting that land for acquisition.

“Minister (Douglas) Mombeshora said they only acquire land that is of national interest for example where minerals are discovered. He also said I am not the sole owner of Whitecliff as I had sold land to over 800 people. He also said if the land is to be taken, myself and the other 800 should be compensated,” he says.

He adds what surprises him is the disregard of the Supreme Court judgment.

He is desperate.

“I wonder what will move them if the Supreme Court can’t? I am open to dialogue with those who want to regularise their stay. Some

have already started coming to our offices for clarity. They can pay money over a period of time,” he says.

Away from the disputes and office work, he finds solace in his family and big cars.

Eddie’s toys: Indeed, big boys love big toys and Pfugari’s wife Selina says her husband is no exception.

“He loves driving big cars and feels safe in them, he does not like small cars,” she says.

Despite his wealth, Pfugari stays in a modestly built and furnished house.

“I like modest houses. I have never stayed in a very beautiful house, I keep it very simple, even the furniture is effortless, my investments go into the business,” he says.

The many caterpillars, equipment and countless properties he owns are proof.

He is a country music fan and occasionally plays his favourite songs on his home piano.

His quick breakfast away from home includes filter coffee and scones.

He says what sets him apart from the calibre of today’s businessmen is that they want quick money and live large.
He also wants to see the indeginisation drive they started before independence blossom saying “none other than ourselves can empower us.”

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