Accountability.
“From doing what is best, to imposing what you think is best for others is an easy transition if you are not held accountable. With no accountability, there is no measure of what is best for others.”- Peter McSporran
I received a podcast earlier this week which included a review of the Gold Mafia exposé which recently was shown on Al Jazeera. I doubt if many Zimbabweans have not viewed it. This obviously does not include the rural dwellers who do not have electricity, let alone the internet. The content I am sure has been shared, but will the understanding of the events mean anything to those who are missing out on an education, let alone impact on the sponsors?
On the review podcast, there were a number of invitees including a lead journalist from the program plus Rusty Markham amongst others. I do not want to dwell on the program itself but it was what Rusty had to say in the review that had the most impact on me. Why? Because it is something that is so obvious but many of us Zimbabweans ignore and most of the world do not quite understand. That is, within Zimbabwe if you are a senior member, including the state President of the party, there is no accountability whatsoever. I know I harp on about the Scottish National Party (SNP), but under Sturgeon, they became so cocky they forgot there would be a day of reckoning. Fortunately, there is still the rule of law in Scotland - just.
“When a national leader thinks he or she is above the law then there is no law for all, only a tool for oppression.” - Peter McSporran
In Zimbabwe, Rusty informed us few that MPs now ever attended parliament in person. Rather, their presence if at all mostly on Zoom while Ministers rarely appeared to answer questions even if on the order book. These could sometimes remain unanswered for years, especially those in regard to financial governance. Approvals are circumvented, as are Acts. No one is held accountable when funds go missing or are misused. Now these are the very people we are being asked to trust in honouring the bonds, which as has happened in the past, very unlikely to be authorised and therefore their validity could be legally challenged at a later date. External legal experts have said that it is one of the most flawed drafts of an agreement they have ever seen. Poor agreements generally mean they are drafted by the clever one party to take advantage of the other through lack of knowledge or poor advice. For us, the Global Compensation Deed (GCD) is true in both regards. For some of us in our desperation, this is being ignored. Do we think we are dealing with criminals who will keep their word? Of interest, all the speakers on the podcast including the investigative team said the 'gold saga' was just the tip of the iceberg.
My old school, that being Keil School, in Dumbarton, the motto was, ‘Persevere in Hope.’ The deputy head, Wee Aye McDonald, told me early on in my school career, “Boy, if you lead your life like that you will surely fail.” I can only think those of us who believe the bonds will be honoured are ‘Persevering in Hope.’
When I was President of the CFU in those far-off days, our credibility as leaders relied on our accountability to the farmers that put us there. Everything we did came under their scrutiny, legal opinion and advice were always sought from professionals. Minutes of meetings were diligently taken and available to all with decisions duly recorded. No decision was ever made unless acceptable to the council or the association executive. You would not dare impose what you thought was best for your members. This would have led you to the door very quickly. Admittedly we were much more cantankerous in those days. You were accountable to your members. This did not stop you from forwarding a proposition and idea but for it to progress you were required to gain consensus through open debate.
Like many ex-farmers this week, I received another ‘non-binding and no-obligation’ survey on whether I wanted to accept the latest offer on the table in the form of ten-year bonds. We are being asked in principle as we were before when we were asked to accept the GCD which at that time was a cash offer. This was also non-binding but when the Government failed to honour the cash part, it did not stop the Compensation Steering Committee (CSC) to pursue it under the guise of ‘What is the alternative?’ Hence, what is on the table now is there on the back of a broken agreement, not good faith.
"When you think you know best, you rarely accept others may know better." - Peter McSporran
I have no doubt the CSC are thinking they know best. But do they? I shudder. Two retired farmers, probably both older than me, with no professional training in law or finance advocating that the unreviewed ‘deal on the table’ should be accepted by us. Even with my little knowledge, despite twenty years in fund and finance, I understand the discount rate is ludicrous for the term on offer and the default interest is more of an incentive for the Government to break it than bind them. The bigger question is, who are they accountable to? Under whose mandate are they representing us? I admire their determination but question if they know best in what they are advocating. Unfortunately, even non-binding agreements once drawn up, especially with Government and monies received will be a lot harder to extradite ourselves from. It will be about interpretation, in Zimbabwe the Governments would probably be recognised by the courts. How complicated will this loss agreement in principle make for our heirs' claims in the future if it is in default. Progress then will only happen when it is unravelled. I envisage a nightmare in the making. Those that are not members of ValCon have no say. What does the CSC offer them? Perhaps they should not have called us ‘hardliners’, rather ‘hot-bloods’ as mine is boiling. How can you put out a survey on a matter which many are relying on to sustain them in old age and say it had errors, blaming the internet which did not draft the document I am sure? Retract it and send it out again. Oh and let's add a closing date which we omitted the last time.
I have attracted some irritated callers from my past postings so I reiterate the concerns in this blog are my own personal ones, others rightly so may differ. I would have thought most have already placed their answer nae or yea aby this time.
Craig Bone the artist as I have mentioned earlier is writing a book, mostly about life, the army and the bush. He recently wrote that he likes to write stories within stories, which makes the reading all the more interesting. So to that effect, I return to last week's fishing trip to Santa Clara.
Casa Nirvana.
My friend, John Tidey was the driver, tour planner and my fishing companion last week. There was four of us in the car as his wife, Margaret, and my wife Rozanne were with us. They planned on a spa day while we thrashed the water in vain. Yes, my fishing is very much of the persevering in hope approach rather than the skilled. Anyway, on the way John informed us, as a bit of a food connoisseur, that he had organised a surprise lunch. Most of us in the car still suffering from flu did not pick up the fact that he said the venue for lunch was exotic. It would be compleyely different from our usual fare. In fact, he said it was multinational fare, food from around the world. John is from Newcastle, so while helpful in both advice and assistance he has a strange sense of humour at times. The place by location seemed sensible as it was only half an hour from our fishing destination. We arrived early so disembarking from the car after the four-hour drive, it gave us time to look at the venue through the locked, although somewhat gaudy gates. The name, the first time I considered it, suddenly signalled my brain all was not well. Casa Nirvana.
“Nirvana is a place or state of oblivion to care, pain, or external reality.” - Collins Dictionary
The waiting diners were the second red flag. Mostly arriving in numbers via people carriers, all with long hair, some with dreadlocks, many men with ponytails all wearing loose garments be it trousers, shirts or dresses, the latter to the ground in length. On close inspection, many had dirty toenails, yes, we do get similar types wandering around Africa. Generally, these are of similar background to the snowflake, woke culture and stop everything now advocates. Camouflaged champagne socialists. They are wealthy and do not have to work and feel they are not accountable to anyone but themselves or in this case perhaps to the Mooji, the spiritual leader entrepreneur. Surprisingly, despite no alcohol and the hair on the back of my neck standing up throughout the meal, the food was good. I had Korean soup and Thai curry. Just what you need before an afternoon on a small boat.
That evening, I looked up what the place was all about on the internet. As always, there were many positives and negatives about the organisation that owned the restaurant and the retreats. There are five seemingly around the world. For me, as all such people, I consider them charlatans.
“Casa Nirvana is an extension of the spirit of Monte Sahaja, an ashram and retreat centre where many visitors come to meet and be guided by Moojibaba, an internationally renowned spiritual teacher.” - Casa Nirvana website
The Mooji is a Jamaican chap from Brixton who used to travel to India to collect chai and incense and other paraphernalia to trade back in Brixton. No doubt, the weed he smoked would have helped him in obtaining his spiritual serenity. On seeing the following that the Hindu Gurus attracted, he thought to himself, despite being a beef eater, that he could do that too. Before long, he built a cult around silence with a number of retreats, one of the main ones being here in Portugal. Here you can pay a large sum of money to sit in silence for a week while meditating. He seemingly likes you to kiss his feet as a form of adulation. If you are young and female, according to the internet, you may be asked to do more than kiss his feet.
On reading the numbers involved, it is easy to see, similar to many religious cults and evangelical churches, it is a fantastic money spinner. You can pay anything from $600 to $1,000 to stay in a hut or tent and meditate with him for a week. As many as eight hundred people attend each retreat. Any fool can do the maths to understand it is a much better business model than farming. In saying that, the service and food at the restaurant would indicate that the Mooji does not just rely on his spiritualism to run his business enterprise, but rather some serious managers. I am sure the retreat food is at a much lower level.
Albany, Georgia.
I thought before leaving Albany, Georgia I would talk about a couple of the revelations I found out about America on my first trip there. On this trip and following trips, except those to big cities, I deduced that rural America is full of contradictions. Some communities are highly religious and strictly tee-total, while others live for their alcohol and a lot enjoy drugs. They all have guns.
Firstly, after watching only old American TV shows on ZTV, it was disappointing for me to find most American ladies appeared to enjoy their food. In place of sexy dresses, most wore crimplene trousers. I presume because it can easily stretch five or six times bigger than the size on the label. Please remember this is in the mid-eighties, things may have changed. People ate breakfast, lunch and supper in diners. Portions were huge, all washed down with iced tea. Iced tea is sugar-flavoured water served on crushed ice, it has no semblance to the tea we know as English tea. Coffee may be taken with breakfast, more commonly iced tea. Breakfasts consist of as many biscuits as you can get on your plate, salted bacon rashers, I mean salted, spam, eggs, hash browns along with cakes and buns all smothered in maple syrup. People loaded their plates as they do at Government functions and conferences in Zimbabwe. We would miss out on lunch but wherever we went, we were offered the offensive iced tea. Every business we visited would have an iced tea or coffee dispenser. Spittoons were evident in most offices. Dinner was chicken nuggets, ribs, steak and hash browns. We hardly saw any vegetables in the diners we went to. Sauces in plastic bottles were a-plenty.
Our hosts would keep us in their company for a final call with his bosses at about ten pm. I think this was to prove they were still working, although by that time we would be having a beer in the hotel lobby. Late calls saying they were winding up work for the day seemed to be an accepted practice.
Everyone seemed to have a weapon, just in case, a Yellow Hammer landed close by so they could blow it away. A little like Portugal in that regard, here they shoot Olive Thrushes. Guns were left in open vehicles on gun racks behind the front seats.
In the few late-night bars we went to, everyone drank beer in a bottle with a lemon on the top wrapped in a paper napkin. Shots were dispensed in the form of jellies. Drugs were evident and a surprising number would have strippers who seemed to be as much as the social crowd as entertainers. Eye-opening for a Zimbo farmer. Sadly, drugs were very evident. If we were taken out, our hosts would insist on another meal at the diner even if it was four am. Luckily, George and I went our separate ways, him home, me to Nashville. Too much of that country life would have killed me.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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