Last week I wrote about many of my worst decisions being based on petty prejudice. That is; pre-conceived negative opinions not based on fact, just negative perceptions. We are all guilty of these. Often they are directed at people rather than things, therefore can have a negative impact on others’ lives, sometimes unbeknown to the victim.
“Having a prejudice against someone despite your victims being unaware of your malice makes you no less guilty of bad faith.” - Peter McSporran
The other perception known as ‘bias’ is similar but often based on experience or the experience of others, often in professional environments, whose judgement you think you can trust. I am the first to admit after spending time in Rhodesia that equality between races was one of the challenges many of us had to readjust to after independence. The trouble with prejudices and biases, they are very hard to shed. They require an active thought process, almost character changing. They need much conscious effort.
“One of the worst personal sins is to hide your prejudices rather than addressing them as a fault in your own character.” - Peter McSporran
In 1976 when I phoned my parents to inform them I was going to get married, the first question my father asked was, “Is the lady in question roman catholic?” Living in Rhodesia I thought his first question would have been about race. On Mull in my early childhood, the only person of colour we saw was an Indian clothes salesman who came around twice a year selling his wares out of a suitcase. I should remind you, my father, being a good Protestant despite rarely seeing the inside of a church other than to attend weddings or funerals, would not or at the very least be loathed to employ a roman catholic. That is proper prejudice.
In later life, I took some international ‘arbitration’ courses including exams which really helped in teaching me how to set aside influencing pre-conceptions real or imagined. That is to look at everything on merit as it stands. Hard, as if you have to review a claim where the one party is a known crook or shyster even by rumour. It is hard to keep focused on the case to hand without these external mindsets interfering with judgement.
Becoming a cattle judge at agricultural shows as I advanced into judging interbreeds, it was hard to set my bias aside. When it was breed judging it was much easier, the traits and required confirmation were common. When it came to interbreeds it was much harder as all livestock producers have their favourite breeds, often specific traits for their system or environment, in some instances even pertaining to colouring. I hope I managed to overcome those biases, despite having an occasional pang when I put one of my least favourite breeds at the top of the standings.
Because I attended the 1995 Rugby World Cup Final with my great friend Vernon Nicolle I have always supported South African rugby since that day, even in preference to Scotland. I know when I watch them playing, I am always biased towards them whether they are the better team or not just because they won that epic game in the final against New Zealand. Yes, I have inherent biases, we all have.
I prefer the Scots over the English although the antics of the Nationalists in Scotland make me ashamed of being Scottish. When I was young I thought the Scots could do no wrong, an opinion supported by prejudice against all others, especially the English. I rectified this when I learnt that the Scots, while great pioneers and inventors, also had more than their fair share of murderers and thieves amongst them. This took me time to accept, it did not happen overnight.
“In my eyes, a ‘bad’ Scotsman is the lowest of the human race while a ‘good’ one is right there at the top of the heap.” - Peter McSporran
Back to bias when judging cattle. I became a bit of a fundi on judging fatstock on the ‘hoof and hook’. On the hoof; age and weight were the only recorded facts while on the hook there were a greater number of measurable facts on hand such as weight suitability, fat thickness, eye muscle size, killing-out percentage, internal fat waste etc combined with the visual appraisals. So, in knowing how some breeds would look and perform on the hook could influence my judgement on the hoof side. This could be called bias, however, it was based on fact. If it was based on perception then it would have been prejudice.
What am I harping on about here I can hear you asking? Just that our lives would be a lot happier if we could shed our biases and prejudices. Unfortunately, we cannot control the prejudices of others hence the action of people like Putin who has the added sin of self-importance and narcissism.
Talking of Putin, if his attack in the East stalls his army, in all likelihood will face defeat due to low morale compounded by poor leadership and supply. Some of those guys have been on the front-line a long time. While attack is harder than defence in these circumstances, once the impetus is lost the reverse is true. Putin must already be suffering from bees in his head. In the event of this situation in Ukraine getting worse for him, he will become really unpredictable, even irrational. I am sure there are many concerned sensible senior soldiers in the Russian army at this time pondering their possible fate.
“In my mind despots and dictators are no different to rats. When in a corner they will strike out at friend and foe alike to save their skin.” - Peter McSporran
Putin tells a similar story from his childhood, was it déjà vu?
A Close Shave
In late 1975 after his release from detention brought about in trying to appease the Americans and South Africans, a certain Robert Mugabe fled to Mozambique and the war really started to hot up. Mozambique, a once-friendly colonial power, had become a hostile Marxist state.
Mugabe was assisted by a Catholic nun, Sister Mary Aquina (Dr A.K. Weinrich) who drove him as far as Inyanga where they crossed the border into the newly independent state of Mozambique under the leadership of Samora Machel, an ex-hospital orderly and proclaimed Marxist. Trouble was sure mounting for us. I often wonder about those liberals and leftists that supported Mugabe. The Special Branch had a dedicated desk dealing with them alone. Did they ever regret what their support lead to? Many missionaries and their families were slaughtered during the war by the communist terrorists (CTs) including Matabele civilian deaths carried out by the State after independence. Many more civilian lives lost post-war in 1983 which somehow attracted less attention from the world press. Needless to say, many of the Mugabe white supporters were the first to be persecuted by him.
“In life, you can only be tolerant to those who work within the rule of law. Your political leanings and political connections should offer neither protection nor an excuse for misdeeds. Appeasement lets evil prosper.’ - Peter McSporran
One of the things that really pissed us off in the army was when we picked up rations and medical supplies dropped by the CTs after a contact. It was not the weapons from China and Russia, nor the landmines or ammunition, we expected these. It was the wide array of goods from places such as Switzerland and the Nordic Countries. Condensed milk, tinned fruit, meat and fish. They ate tuna while we ate pilchards. Their boots were coveted by us all. Were these given as humanitarian aid to refugees? That may have been the excuse but I have no doubt those countries were fully aware they were supplying CTs under the guise of freedom fighters.
As call-ups became more frequent the drain of the white population increased and slowly but surely the companies in 1 Rhodesia Regiment depleted and I found myself going from H up to E Company as the regiment could no longer sustain the numbers required for full personnel strength. Our O/C Rolly Davies emigrated to Canada and we found ourselves with different commanders virtually on each bush trip. Also, after spending nearly three years with the same old faces, our sticks members changed. Most of the older guys were now corporals or above. The new people were called ‘fresh puss’. Due to the number of call-ups some territorials joined the regular army, many applied for special units such as the SAS, Grey Scouts (horse-mounted) or Selous Scouts while the older members from farming areas transferred to Police Reserve guarding their own farming areas or PATU (Police Anti Terrorist Unit). PATU did shorter, more frequent stints being self-contained in areas generally closer to home but still fully operational. By this time I no longer came across any of those that did National Service with me on call-ups although I was aware of some in other units. Many had already left the country.
I classified most of our leaders (Majors) at company level good guys with sensible attitudes both in operational matters and troop welfare. The good included Rolly, who I have mentioned, Rob Haarhoff, Flops (Peter) Forbes and later Quentin Haarhoff. One of the worst we had was a guy called Duncan his nickname being the White Rat. The white associated with the colour of his hair; the rat part associated with his leadership skills.
Our training before each trip now either took place at Nkomo Barracks or in the Sasha Pass between Bindura and Mount Darwin in the operational area. At Nkomo, I had a minor wound which came about at a demonstration of new rifle grenades known as Zulus which we had recently been issued. We all had to duly train at ‘firing’ before operational issue. Each troopie let fly in turn until one Zulu only went a few metres before exploding with a piece of shrapnel hitting my hand lodging at the base of my middle fingers, while very painful only causing superficial damage. The Regular instructor removed it easily and training continued. We all stood further back after that. That training we were under the instruction of the famed and legendary Jock Hutton, who passed away a couple of years ago. Jock had been a paratrooper in WWII being one of the those that jumped out of a plane during the Normandy landings. He was with the Rhodesian SAS of which he was a founder member and remained in the Rhodesian army until 1979.
The other close shave I had was with Flops Forbes as our leader out at the Sasha Pass on another pre-mobilisation training. Much of this was anti-vehicle ambush drills, jungle lane and fire & movement using the buddy system. All training at this time was done with live ammunition, and our weapons were retained with ammunition even when not at call-up at home. In civilian and army life the rifle was always close to hand. Being farmers we also needed them for home defence. The buddy system meant that on operations we all had a designated combat partner, this could change depending on when initial contact was made. When you moved, your partner provided covering fire and vice versa. If it involved more than one stick then sticks alternated in fire & movement. In essence, you trusted your buddies with your life, if he or they failed to provide covering fire you had big problems. As a sergeant, I was running through fire & movement drills with my platoon when one of the troopies' rifles jammed. Being unable to free it by hand, he set the butt down and kicked the cocking handle which cleared the breach but did not lock, picking up another bullet which fired immediately taking my hat off and grazing my head slightly. Much mirth round the mess tent that night with drinks on me. Later on in the war other rounds came close to me, all enemy fire, none as close as that.
Flops Forbes although Territorial was one of the few non-regulars to command a Fireforce which rarely included Territorials. He was very successful as such and under him, we gained a little respect from the Regulars. Unfortunately, his ghosts haunted him and he tragically took his own life after the war.
I feel that I need to have one name for the guerillas. They called themselves freedom fighters. We called them Gooks, Floppies (very derogatory) or CTs (Communist Terrorists). I think CT is easiest, so in my blog, until the war ends they will be known as CTs. I can assure you that's what we thought they were knowing that they were supplied and trained by Russia, China and Cuba. Yes, Cuba was very active in the background actually, sending troops to Angola to fight the South Africans.
Quelimane
Han and I did a couple of trips outside the Beira Corridor designated catchment mainly to look at established agricultural projects. A Portuguese Mozambican had started to build crop storage facilities near Chimoio but needed cash to complete the infrastructure. Being liberal he still believed in the concept of `co-ops’ which, if managed by third-party non-participants can be successful. In Africa unfortunately this is rarely the case. Therefore most co-ops while started with good intentions on a good model more often than not self destroy through internal disputes. Everyone wants to be the leader, nobody wants to do the work and importantly everyone wants the maximum cash out leaving no buffer for the hard times. Sometimes even hawking crops for cash that will never be delivered.
This gentleman's model was based on a co-op system he was using in a large rice project near Quelimane, some five hundred and fifty kilometres North of Chimoio. Why he would have had projects so far apart should have raised the alarm bells but we considered it worth a look as we also wanted to visit a greenfield sugar project promoted by Tata on the Zambezi River, West of Caia. In Zambia, Zimbabwe and South Africa, you could drive more than a thousand kilometres a day easily, not in the rest of Africa. In West Africa this was due to the traffic and bad driving, while in the Central and East, the state of the roads. We were assured the road north had been refurbished a few years earlier and there was a new bridge over the Zambezi at Caia. Of course, a completed road contract in Africa does not mean the work is actually carried out to what would be considered normal standards. It took us the whole day to get to Caia, roughly halfway, and sure enough, there was this wonderful bridge which had recently replaced the dangerous ferry across the Zambezi. It took another full day’s travel to get to Quelimane. I should mention while working in Mozambique I would always take my own trusty Toyota, Hilux. I used to have Landrovers but I am now truly biased towards the Hilux. Maybe the new models with all the fancy electronics will not be as reliable as the older ones. I recently sold my oldest Hilux soon after our Zimbabwean trip last year. It has paid for itself many times over.
Anyway getting to Quelimane and finding a place to stay with clean sheets was a challenge as was the quality of the food which was usually rice and fish, the latter not necessarily fresh despite us being on the Indian Ocean. Interestingly taxis in that town were in the form of panniers on the back mudguard of pushbikes. When it rained even a 4x4 would have trouble getting through the massive puddle-come-potholes.
The next day we were escorted to the rice plantations by an Asian local who insisted that he drive us in his Landcruiser. Although the plantations were meant to be just outside Quelimane, it was some hours' drive in reality. On that trip, the driving was some of the hairiest we had ever come across. The rice projects were actually on vast old colonial Portuguese estates with a wonderful canal and irrigation system much of which needed maintenance. Reflecting on the extent of the paddy fields and the irrigation system caused us to be much impressed. Contrary to the pre-conceived prejudice, the Portuguese never ceased to surprise us in their colonial agricultural enterprises. The old rice factories and storage sheds were now derelict and not in production. There were no facilities available for the crop in the ground. The project was being sponsored by an NGO, this is often the case with NGO projects. They seem to think you must get the production up before the processing and marketing are put in place. Disaster. The cash had now run out, the canals needed more work with management totally overstretched. Rice needs to be dehulled, that is; from paddy to polished. Needless to say, we avoided funding the grain handling depots in Chimoio. Although one depot was built, I believe it never became fully operational.
Funnily enough, a gentleman contacted me just this week who has access to the coconut plantations in Quelimane which in recent years have been devastated by Yellowing Virus. He was wondering what alternate crops he could grow and how he could attract farming partners. A big call.
I will chat about our return trip next week.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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