This past weekend my daughter Storm and her fiancé Duncan Bull treated Rozanne and I to a mountain break at a Spa hotel, the Casa das Penhas Douradas, in the Serra da Estrela. Our first visit to the mountains of Portugal. Why do visitors always take you to new places in the country you live? The history of the area is documented in the hotel and I was surprised to read the area was only really explored in 1891. This, in a country that produced many explorers and discovered the route to India in the 15th century, some four hundred years before looking closely at their own country. The hotel is at about 1,600 metres above sea level, the highest point in Portugal being Torre (1,993 metres) within sight of the hotel. The area is reminiscent of Nyanga in Zimbabwe with both man-made and natural reservoirs. The family that owns the hotel are the Burel family, they manufacture wool products renowned the world over from their factory in the village of Manteigas utilising wool from the local Bordaleira sheep. Surrounding the hotel there are numerous houses, mostly vacant, some impressive in size, others just shacks built into the rock. The reason for this was that it was found that the air up there was excellent for the relief of tuberculosis and in the late 19th century a sanatorium was set up for the treatment of this disease. I presume the rich lived in the large houses, which are numerous, while the poor lived in the rock hovels. I was surprised there were so many, all looking vacant but I presume belonging to individuals in the now National Park.
There is snow to be found up here from December through to April when the Portuguese come to ski. Rozanne and I are keen to see the area in winter, no skiing for us though! I flag this area as it is rarely mentioned in travel guides with the Algarve and Silver Coast taking precedence as attractions for sun and beach-seeking visitors. It is so unspoilt with clear skies when there are no fires in the valleys below.
“Just as the fish are always at the other side of the lake, the places to visit are always in someone else's country.” - Peter McSporran
Unfortunately on the days we were there, we could see the fires some forty kilometres away with the smoke drifting through the mountains dropping ash on us even at that altitude.
Talking about fires, our local Bombeiros Voluntários (Firefighters) have been out fighting the many fires around us on a daily basis. What drives them to volunteer for this dangerous task? I do not know. Doing our little bit, we thought we would donate some drinks in the form of beers. I remember on the farm in Zimbabwe after fighting a fire there was nothing better than a cold beer. It was made clear to us they would prefer water to drink while fighting the fires. Some of them drink as much as 8 litres per day. We dutifully dropped water off later in the week although they did not reject the beer either. Sadly, this week one of the firefighter pilots, unfortunately, died in a plane crash.
The worst thing about the fires is that many are lit by us humans. Some accidentally, most by delinquents. What would motivate someone to do this? At the very least homes and belongings are destroyed, at worst, life is lost. Of course, pets and livestock are left to their fate as human life is given preference. Many die. I should mention that the firefighters are looked on with reverence by the locals, including me.
“One of the inexplicable human traits is their ability to consciously carry out stupid acts caring little for others' safety let alone property.” - Peter McSporran
Diandra Beginnings
Diane and I set about establishing our home in the old farmhouse at Diandra. To start with, all we could afford was a coat of paint for the building, some patches where the roof leaked and added a couple of stand-alone metal kitchen cabinets to the outdoor kitchen. Our water was heated by a wood stove, similar in concept to a good old Rhodesian boiler but purpose-built. In its day it must have been seen as a modern convenience, by the time we took it over, it was probably forty years old. I believe they used to be known as pot-belly stoves.
The farm, once the Darwendale Dam filled, had water on ten kilometres of three of its previous river boundaries making it so we had only one contiguous land neighbour, that being Clem and Jean Bruk-Jackson. This added to our security especially reducing theft after independence. Of course, petty theft did occur but we never experienced equipment or livestock theft. Thieves like many escape routes, Diandra only offered one.
We were sixty-five kilometres from Salisbury, sixteen kilometres of which was gravel once you left the narrow tar of the main Darwendale road. Some twenty kilometres to our east was Inkomo Barracks which would have also helped with our security during the war. The birthplace of Mugabe was just downstream from the dam wall where his elderly parents still lived, this may have been a deterrent to CTs causing too much trouble in the area. Who knows?
As I have stated earlier, our first crop was a success, much due to the advice of my neighbours, both the late, John Gordon and Clem Bruk-Jackson. Both had also built chongololos the same year I did, using farm-burnt bricks, while I used reject face-bricks from the brickfields at Mount Hampden. These at the time cost the exorbitant price of Rh$6 per thousand delivered to the farm. We used two hundred thousand bricks to build the monster, heated by three automatic coal-fired heat exchangers from Crasters. John Wightman, a heating genius designed it for me as he did for many others including my neighbours. There was little timber on the farm hence the need to use coal which at that time was only Rh$14 per tonne for washed peas delivered to the farm from Wankie. The stokers required these more expensive peas to enable the automatic stokers to function. Cobbles, large chunks, I think were Rh$9. The transport alone from Wankie would now cost close to US$100, how things have changed. The main reason for the chongololo was that one of the major costs in curing tobacco is curing fuel. An efficient forced air curing system will only use one kilogram of coal per kilogram of tobacco, while conventional barns with furnaces and flue pipes could use four kilograms per kilogram of tobacco. I always said that chongololo was what made my success in the beginning. Using the reject face-brick also had an added unexpected benefit. Compared to my neighbours the bought-fired brick walls heated quicker and held the heat better than fire-burnt farm bricks which were more porous and inclined to absorb outside water such as rain. This was pure luck as we bought the bricks due to me being on call-up with little time to supervise the making of bricks. To be totally honest we would have not completed the building that year if we had not done so. We had to resort to bringing town builders who required plenty of supervision. Only at nearing completion, we discovered a local farm builder, Abakali, who was faster and superior to them all. He remained my builder for the next twenty years building both for myself and my neighbours.
The land preparation was done with an old disc plough using the MF165. Lime was applied by hand. pH was about 3.5, so two tonnes a hectare was required with further applications following each crop. We fertilised and fumigated with a Tinto Ridger. Water miscible Ethylene Dibromide (EDB) was used with no precaution on handling and mixing. Face masks, goggles and gloves, what were they? We then changed the configuration of the ridger into a planter to plant the groundnuts in September following our early irrigated tobacco crop changing back again to ridge and fumigate our rain-fed tobacco crop. Maize lands were ridged and fertilised similar to the tobacco crop and hand planted at the first rains. This meant really stripping the implement and rebuilding it for each task maybe as often as four times a season. Something any sensible farmer would not attempt in these modern days of specialised farming equipment. Those early years everything I did was under the watchful eye of John and Clem. Long but happy hours broken by extended times in the bush. We relied heavily on our wives, farm supervisors and skilled workers to keep everything going.
I must mention a couple of additional key farm workers. My first gardener, Josum, from my time at the Smith’s came to look after the tobacco seedbeds as I had identified his green fingers. His beds were always excellent and although I sowed and supervised them personally in the early years, for many future years, he took full control. None of my managers ever found fault with him, most unusual. Our head tractor driver was a MaKorekore named Robert Lobels. The MaKorekore tribal area was in the forefront of the war in those days before it spread to the rest of the country. I mention him especially as most of my farm workers were from Malawi or Mozambique. These foreign-born workers informed me that the MaKorekore could not be trusted. This was because traditionally when they passed through the MaKorekore lands on the way home they would be robbed. Generally, this tribe had a poor reputation, they especially disliked Robert who when not driving tractors spent his time drinking and chasing other men's wives. I do not think that worried them as much as his superior attitude. Despite these behaviour flaws, he was indispensable to me in the early years before trained tractor drivers could be more easily found. Robert was a contradiction and an excellent driver, no machine too complex for him.
The second most important factor in my success was irrigation. At that time irrigating tobacco was fairly new with buyers arguing that it produced poor-quality tobacco. I cannot disagree as my first few years' crops resembled roofing tiles, only with the added weight compensating for the poor prices I achieved. When we first started irrigating the rule was to have your field at water capacity at planting. Leave for six weeks then apply two inches of irrigation every week thereafter. Within five years this all changed and with proper water management coupled with new varieties, the quality improved immensely. Throughout my tobacco-growing career weight remained king as the buyers would periodically change what type of tobacco they required. Of course, the rich ripe tobacco was also sold at a premium, but hardly at economic yields. At 1,450 metres altitude, we would never have produced the high quality of the warmer areas such as Centenary at 1200 metres but we could achieve better returns per hectare with yield, although reduced quality.
For the first few years we only hand-weeded, however by year three, herbicides were introduced. One hard lesson I learnt was do not heavily irrigate tobacco after applying Dual. I nearly killed my crop when I applied the usual two inches of irrigation washing the herbicide into the root zone. I left for call-up thinking I had killed my crop to find on my return it had recovered.
Foreign currency was short, so no new imported machinery, just what was made locally and tractors were not replaced, only overhauled with all the agencies carrying rebuilt engines for quick turnaround. Just finding a bearing or fan belt was a headache so maintenance was a very high priority. As many farmers were leaving we would descend on any farm liquidation sale like vultures to purchase anything from spanners to tractors. I even picked up an old stationary groundnut harvesting plucking machine which we used for a few years until we bought our first tractor-drawn groundnut combine.
“If you have little, you make do, oh how we have forgotten this along with savouring the joy of doing so!” - Peter McSporran
For entertainment, it was a meal or a beer at the neighbours' house although we on occasion would visit Nyabira Club for a farmers' meeting and if not busy, a game of tennis. Diane was a much stronger player than me. Nyabira offered only tennis and winter cricket while the more affluent farming areas’ clubs would include squash, golf and bowls, the larger clubs even included rugby and polo.
Some Iringa Characters
After spending a very pleasant night at the Old Farm House at Kisolanza we set about having a look around the area. I should point out that for Andrew Tipping, it was not so pleasant, he had his first experience of African fire ants. It is amazing how quickly these little buggers can cover your legs, causing much pain from their bites which only intensify as you try to brush them off. I know from experience my worst episode was red fire ants at Chipata in Zambia when on going to relieve myself after a few beers. There I was slightly unstable compounding my problem as I fell on my arse in the middle of them.
Kisolanza has been in the Ghaui family for more than a hundred years where Rick Ghaui still farms while his sister, Nicky, runs the lodge and campsite. They are able to cater for all types, with high-end tourists enjoying the lodge and backpackers at the campsite. A stop not to be missed between Mbeya and Dar-es-Salaam. Rick was renting out his tobacco section while in the meantime he was producing both flowers and horticulture. He was also involved in a tea and timber haulage business with Alan Mayers, the latter setting up a seed potato farm in the area. I think Rick was probably feeling the pain as many of us did in using Dutch agents who took their commission no matter the profitability of the product. As always, air transport out of Africa is a headache. In those days Kenya and Zimbabwe were the only countries using air freight for their produce at economical rates. Economies of scale are critical in airfreight, first to get the plane to land, then to have the ability to build the facilities to handle large quantities of perishable produce.
As well as running the lodge, Rick’s sister, Nicky also ran a herd of beef cattle. Rick had worked extensively in the region including Zambia before returning to run the family farm. Rick was born and bred in Tanzania, speaking Swahili like a local and respected by all. Conservative by nature you could see that he planned to ensure that he would leave the land intact to the next generation of Ghaui’s. It could not have been easy in the days of the socialist President Nyerere. Rick became our guide although I think he became disillusioned with us once we started looking at bigger more secure investments than those grass root start-ups. In his area, there were quite a number of these latter-day pioneers after socialism had destroyed agriculture in that country.
The next family of note we met were the Ulyatts, Robin and his son Otto. This was an ex-Kenyan farming family who were way ahead of their time in soil conservation including tillage in crop production. They were achieving yields of ten tonnes for rainfed maize, three tonnes in soya and six tonnes in rainfed wheat. Yields unheard of without irrigation in Tanzania. Robin has since passed and Otto is now in sole charge. I should mention Robin’s wife, Janet, had a fine herd of Jerseys supplying milk to the area. Robin, an ex Safari Rally driver was known to be gruff and fairly unfriendly in the district however sitting on his verandah discussing farming and rugby I found him genial. There were no fences around his farm as he had a splendid relationship with his tribal neighbours, to who he supplied maize each year. However, with a tacit agreement in place to respect each other's property, woe betide anyone that dared enter his land as Han and I were later to witness.
The third person of note was Mark Myatt-Taylor. Mark and Nicky Myatt-Taylor moved to the area in 2005 where they built a productive crop and cattle enterprise. Mark was very proactive, demanding the most from his people, cattle and crops. He was very highly capitalised and at some stage had badly fallen out with the bank. Farmers do that from time to time. Mark’s father had been a Rhodesian politician with Mark first moving to Kenya then Tanzania bringing with him from that country all his equipment and three hundred head of pedigree Borans. He is a renowned breeder of Borans. Once again he was known in the area as being cantankerous. I remember leaning at his gate and him saying to me, “I am not very well-liked by the farmers in the area, but in saying that, I like few of them.” I think the exception was Rick Ghaui, even Mark could not dislike Rick respected by all. Mark, by introducing irrigation proved that really good crop yields could be achieved even at this altitude of 1,800 metres.
Over the next few years meeting other farmers in the area with two dairy farmers of note both supplying milk to a local sweet manufacturer. It soon became obvious there were two types of farmers, the small family unit or the large corporate, the latter mainly involved in tea and timber.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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