I had decided not to watch the Oscars this year although I rarely do anyway. Rozanne and I watched the BAFTA awards and we were absolutely sickened by all the wokeness and attacks on my gender and colour. The reason we viewed the BAFTA’s was to perhaps see if there were any new films worth watching. Of course, there weren't any except for Belfast which we still want to watch. Without watching the Oscars we did not miss the highlight of the show, yes the slap, which has been all over social media. I am told Will Smith got a standing ovation on receiving his acting award while in the rough sport of rugby any contact with the head is awarded a red card followed by a disciplinary hearing. In most countries now, a verbal attack can lead to charges let alone a physical one. Applause for the culprit who still collected his award saying love drove him to do it? It's a mad mad world.
“Once again in the midst of all these very vocal politically correct so-called members of our enlightened society attending their social diary’s main event; they managed to portray their true double standards and hypocrisy. A full measure of them to a man, woman or whatever.” - Peter McSporran
Many of us have thrown a punch, especially if one went to boarding school or served in the army. Rarely does violence achieve what we want. Some we are proud of, thought to be for a good cause which in most people, as in my case anyway, are ashamed after the event.
I will mention the one instance that I am most ashamed of because I came off worse than the victim. I had just recently gone into farming in my own right with every precious cent I had. One of my earliest purchases was tilita clips designed by Tilden Edridge from Wedza. A fantastic innovation for reaping tobacco and a great tool to ensure tobacco management both in the area reaped as well as leaves per barn. One of my strict rules at that early stage on the farm was that these clips must always remain on the trailer in the field not thrown on the ground so that they did not get damaged by tractors or lost in the ‘long grass’ so to speak. On arriving at the tobacco reaping one day, I found bundles of clips dumped by the tractor driver in the field and on instructing him to go back and collect them, he reversed over them. When reprimanded he gave me lip. It was too much for me and I leapt onto the tractor in fury and to my shame right hooked him. That shame I must assure you is only retrospective as at the time it had a calming effect. The next day at roll call the victim if you would like to call him that, in my view, the guilty party, was laughing and joking while I was unable to hold the pencil to complete the time book. Off to the doctor, I went, informing the said doctor that I had fallen off my motorbike. He examined my hand telling me I had broken it and the only time he had previously seen this type of metacarpal fracture was specific to a punch being thrown by hitting something solid like a skull. Not easy to fool doctors.
He put my hand in plaster from my wrist to my digits, including between my thumb and forefinger. The following week I had a call-up as it was the end of the curing season. As a farmer, we were expected to do our call ups during our slacker periods. To enable me to fire my rifle I cut away any restriction of movements to my fingers and thumb from the cast. Despite this, they allowed me to complete my call-up and my hand still healed. That punch was an error in a number of ways, not necessarily as you may have thought.
If accused of striking someone in Zimbabwe there were court consequences or at least an admission of guilt fine. In Zambia it was even worse, the police would charge you even if a complaint was not made and you would find yourself in jail overnight. I had two friends find themselves in this situation even though both were not the instigators. Colour did not come into it. What would have happened if Will Smith had been a different colour or the comedian had been a woman? Would there still have been a standing ovation?
I am now over Covid, a sore throat was my first symptom and it being winter when I normally get strep throat, I started antibiotics. This time it occurred at the end of a very bad bout of diarrhoea so I did not recognise the flu symptoms as such, although Rozanne will tell you I was very crabby. The antibiotics and throat lozenges got me through this while my strict diet has worked on my stomach problems. Now I am not sure whether this second lot of antibiotics worked on my stomach unlike the failure of those prescribed, or is it my restricted diet or the reduction of one of my many medications? I am still only introducing a new food every few days. Today, Friday is day twelve!!
At the weekend some Zambian friends, the Mauritzens, came to stay with us who, despite me not being at my charming best, seemed to really enjoy themselves. It was so nice having some African friends around. Rozanne and Wendy only stopped talking when they took another sip of wine while Eric and I had a quieter conversation. They had their son Douglas with him, whose good behaviour and appetite impressed me.
Ceasefire 1974
In December 1974 I found myself in the bush around the Rushinga area near Marymount Mission once again. We had been having great success with the introduction of Fireforce. In the last months of 1974, we had killed more terrorists since the outbreak of hostilities in 1972. There was still a large contingent of South African police on the border, although in theory, not involved in combat missions. They were based in that area at the camp at Rushinga. Portugal was planning its withdrawal from the colonies and South Africa was under huge political pressure to help try to resolve the Rhodesian situation. Like all political decisions if it does not directly affect the decision-makers, who cares about the consequences? At that very time, the terrorists were in full disarray. They were losing the confidence of the locals. A ceasefire was called under the policy of détente instigated mainly by pressure from South Africa in turn pressured by America. Even Robert Mugabe was released from detention in December of that year. Oh, how the whole country for many years has suffered because of that decision! I remember sitting on a hill to the east of Rushinga only a few kilometres north of the Mazoe River discussing with my stick what would we do if we came across some terrorists during the ceasefire. To a man, we said no way would we meet face to face unless they lay down their weapons and at no time would we lay down ours.
On the 16th of December, five days after the start of the ceasefire, we suddenly heard frantic traffic on the radio, much of it from South African call signs easily recognised as much of the language spoken was in Afrikaans. What had occurred; a South African camp had been approached by a group of terrorists in order to discuss their surrender. This group was under the leadership of Herbert Shungu who was to become a senior commander before disappearing later on in the war. The long and short of it; five South Africans and a BSAP constable set off to meet this guy and stupidly or naively got out of the vehicle unarmed, only to immediately be abducted. They were taken to the Mazoe River high-level bridge, not too far from our position, were lined up, stripped and shot. One SAP member and the BSAP constable jumped in the river with the wounded SAP guy. The constable unfortunately drowned while the SAP chap was wounded but survived. The rest died there. End of ceasefire, end of lives. The rest of that camp we spent looking for the culprits who were long gone over the border. The following year the war was really to start hotting up and most trips to the bush would take us into some form of combat. Over the war, a number of ceasefires were called at the instigation of American pressure on South Africa, all to our detriment. None achieving their aims or an end to the war until the final chapter in 1980.
Shortly after this incident, the South African contingent of some 2,000 left Rhodesia, all gone by mid-1975. This coincided with the Portuguese finally pulling out of Mozambique leaving us on our own to fight the war on behalf of the whole of Southern Africa on many fronts.
If I was the Ukrainians, I would be very wary of any self-proclamations in reduced military operations by the Russians. They will be planning their next move and regrouping. Although they seem to have failed so far, I am certain the Russians are far from finished.
“From my experience when the transgressor calls for a ceasefire it is to regroup, not reconcile.” - Peter McSporran
Tsetsera Mountain and Gorongosa National Park
Monty Hunter convinced Han and I to visit a potential area suitable for seed potato growing on a plateau on Tsetsera Mountain. I had often viewed Tsetsera from the main Beira road in the south beyond Chibamba Dam and wondered about this spectacular mountain. Han and I decided to take up Monty’s offer and set off on a day trip up the mountain. At that time, as in most of my life, I was well overweight and unfit although assured by Monty we could get where we needed to go by car. The road left much to be desired but after a couple of hours, we broke through the timberline into an area not unlike Nyanga in Zimbabwe. Much the same plant life, very much the same chilly weather although we were there on a fine day. In the old days that particular farm up there was owned by a wealthy Portuguese Mozambican who produced seed potatoes and dairy. I presume he transported the milk for sale to Villa Perry or Chimoio as it is known now. The dairy buildings, including an old concrete silage silo, were still there with only a few cows belonging to Monty wandering around enjoying the lush, but poor grazing.
The area is now deemed a national park so there were many challenges to accessing the farm to make it productive once again. It would have been ideal for its original function; seed potatoes. Of even greater historical interest was the ruin of the old mansion house which had stood on magnificent grounds with wonderful vistas. What an interesting day and who said the Portuguese did not develop agriculture in Mozambique? Han and I were forever uncovering contradictions for this in our travels throughout Mozambique. There is no doubt this was a prosperous potato seed farm, high above the aphid and other pests that would introduce viruses into a potato crop. What a place. Unfortunately, Monty’s negotiations to gain access failed despite many promising indicators. Hence his final stop in the Serra Choa much further north in the mountains above Catindica.
Another of the earlier interesting places Han and I visited, not for agricultural purposes, was Gorongosa National Park. I had seen old films in Rhodesia of the old days and although we had heard that during the war, the wildlife was decimated, we had been told it was being rehabilitated. As we were on the way back from up north following a visit to Quelimane to view a rice project and a greenfield sugar project on the Zambezi, we decided to stop off at the park on the return trip after spending a very uncomfortable night in Gorongosa town’s very insalubrious lodge.
The Carr Foundation, from the USA, in 2004 came to an agreement to restore the wildlife and the park hopefully to its formal glory. Not to be an easy task as it had become a favoured hunting and fishing area for the local villagers for the past thirty-odd years. As it was still early days there was limited accommodation and we were allowed, unlike now, to self-drive. There was not a lot of game to be seen except for waterbuck and smaller antelope. There were some elephants we came across in the thick ilala palm which were very aggressive and seemed to ambush us on every avenue we took in this natural maze. I did much speedy reversing managing to convince Han to get a picture of one of our followers. I had come across similarly aggressive elephants in Gonarezhou during the war where they had been heavily poached. Most nights there we would have to move our resting spot as once they had our scent they would charge through our position. We came to fear them more than the terrorists in some areas of that vast park.
One thing we did come across was the old viewing platform depicted in some old tourist promotion movies of the area showing lions dwelling upon it. Same platform, no lions. Most of the buildings during our first visit were showing much damage from the war with bullet holes on most buildings, common on many old colonial buildings in that country.
I have subsequently been back to Gorongosa and would say, while work is still in progress, the Carr’s Foundation efforts have been remarkably successful. Most of the original species found in the park are once more resident in significant numbers.
You see, looking for investments in Africa is not always work.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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