Next week Rozanne, my daughter Storm and I head off on what could be a trip of a lifetime. Two months dedicated to fishing, wildlife and friends. No duties or outstanding work to be carried out. So excited. We set off next Tuesday with our first stop, Inhassoro for three weeks chasing that elusive marlin and any other fish that are stupid enough to take our bait. We will be staying at Dugong Lodge with our hosts and friends Martin and Caron Oosthuizen looking after us. We missed taking this trip last year due to Covid-19 and illness. Sadly since our last stay there one of our fishing companions along with being a part-owner of Dugong Lodge died. Vernon Hammond hailed from Bulawayo, loved the sea and Dugong. He was a humble generous man who fell prey to prostate cancer. It is so important to be checked, if caught early enough treatment can be successful, I know as I have lived the last four years post brachytherapy. Three years ago whilst fishing with Vernon he did not know he had cancer, or if he had it was not mentioned. We had a wonderful trip. During that trip I was feeling unwell, having lightheaded spells, both Vernon and Martin remarking privately to Rozanne I needed to get fitter before coming fishing again. Unbeknown to us I was already suffering from my next bout of cancer, this time in my stomach, only diagnosed two years later despite many warning signs that something was amiss. It is now the 1st anniversary of my diagnosis this week. Every day is a bonus, years are jackpots.
“There are things you do not really appreciate in life, including life itself. Only when they are threatened to be taken away from you do you realise how important they are to you.” - Peter McSporran.
Unfortunately, I am fit enough to resume my daily exercises in the morning. I despise them as they appear to be a duty, be it for my own welfare. Why are things that appear to be duties, so hard to do? Even pleasant tasks become worrisome if you are ordered to or have to do them under duress. Things done voluntarily or things you enjoy are no problem. Did I get this rebellious nature against any instruction because of boarding school or the army? Both I suspect. It certainly was not from my parents, as they gave me little instruction except to go to bed at 9:00 pm. Never mind the fact that while at school, prep only ended at 9:45 pm. Why do parents always think you revert back to a child when you go back and stay with them no matter your age? I remember telling my 30-year-old daughters not to be late out in Inhassoro despite them living on their own for many years.
“When work is a pleasure, life is a joy! When work is a duty, life is slavery.”- Maxim Gorky
Everything was a duty in the army, volunteering was frowned upon by your peers until on active duty. In barracks or base camp you never volunteered and therefore had to be ordered carrying out the said duty with much muttering. When I left the army I carried this reluctance forward and for a few years, I did myself and my employers a disservice. I loved farming, but do not tell me what to do. I still have the same attitude, which I am sure did not help my first marriage although that was about stopping what I was doing rather than doing.
“I like what I am doing, please do not spoil it by telling me to do it. That changes any task’s complexion immediately.” - Peter McSporran
I have to convince myself writing this blog is not a duty otherwise it would never be done. To be honest it started more as therapy than a record of my life’s adventures. So excited we are going on this trip which hopefully will add some unique experiences. Never too old for a new adventure, be it done at a slow walk rather than a steady pace.
“My advice in living with old age is that you ensure you always have a goal. Goals always give you an incentive to look to the future, not dwell on the past.” - Peter McSporran
So next Monday we head for Lisbon where we will meet Storm on our trip to Africa, which will include Mozambique, Zimbabwe and Zambia. Places we plan to visit are the Bazaruto Archipelago, Lake Kariba, Mana Pools Game Park, the Lower Zambezi River and Game Park, Lake Kyle (Mutirikwi), Hwange National Game Park and Victoria Falls. All these places are built around fishing and game viewing. Harare, Chinhoyi, Mutare and Lusaka to see friends.
Unfortunately, time and the internet may delay the publication of my blog. I will endeavour to get something out each week, even if just a short version.
Salisbury Show
One of the highlights during my first year farming was the Salisbury Show. Hamish was a great enthusiast for showing cattle, oftentimes winning. Pedigree Ayrshire, Holstein and Hereford cattle were included in his string along with entries in the fatstock classes. The show was over a period of six days with the trade day on Monday, Tuesday the Pedigree Cattle judging, Wednesday the Interbreed, Thursday the Fatstock with the Grand Parade on Friday. On Saturday the city masses arrived, a time for farmers to be absent. For those exhibiting cattle, it started on the Sunday with the cattle being transported to the showgrounds with copious bales of hay not just for fodder but to make temporary housing for the handlers. Even firewood was brought for cooking fires. For me, great excitement, it reminded me of the Highland Show in Scotland. The ladies took part in homecraft and baking competitions, although many would compete in the horse and cattle rings. Every show I have gone to, seemed to have horses cantering around and jumping no matter what the day. To them, although honours were to be won in jumping over fences, their lines always seemed to be a hive of activity well beyond the time others had gone to bed. If you wanted a late-night drink, head to the “Donkey Wallopers” lines. In later years I often did.
Monday, Trade Day was spent rewashing the animals for the show the next day. I met many seasoned and important farmers including Jimmy and Elsie Witson, Jimmy I was to learn later was my fathers best man. Many of the Scottish by descent Rhodesian farmers hailed from Kintyre. Millars, Blacks, Smiths, Elsons and McLeans. Although I was in awe of these successful men, I acted insouciantly. On the day of judging, I wore a green checked suit and a deerstalker hat. Did I look out of place or what? Needless to say over the years I stuck to my checked suit, changing from green to brown while my deerstalker changed to an Australian cattleman's Akubra.
On the day of the cattle judging, Ian Smith, the then Prime Minister, walked around the lines chatting to people with no security I could see. How that was to change when the post-independence rulers visited.
Of course, the people to watch were the cattle judges making their choices. Not necessarily everyone's favourites but they're favourites. Winners in the cattle ring think the judge is a superior being, in the following years if they do not feature, the same man is a fool. Little did I know then I would become the Senior Fatstock and Interbreed judge. A long way from being a gormless Scottish youth in a foreign land.
Flying “Fun”
I use the word trip rather than flight as the AgDevCo scoping trip included eight flights. On instruction from Keith and my peers, I was to travel the region to ascertain if there were agricultural enterprises that an organisation offering patient capital could find opportunities. I have since found there is always opportunity, the key is how to unlock that opportunity to benefit all. That is the hard part. I had at that time not found out how hard it is to exit. Even harder.
Notwithstanding, I planned the trip for early December. I had asked Peter Sheppard, who as I previously mentioned, had some contacts through his GIS and irrigation company. Hopefully, it would give me some comfort as well, as he was training as a pilot.
I had formerly had many exciting experiences as a passenger in small planes during my time in the Commercial Farmers Union however the most exciting was shortly after arriving in Zambia. My earliest ex-consulting partner at Agricultural Advisors International (AAI), Chris Thorne, owned a plane that enabled us to visit our more distant clients within Zambia much quicker than by road. A three-day road trip would take only one day. Remember as a consultant, time is money and farming clients are not inclined to pay for travel time. Chris had a 172 Cessna Traildragger. A safe plane in the air, unstable on landing needing experience I have been told. During the Rhodesian war, Chris was a pilot in the Police Reserve Air Wing, with his plane undergoing a door removal to accommodate a Browning machine gun. He saw much action, he had a gunner killed by ground fire on operations covering ground troops.
One of the Zambians, Griver Sikasote, who leased land to some of our scheme kept telling us about this wonderful land he had up near Lake Tanganyika, at Mbala. Some 1,200 kilometres north of Lusaka. Eventually, Chris and I agreed to visit this property despite its isolation. Preparation for that trip included getting clearance from the Zambian Air Force to land at their restricted airport at Mbala. Then we found there was no fuel available up there as civilian planes were not allowed to land since the downing of the Hammarskjold plane near Ndola in the 60s which is rumoured to have taken a circuitous route through Abercorn as Mbala was known then. Griver somehow made us an exception, providing us with permission to land at the military airbase. So to get there and back we needed to carry our own fuel. The required amount of fuel would have to share the limited space, normally where the fourth passenger would sit. The fuel required was some five 20L drums, the flight duration expected to be four hours. An uncomfortable flight with the smell of fuel which did not seem to worry Chris who smoked unconcerned the whole way there and back. That was not the scariest part, that was reserved for our approach to Lusaka Airport. All of a sudden a large plane appeared from our right side as we were making our final approach veering at the last minute just missing us. When we landed it was the other flight’s pilot who was called to the tower not us, not that it would have been any solace if it had actually hit us.
Griver became a good friend and a seed potato project funded by AgDevCo is now on that land. A story for a later date.
That was a bit of a diversion to the narrative, back to the December 2008 flight. As usual, we looked for the cheapest charter we could find and agreed on a price for a Cessna 180. It was to be a six-day, trip with our first stop for fuel at Mfuwe in the Luangwa National Park on the way to Mbeya in South Western Tanzania. This was a fairly short leg but essential as we had to do at least one refuel on the way to Mbeya. Mbala is en route, but no permission for private planes to land was being granted. We should have been suspicious of our pilot while we were parked at Mfuwe as during refuelling he disappeared and our suspicions were that he had made a visit to the bar. Whatever, at that time we reserved to comment on our personal concerns, little knowing both of us had the same suspicions. From there we set off to Mbeya where we arrived mid-afternoon in the middle of a large storm. The Mbeya old airport was nestled in the mountains, not an easy airport to land and take off from at the best of times,
especially difficult in an Intertropical Convergence storm. On the second try we landed successfully having aborted the first attempt. No fuel, but eventually found a sealed drum filled with fuel in a shed adjacent to the airfield which we made use of. Immigration and airport staff were only interested in our fees, not our well being. Takeoff again and just as we left, down came the rain. The mountains appeared very close as we struggled to climb above them through the rain and cloud. Next stop was a grass strip at Ngwazi Tea Estate where Rick Ghaui would collect us and take us to the Old Farm House at Kisolanzi west of Iringa run by his sister. Needless to say, we once again landed in the rain. At Kisolanza we were offered wonderful hospitality and getting to know Rick over a great beer, a born and bred Tanzanian who had remained there throughout the hard times, except for some time spent working in Zambia. A real character. Rick knew everyone and everything about Tanzania, having over the years been witness to the many failures and the few successes. He was very sceptical about our mission having hosted many people coming with large promises mostly coupled with empty pockets. Needless to say, he was to share his knowledge introducing us the next day to the farmers around including an extraordinary family called the Uygletts who were achieving irrigated soya, wheat and maize yields under rainfed conditions. Others we met also claimed success, which we found measured in yields but not in profitability. Kisolanzi was to play host to me many times over the next ten years. Only happy memories, although what we found at Ngwazi when we returned to our plane the next day put the rest of our trip in question. More about that 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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