One of the things I find unique in Portugal is the huge number of Festas that occur annually at this time of year weekly. Virtually every village will have one within the year while our town, like many, has numerous for a multitude of celebrations. Some are based on a religious event, a common excuse for a party here, others for harvest, including cheese festas, which are big in our area, as are ones for honey nuts, olives, sardines and at this time of year the vindima, grape harvest and some just for the sake of music. In our area, we also have Roman, as they settled here and mediaeval, just to ensure history does not miss out. The reasons are multiple, all normally accompanied by markets, mostly selling local produce but more and more including, unfortunately, what we know of in Zimbabwe as flea markets selling Chinese junk.
There are always many food outlets, and the bigger ones have the equivalent of the ‘Lunar Park’ for children. They start slowly in the morning, gradually building up into the evening's entertainment, reaching its crescendo of noise and music at about ten at night and generally winding down at about three am on the following day. However, this past weekend, we could still hear the drums at five am. For some reason, it seems to be the custom to play loud music for twenty-four hours, with loud fireworks often used to announce the commencement and end of the festivities. Other than food and drink, which is cheap, all the entertainment is free. Remember, the average salary in the UK is two and a half times that in Portugal.
“Living in Portugal teaches you how to enjoy yourself within your community without spending vast sums in paying for your entertainment. No need for freebie Taylor Swift tickets here.” - Peter McSporran
Although drink is available, mostly beer and wine, both very cheap, there is little drunkenness, and surprisingly, to date, I have not witnessed an assault, let alone a fight. The Portuguese love their food and music. Food is taken late, and the music celebrities also only take to the stage after ten at night. Before and after, lesser artists keep the crowd entertained. There may be more than one stage. The locals attend in families as is common practice, even for late-night meals, from the very old to very small babies. All remain well after I depart for the comfort of my bed and to escape the loud music. Portugal, perhaps many of you do not know, like Greece, also has bagpipes, with nearly every festa having one accompanied by drums, guitar or even a squeezebox. They play while mingling with the crowd until the official entertainment surprisingly drowns them out. We have not been to one for a couple of years due to my health, but this past weekend, we did attend the one in Penela, ‘Festas De S Miguel’, enjoying a meal and drinks with friends and afterwards for me, delicious churros (Spanish doughnuts). Just two weeks ago, we went down to listen to the Penela Philarmonica playing. As I say, all their starts, no matter how small, commence with loud bangs from fireworks, and in summer, there is rarely a weekend that goes by without us being within hearing distance of an event in our district. We live about three kilometres from Penela as the crow flies and can clearly hear the music despite some hills between us and this to give you an idea of the music's volume.
As I sort of closed my last writing about my time at the Commercial Farmers Union (CFU), I decided to have a look at the bound copies of ‘The Farmer’ magazine from that time and one of the awards recorded in January 1995 was the Farm Woman of the Year. That year, Natalie Seagar, a well-known farming widow, her husband having died in the sixties in an accident at Police Reserve training, was the winner. Most ex-Zimbabwean farmers would have known of Natalie. When she took over the farm after the tragic death of her husband, she had five young children to care for, the youngest of whom were twins and only three years old. At the time of the award, she was running her farm with a breeding herd of six hundred cows and had successfully reared and educated her children, some of the boys known by many for their prowess on the cricket pitch. One of her sons, Richard, by 1995, was managing the crops on the farm, she the cattle. She also had time to represent the district on the Cattle Producers Association, holding many roles in the district, including treasurer at the Wedza Country Club. In short, a strong, capable and hard-working woman.
“Most hard-working people I have known always had time for others and were vital contributors to their communities. It was the basket cases due to their lack of endeavour that contributed little while continually calling on their neighbours for support.” - Peter McSporran
That got me thinking that during my time in Zimbabwe, I was to come across many capable strong women, all to be admired. Some better not to cross. The Marondera area seemed to have an extra number as just down the road from Natalie was Beth Bedford, who took over the running of her farm when poachers killed her husband Mike. Under the circumstances, many would have packed up and left, but not Beth, who had become a renowned cattle farmer in her own right. My friend Alistair Smith, a top cattleman, and myself suggested to her to compete for the Cattleman of the Year Award, but she always declined despite having had a very good chance of winning it. Also in that area was Jill Hunter, the well-known sheep lady, who carried on farming when her husband left for greener pastures and of course Kerry Kay was also from that area. Kerry having won the award previously for her endeavours in educating farmers and their staff in controlling the spread of HIV. She stayed and supported her husband, Ian, during his time as an opposition MP, through intimidation to the family along with assault and even attempted murder. Her voice can still be heard in opposition even today.
Closer to home, when my neighbour Clem Bruk-Jackson died prematurely, his wife Jean called back her youngest son, Des, who was on a gap year following his years of National Service on the oil rigs of the North Sea. On his return, she continued to run the farm and with Des, eventually as a partner up until, like us all, had their farms taken. She was a quiet woman, slight in stature but iron-willed. Another woman with determination from our area was Cathy Townsend, who took over the running of her family farm on the death of her father, the renowned Sussex breeder John Glanfield. In her case, she inherited a loyal manager to assist her in the form of Bill Biller. Needless to say, she ran the business, and in fact, she and I bought a new combine harvester in partnership.
Another strong woman, well known to nearly all of us, was Jean Simon, a daughter of the Cawoods I have previously spoken about from Mwenzi. She also decided to continue farming in the Raffingora area when her husband decided he preferred to work in the city. She stood her ground against the ‘war veterans’, a euphemism for thugs who eventually abducted her, much to the dismay of the farming community. Many of us would be forced to attend ‘Jambanja’ meetings at the time of the farm invasions, where we were supposed to be reeducated. These were not pleasant affairs; in Jean’s case, they forced her to walk twelve miles barefoot before being made to dance through the night, a common practice. She was let go, and jokingly, we said that even the war veterans were intimidated by her. She is another woman whose voice is still being heard.
One lady I should mention is Gill Lawrie, who kept the their farm running with a young family when John, her husband, spent his extended time at the CFU. John, well after his official capacity at the CFU took on many roles, including chairman of the Railways, which still worked then, and other roles, including the Beira Corridor chairmanship and, finally, the fight for compensation. They also lost their farms, but until then Gill kept the farms going until their son could take over. When John took up the fight for compensation for the farmers, she became the breadwinner, reverting to her original profession as a radiologist.
So many Zimbabwean farmers’ wives were as strong if not stronger than their husbands. Many for whatever reason, farmed in their own right, sometimes by means of employing a manager but maintaining overall business control. In Rhodesian days the wives remained on the farms when their husbands went off on frequent ‘call-ups’ to fight the war. I often found, as a soldier, that it was very strange coming across a lonely farmhouse in the ‘hot areas’ with only the wife and her children on the farm. Here we were chasing the terrorists in an area while the man of the house was off doing a similar job as us elsewhere. As time went on these temporary ‘war widows’ would be offered what was known as ‘bright lighters’ to help defend the farm if it came under attack. Initially, these were mostly elderly police reservists from the city. Rural police reservists, no matter their age, saw active service hence the name bright lighters for these city volunteers. These were bolstered later in the war, with people from overseas unfit for active service or incapable of active service who wanted to play a part in the war. Some were good, most claiming military experience, unfortunately some only gained their war stories from those they heard in a bar. Despite this, the farmers' wives stayed and ran the farms. One of the scariest tasks was the school run every Sunday night or Monday morning and Friday. This was when people were most vulnerable, fearing either ambush or landmines. How those women must have feared for their children, all armed from a young age. The more I think about it the greater my admiration. Hence my mention in my blog, sorry I have not named more, but the list would be extensive.
So the ZIG is on its way down as predicted. Like many, as the currency is meant to be backed by gold reserves to the value of the amount issued, I wonder how it can drop when gold increases in value. No surprise, it was all another lie; once again many millions being made in the exercise by those that can obtain the hallowed US$ at the official rate and sell it on the black market at a huge profit. I thought I would just copy what I wrote back in May after the ZIG’s issue. I should have included the retailers’ requirement to replace their goods as we know the Government of Zimbabwe has destroyed agriculture and the manufacturing and processing industries.
“I agree with many of those who say the ZIG is doomed to fail because the country's production base is still being destroyed, let alone resurrected. By its own admission, Zimbabwe will require US$2 billion for grain imports this year due to drought and poor agricultural policies. Will the suppliers accept the ZIG? I doubt it, but if forced to do so it will be used immediately to buy US$, with the Government the biggest buyer in kind. The Government knows full well that when it pays contractors or suppliers in ZIGs, they will go onto the informal currency market to buy US$ to enable them to import their foreign input requirements such as fuel and capital equipment.” - Peter McSporran May 3rd Blog 2024
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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