We all had a fear of fires when we farmed in Zimbabwe, with all farmers having, by law, to have fire breaks, which the local Intensive Conservation Association (ICA) in theory policed, although in some areas, they became a little lax with the advent of Zimbabwe. By law, if a fire broke out, everyone in the locality of the fire was meant to assist in fighting it, something again in the new Zimbabwe not so widely adhered to. We and our labour knew how to fight fires, and the damage to individual farmers could be devastating but was typically limited. The biggest source of fires in our area was Inkomo Barracks, being military and did not abide by the rules of fire limitation in cause and effect.
Here in Portugal presently, it is a different scenario, with widespread fires breaking out across the country fueled by the tinder-dry forests after the long summer fanned by strong unseasonal winds. Yes, in its reporting, the BBC said global warming was also a contributing factor to these fires. Whatever the reason, they are much more devastating than I encountered in Zimbabwe, with the loss of life, massive loss of properties including many dwelling houses and road closures causing major traffic disruption. Whole forests just disappear.
To give you an idea of the size of the problem, today the 9th of September, there were 530 fires with 10,887 firefighters fighting the fire and goodness knows how many private citizens, although the danger is great, 2,962 fire fighting vehicles are involved along with 110 firefighting aircraft, some coming from as far as Canada. Every number is mind-boggling but gives an idea of what can happen in Southern Europe in ideal fire conditions. Idiots and pyromaniacal vandals undoubtedly cause some, but the vast majority are caused by the weather and spread by the wind. So far, we have been unaffected in our district, I hope it remains so. I feel sorry for those affected and admire the firefighters. They are primarily volunteers. Our only contribution to the effort will be a donation, which seems so little.
After reminiscing on the phone this past week with Will Robinson, when I put it down for some reason, maybe my age, I started reminiscing about regrets I had in my life. I am not talking about fleeting regrets that last a few weeks, months, or years; instead, I am talking about those that remain throughout your life. Many regrets you have with hindsight later turn out to be fortuitous in their long-term outcome. I would especially say this was true of women in my life, specifically if they kicked me into touch or were just too elusive to fall for my limited charm. At the time it felt devastating, but as the years progressed I would come to think how lucky I had been with hindsight as a tool. One of my biggest regrets was my marriage breaking down, probably much of the cause, me. Not the divorce but the breakdown of the marriage. I have not spoken to others, but for a long time, I felt both a sense of guilt and failure. But this breakdown, in a way, led to my present happiness, and therefore, this regret is very much diluted. So, regretting it at the time, it has also joined the extended lists of turning out to have been the right thing for me. Obviously, I cannot speak about how Diane, my ex-wife, feels about it.
"Guilt can bring about regret, but guilt does not need to be a prerequisite to regret, which can be caused by not only your own action but that of others." - Peter McSporran
My second and biggest regret is having to leave Zimbabwe. I know you who remain in that country will argue that I could have stayed. The best thing I did was emigrate to Rhodesia under the pretext of attending my sister's wedding. The wedding was a great excuse to fulfil my longing to move to Africa after my visits to that continent in the Merchant Navy. There is another one; the Merchant Navy was a mistake, but if I had not joined it I would likely not have discovered the enchantment of Africa until too late in life to remedy it. Next was owning a farm in that country followed by two lovely daughters which Diane provided me with. When I was in my fifties, I lost the farms and my means to make a livelihood; everything I had was invested in the farms like the vast majority of white Zimbabwean farmers. Before I lost my farms I had already started looking for alternatives within Africa where I could ply my trade, not easy as none could match Zimbabwe, although eventually Zambia came close. I had this ridiculous fear that if I did not plan and be proactive, being in my fifties, I could possibly end up in a small flat in the UK relying on government handouts and my children for support. I would say this fear was verging on paranoia. Luckily, it was the driving force to help myself and others in finding a new life north of our borders. So, leaving at that time no longer seemed to be a choice but rather a step to ensure an opportunity to secure my future. While this decision was proven right, leaving Zimbabwe and, eventually, Africa is my biggest and lasting regret.
In 1994, the rains came early, a blessing to many, especially ranchers, but a disaster for wheat farmers. After the drought of ‘92, many farmers in the country's traditional crop-growing areas invested heavily in dams and irrigation infrastructure in anticipation of the next drought. In the new Zimbabwe, it was unlikely that the Government would have the will or the resources to bail out commercial farms, as we had found out during the 1992 drought. The dams retained the annual runoff, and the irrigation infrastructure applied this water to crops, most of which was winter wheat. Traditionally, winter wheat had a price closer to import parity, a premium, over other crops as we were just below self-sufficiency in the crop. This position would change in later years. We often had early rains, but these were usually fairly heavy and short in duration, doing little harm to the maturing winter cereals. That year, while not heavy, it fell over an extended period with overcast weather. Visually, there was some early sprouting, but even without visual damage on delivery, the quality test failed as the low ‘falling numbers’ put it into undergrade. That is unsuitable for bread making. The price for B-grade wheat that year was the equivalent of US$245, while the millers and the Grain Marketing Board (GMB) were only offering a miserable of US$60 for the undergrade, a meagre price for a product with alternate uses. To put it into perspective, the maize price was US$150, much going into stockfeed. We knew there were ways to mitigate some of it by gristing the poor wheat with good to increase the falling numbers, but that year, the undergrade was far more in volume than the good grades. On the heels of the drought and their significant investment into irrigation, most irrigation farmers were in dire financial straits due to indebtness. While some of the bigger growers could blend some of their crops, most wheat farmers faced bankruptcy or a very tough time in years of recovery if some solution was not found. By this time, there was a massive divide between the millers and the farmers and dialogue between these parties had broken down.
It became obvious, despite their best efforts, that the Zimbabwe Winter Cereals Association, under the leadership of Don Rouse, needed help resolving the crisis. As it would have major ramifications on both cereal and oilseed production in the foreseeable future, as president of the Commercial Farmers Union, I decided to take the lead, with Quentin Haarhoff, chairman of the Grains Council of Zimbabwe, in trying to find a solution. It needed to become a national issue. I had a lot of sympathy with Don as he farmed in the Makonde area amid the highly vocal Nicolle brothers, the biggest wheat growers in the country, who as we all remember, had very strong opinions, which they were more than happy to vent at every opportunity.
Part of that intervention was to reduce the rhetoric and regain some dialogue, so I convened all interested parties, including Minister Kangai, a good ally of farmers, meeting not to air vested interest but rather to try and find a solution. To be honest, I cannot remember much about that meeting, but I do remember well a meeting Quentin and I attended in Shamva. Here, the younger generations of Rae, Morkel and Dunlop gave us an especially torrid time which prompted me to foolishly promise we would find a solution and advised growers to hold off the delivery of their wheat. Quentin had a quiet word with me in the bar afterwards, saying I had been rash, but, as luck would have it, a week or so later Kangai announced a blended price of US$170 for all wheat delivered to the GMB. I am told the State President had helped behind the scenes. I doubt if he publicly wanted to be seen helping white farmers. Strangely, some producers with good quality wheat complained about obtaining the premium as they would have to deliver directly to the millers at their cost. Once again Makonde was the loudest in this regard.
Strangely, shortly after this positive step by the Government, we heard that the three farmers, led by Alistair Davies, had lost their case against land designation in the High Court. So here we had the Government intervening for the survival of farmers on the one hand while intent on taking their farms on the other. I have over the years read that judgement a number of times, which is still not clear to me in its rationale, although it does say compensation for our property is a human right and in the constitution. The main issue in the judgement was to find that land designation for resettlement was for the greater good of the country, and if so it was then therefore deemed legal. As we all well know by that time in late 1994, resettlement was an abject failure due to lack of finance and the ineptitude of the settlers along with corruption, leaving much of the confiscated and bought land in the politically connected hands. If this obvious failure was found to be for the better good, then it does put the judgement into question. Alistair, the McLeans, and Clarkes decided to appeal to the Supreme Court.
On a more positive note building commenced on the new Blackfordby College, a major undertaking for the industry funded by the farmers. I say that all the money involved, including that generously provided by The Farmer magazine had all come out of farmers pockets or in their case those that served farmers. The new college was being established on Klein Kopjes farm in the Concession area. While the old farmhouse was being reconfigured into the administration block accommodation for thirty students, lecture rooms, workshops and an upgrading of the farm's infrastructure had to be done. The ZTA, took the lead with a past president of that organisation and then chairman of Blackfordby, Vec Hurley, being our project lead. We at the CFU were very excited to be part of it.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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