Lesson from the Media And Confusion.
I rather sillily decided to watch last Friday's presentation on ZFN Zimbabwe’s ‘Friday’s Drinks’ as it claimed it would help to clarify the progress on compensation for land confiscated in Zimbabwe which took place some twenty years ago. Supposedly it would be from the horse's mouth, that is; ‘From a reliable source, on the best authority within the Compensation Steering Committee (CSC).’
Never trust the press or media interviewers. Their job is to ask the hard questions, seeing the interviewee unable to answer or squirm, which is always great copy or viewing. It was to prove no different last Friday. This is not insulting to the interviewee, it takes years to learn how to deal with a clever interviewer, best if possible ask for the subject matter before the event, especially in one casually called Friday Drinks. I am sure that the interviewee had no idea the interviewer was going to suggest there may have been conflicts and a possible lack of integrity within the CSC itself. Instead of stonewalling it, the person being questioned tried to argue his case, always hard to do in front of the cameras without a set and scripted answers. Too often one simple answer is the door to an even more difficult question.
Unfortunately, the interviewee, an elderly ex-farmer like myself seemed unsure of who or what he represented despite being part of the CSC. In the beginning, we thought it the farmers, by the end, he said the CSC. He was asked to clarify or at least try to clarify the present position in regard to the value and form of compensation on offer to the disposed ‘white’ farmers in Zimbabwe. Unfortunately, the interviewee seemed to be ill-prepared for what were in my mind many pertinent questions that should have been succinctly answered by someone actively involved in negotiations with Government. It became very quickly clear it was more, “I am, I did, I know better.” Until it became, “let me tell you” rather than an informed non-biased exposè of the present situation. Why try and defend the deal? Rather answer with the facts and let those listening make up their mind.
Much has been written in social media about the interview which no doubt has caused consternation amongst title deed holders (TDHs). I'm not going to dwell on the actual content, it would take a better man than me to unravel the numbers mentioned alone. Rather I feel that three specific issues confused me as an old man. I presume I can call myself ‘old’ now I am nearing my mid-seventies?
The first was that the interviewee said that he did represent the farmers' view and then later said he did not represent the farmers, rather he was speaking on behalf of the CSC. Okay, but then in my elderly mind, was I wrong in thinking that the CSC is representing the farmers in trying to obtain, if not fair, at least reasonable compensation? Therefore, by implication surely the CSC, and its members represent us. How confusing! Dean Theron posted later, “That statement said it all.” I'm inclined to agree.
“If you are offered a banger of a used car by a dodgy salesman it does not make you a radical in rejecting it. Rather It makes you sensible.” - Peter McSporran
Not for the first time in a public forum, the interviewee said that the deal placed on the table was the only deal and had been rejected by radicals. As the deal was rejected by the majority does that mean the many rather than the few are the radicals? When has it become radical to give a yes or a no to a question in regard to your rights that may well impact on your future well-being? Have I been using the word radical as a description of those that want sudden or great change, normally the few, incorrectly all these years? In answering no, we just wanted fair compensation due to us under the constitution of the country, we were not wanting to change the law.
“Property rights contribute to individual freedom giving the comfort to invest, develop and employ to the benefit of the country. For Zimbabwe to succeed, land must have value and ownership by means of title or a freely transferable long lease. By confiscating the land with no compensation, this undermines the intrinsic value of the land now and in the future.” - Peter McSporran
Finally, the last confusing statement I include in my very short summary is on a personal matter in regard to company directors' responsibilities. When the question of integrity came up, the interviewee should have answered shortly and succinctly instead of opening further questions with a lengthy unnecessary answer perhaps not about his integrity, but his capability as a company director. The interviewee said as a non-executive director (NED) he could not be held responsible for the actions of senior management and the executive directors of a company in which he sat on the board. You had to believe what was presented, not question them, he said. Is that not the NEDs role, to question and challenge? He further said he sat on many boards and it was normal to accept what was presented unless something was obviously wrong. I have also sat on many boards and it has been made repeatedly clear to me my responsibilities which are equal to all others on the board including executive directors. Being a board director is a great responsibility especially so in a bank where surely some of the independent directors sat on an audit committee. In this case, perhaps they did not have one? They should have seen the problems with the numbers in the accounts and flagged the board. It is not a privilege to sit on the board, it is a duty, I am not sure how the defence argument went down with those that lost money in Tetrad.
Magaruque Island Fishing Trip.
I think it was in late 1988 when I went on my first deep-sea fishing trip to Mozambique. Our insurance company run by John Anderson decided to sponsor a group of farmers and agricultural service providers to a fishing event, a friendly competition, on Magaruque Island, we just had to find our way there. It was the height of the civil war in Mozambique with much of that country, especially the central and north, controlled by the Romano rebels. Therefore, driving was out of the question, no commercial flights obviously, so private chartered planes were the only means. Approximately twenty of us set off in small planes, the largest being Wessel Rautenbach’s, King Air. Most were four-seaters. Myself and Neville Hoy were given a lift by Peter Rawson, the Managing Director of Karina Carpets, on his plane. We had to go via Beira to clear customs, landing at the deserted and dilapidated airport with many Russian helicopters and jets laying in various stages of disintegration. The airport was empty except for the tower where all the government officials seemed to be. I was surprised to see Rufus Synman, from Twin Rivers in Karoi, exit Wessel’s large aircraft and head for the tower in a pilot's uniform. I was to learn he had no passport so was being smuggled in as aircrew. Rufus, a legend in his own lifetime, was not best known for his sober habits, nor did he know anything about planes let alone fly one so we all held our breath hoping the ruse would work. I remember clearly walking through the abandoned buildings and even the kitchens, in my mind perhaps reminiscent of Marie Celeste. Funnily, while all the tables and chairs had gone, the pots, pans and cookers remained.
From there to Magaruque, what a paradise. There we were designated boats easiest done by allocating a boat to each planeload of people hence Peter, Neville and myself found ourselves on a barge rather than a fishing vessel owned by an Asian gentleman who delivered fuel and other supplies to the islands. The boat stank of rotting fish and diesel, the dirty deck planking covered in slick of both. We had a practice run that evening, having borrowed some sea fishing rods and reels from Mickey and Ingrid Tanner who used to reside in Northern Mozambique before returning to Zimbabwe so I thought we were ready for anything. That first day Brett Roberts, a tobacco shipper fishing for bait caught a marlin which when weighed proved to be an all Africa record on his line weight. This got us all excited with great expectations although the slow speed of our vessel would prove a hindrance in our ability to get to the deeper reefs.
Our boat’s engine was inboard and spewed copious amounts of old blackened exhaust fumes, while the engine sweated oil and diesel copiously as it rattled and crashed at its efforts to get to nine knots. It was also to set the tone for the rest of the trip for Neville who no sooner had we left the shelter of the island, had become chronically seasick. For all three days he was sick, I have never seen anyone so ill before or ever again. He spent his days with his head over the boat's gunnel both to enable him to vomit in the sea and lessen the dreadful stench and smoke on board. He would only leave the gunnel when it was his turn to reel in a fish, immediately returning to his chosen position on it being landed. It also became obvious the slow speed of the boat ensured an added problem, that of sharks which soon learned to follow us and feed on our catch as we fought it. Changing position or direction was not an option as they nonchalantly swam with us even overtaking us as if they knew where we were heading. How we despised sharks. Not as much though as Rupert van der Ruit who at that time had a crocodile farm on one of the islands and carried a rifle to shoot at any shark that took his fish. Neville added to his sickness by landing a large hammerhead shark, we did not know much about shark conservation then, which lay on the deck exuding a sickly stench capable of turning the strongest gut into liquid.
Very early on I was both delighted and excited to get some large and exceedingly fast fish on, what type I did not know. I had Mickey Tanner's large but old even vintage Penn reel on the rod and soon became agitated as my line depleted at a very fast rate. Could a fish swim this fast? Gosh, I was very green! I did the stupid thing, after the drag offered no resistance to the fish, I pressed the line with my thumb immediately awarded by a combined painful cut and burn. When the line ran out, it seemed to be in seconds, the bakerite spool exploding as the fish smashed it out of the reel. I have no idea what it was, but as they say, the big ones get away.
The nights were filled by consuming copious quantities of wine and shellfish. Each day there were more and more green men on the boats. The second day we ran out of ice and Wessel’s sent the smaller of his two planes for a resupply from Beira. This was to lead to problems on our return trip. Despite our slow boat and with the help of a second shark landed by me, we won the prize for the heaviest amount of fish. Nowadays we would have been bottom, but on this trip, sharks counted.
On the way home we stopped at Paradise Island (Santa Carolina) for a swim and refreshments. I will always remember Rufus following Wessels around with a wheelbarrow full of Chivas Regal offering all a final day's celebratory drink. From there to Beira where Rufus, although less sober, once again pulled his impersonation trick. We learned there was fuel here and unfortunately, the young pilot, who did the extra ice run did not refuel thinking he had adequate fuel. The plane ran out of fuel near Marondera and had to crash land, injuring one of the passengers, Amanda Anderson, quite badly. A sad note at the end of a great trip to the Bazaruto Archipelago. I was often to visit on holiday in the future.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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