My Thoughts on Loneliness
This particular subject, loneliness, has been chosen as I have become older, I realise there are a lot of lonely people out there. Many due to circumstances outside their control, their silent calls for help unheard. Too shy to state or share the fact that they are lonely. Notwithstanding their reticence, we can all do something about it in our daily life with little effort on our part. Many of us have been behind closed doors off and on for over a year now. Some of these doors have, through time, become impregnable human barriers not just for the exit but also the entry.
Loneliness can be found in many forms. In my youth, I myself was very gregarious wishing for company all the time. I did not seek company because I was lonely, even as a single man on the farm. Rather the company I sought was the need for social interaction. The recent lockdowns have prohibited this social interaction, to a greater extent many classifying this as forced loneliness despite those caring about you and thinking of you, even from a distance. Unfortunately, this is not always so, especially in old age when spouses have departed and children are focused on the next generation instead of their surviving parents. Sometimes an elderly spouse is ill or immobile which can also bring about forced loneliness not only for themselves but also for their partner or carer. This can become both loneliness coupled with frustration, especially with Covid-19. An unhappy mix. The more vulnerable you are, the more you have to restrict your visitors, the more your carer/spouse has also to restrict his or her contacts in turn to protect you.
“To relieve loneliness and reassure victims of loneliness that someone cares, a simple phone call can make all the difference.” Peter McSporran
Then you have those that feel lonely in a crowd, a feeling of nobody cares or even notices one. This can lead to despair and depression. Sometimes this feeling of loneliness only increases the barriers in one’s head, eventually making an impenetrable mental wall. This is when you need the support of your community, not just your friends. Sometimes, because of the barriers, you may unknowingly create, you lose contact with friends. In the Portuguese village where I live, our neighbours become very agitated when we have not spoken for a few days, they are concerned neighbours as we all should be. This is the traditional rural way and should not be mistaken for nosiness or intrusion. Equally, do not use these as an excuse for your lack of concern.
We should also remember some people are happy in their loneliness. I remember a hermit who used to live at the side of the road between Oban and Clarianarich on a bleak Argyllshire moorland. He chose to be alone and seemed happy in his solitude. He and his like are generally the exceptions. I used to think how miserable it must be enduring freezing winters alone in his shack with just a spiral of smoke - the only sign that there was someone living there. I of course was not him.
“Keep in touch with your neighbours, think of it as a community duty. Despite the higher populations of cities, they are where you will find the most loneliness.” Peter McSporran
Follow-ups
Things are happening again after a period of medical inaction. This Friday I have my first Covid-19 vaccination, the Astra Zeneca one. When the nurse from the local clinic called asking me to attend for my vaccination I inquired about Rozanne, my wife. She laughed and said she was “much too young”. Was that a compliment or an insult to me?
On Thursday the 22nd of April, I go for blood tests etc. to review my cancer following my surgery in January. The follow-up consultation is only on the 13th of May.
On the 22nd of April, I also have further treatment for my eye thrombosis. This is normally an injection into the eye. That Friday I have a Covid-19 test in preparation for a hospital appointment on the 27th of April when I go in for my cardiac appointment. This procedure is to try to get rid of my heart arrhythmia. I am told that under anaesthetic they will stop my heart and then electrically kick start it again hopefully restoring a more regular heartbeat. I have enjoyed my two months break from seeing doctors. I did relish this time.
Dar-es-Salaam and Zanzibar
From Tanga, we sailed onto Dar-es-Salaam. As we entered the harbour for the first time we were met by a ship anchored in the middle of the harbour with a huge portrait of Mao Tse-Tung festooned from its masts. This visual display was accompanied by extremely loud traditional Chinese music and I guessed Mao’s pearls of wisdom as Chinese interjections interrupted the music every so often. These sayings were probably as enlightening to the Tanzanians as they were to me, having no knowledge of Mandarin. That night, to our dismay we learnt this cacophony went on night and day. Did they think they could indoctrinate us through lack of sleep? Dar-es-Salaam although the main port and capital of Tanzania at the time was still fairly small, with no traffic to speak of. Nothing like today, traffic often at a complete standstill for many hours. The shorefront was dominated by a multi-story hotel then recently completed named The Kilimanjaro. A hub of social activity. A haven to diplomats, European carpetbaggers, tourists and the odd big game hunter. When I returned 20 years later in 1999, the hotel was a derelict multi-storey squatter camp. Three years on and it had become the luxury Kempinski, in competition to a multitude of new luxury hotels. How and why it was destroyed so quickly the first time around is a mystery to me. Nationalisation? Similar hotels around the world stand for many decades.
As with all ports we visited, we played sports against other ships and local clubs. In Dar rugby against the ex-pats at the Gymkana Club, soccer against local African teams along with other ships in the harbour and cricket against the Asian Sports Clubs. Of course, no matter what port we generally lost soccer and cricket against the local teams. Rugby and soccer on occasion we would win both against the local ex-pats and other ships. For some reason, we rarely took refreshments during the games in those days so the beer shandy at the end of the match hardly touched sides. Of course, only one shandy followed by many beers. I think we were such poor opposition to the local African teams, I think they only played us for the free beers afterwards. We did not offer much competition on the field despite our best efforts. In the bar, we fared much better. The Asians were the most festive although inclined to go, boringly, through the match ball by ball. Maybe if we had won on occasion it may have shut them up. This never happened in my time on the East African coast.
From Dar, we set off to Zanzibar where once again we anchored offshore. On our visit ashore we were very restricted in our movements as the Arabs had only recently been disposed of there. In place of the Arabs, the “Green Guards” had taken control along with the Chinese. Many Chinese. Of interest, during the revolution there, when the Arabs were massacred, John Okello who lead the revolution, instructed his people not to touch the whites. I wonder why? Okello was a Ugandan house painter, how the hell did he end up leading a revolution in Zanzibar? He never enjoyed his success and the new leaders soon banished him to obscurity and was rumoured to have experienced an early death in his native Uganda. Seemingly Idi Amin thought Uganda was too small for two Field Marshals, both unilaterally claiming this high military rank.
In hindsight, we ecologically behaved very badly there, buying lots of coral and conch shells very cheaply. There were not many tourists, no hotels nor bars open that we could see, so there was no competition for the vendors who far outnumbered the buyers. Other than a visit to Stone Town or a swim, both under the watchful eye of the “Green Guards,” there was not much to do. To be on the edge of paradise without freedom! How dismal!
From here we set off to Mtwara in the south, more about that the next time.
The Land Issue Rears its Ugly Head
Under the Lancaster Agreement signed in 1979, the new regime in Zimbabwe agreed to hold a land reform for ten years, in essence until 1990. The British and American Governments then agreed to assist the Zimbabwean Government in land redistribution and resettlement. The Lancaster Agreement had many flaws with some agreements only verbal with regard to some of the most critical issues, including land. Anyway, up until 1990 generally, the land was purchased by Government on a willing buyer, willing seller basis, the compensation often supplied by the British. This was working well, however, the resettlement that followed was a total disaster. The new settlers lacked the knowledge to farm commercially, lacked adequate technical support with little or no financial support. Commercial farms became wastelands with only a few exceptions. Existing infrastructure was destroyed as sharing was difficult. Rather than have fifty families fight over a house or shed, take a sheet or a brick to use elsewhere. Even worse than this, some of the politicos started taking the said farms, bought and paid for by the British, for themselves. Relations became strained between Zimbabwe and Britain with the white farmers in the middle. Neither country claimed responsibility for the farmers although most were Zimbabwean citizens with British heritage. In about 1991, the Government produced a list of 300 farms for compulsory purchase for resettlement. We at the CFU immediately tried to mitigate against this by asking, in some cases succeeding, the Government to look at underutilised land first. This became a major exercise identifying unused or underutilised land with willing sellers to reduce the political heat. Even the definition of underutilised land was contentious. At least at this stage, even if you wanted to keep your farm, if you lost it, you could expect some compensation. The problem was that the British Government was concerned about human rights in Zimbabwe and probably more importantly did not see it as their role to compensate white farmers so they could be replaced by the political elite for their own benefit. When the Minister of Lands was exposed to have not just benefitted from one farm but many by an old friend of mine and journalist, Brian Latham, the cat was among the pigeons. The CFU, British Government and the Zimbabwean Government walked a tight pathway trying to keep some sense of economic reality. This was made easier on the back of the devastating drought of 1992 when food production recovery was critical for the country's economic survival. By 1994 we were back to full production so once again vulnerable. As we well know with time, the economy lost its importance in Mugabe’s fight for political survival. Needless to say, with a few exceptions, we had an open door to any Government Minister. We even met with Mugabe on a number of occasions. I could never read him. The lasting impression of my meetings with him was how immaculately he was dressed and groomed. What was going on in his head, I was clueless. There is no doubt, like many evil people he was highly intelligent and ruthless. He would do what was good for him and as time went on the most important thing became his political survival, not the country, let alone the man in the street or field.
During my term as Vice President and President of the CFU, we generally kept the lid on a very overheated pot. When I stood for Vice President Nick Swanepoel stood against me. Nick was Africaans with his ancestors being in Africa for many centuries. He was African, although white. He had built his own farming enterprise up with hard work having to relocate after the war from the district of Mayo, an especially volatile hotspot. Nick's house, with him and his family in it, had sustained one of the longest single house attacks during the war. He was tough, a street fighter. The CFU director, David Hasluck, once informed me the land issue would have been better addressed by Nick. Unfortunately, Nick who happened to be my Vice President, on becoming the President had to face an even more torrid time. Nothing would alter Mugabe’s agenda, especially with the War Vets* in full cry. With the Labour Government coming into power in 1997 the UK immediately disowned any responsibility the Conservatives made on land compensation and resettlement in Zimbabwe. A very weak legal argument which all proceeding British Governments have stood by. Perfidious Albion. Even worse Mugabe and Blair took an instant dislike to each other with Claire Short eventually destroying any dialogue by sending Mugabe’s Minister of Lands, Kumbiria Kangai at the time, a letter saying being Irish she was not a colonialist and her Government has no responsibility to the regime in Zimbabwe in regard to land.
“I should make it clear that we do not accept that Britain has a special responsibility to meet the costs of land purchase in Zimbabwe. We are a new Government from diverse backgrounds without links to former colonial interests. My own origins are Irish and as you know we were colonised not colonisers.” Excerpt from a letter from Clair Short to Zimbabwean Government
Kangai said the letter made Mugabe furious with the British Government, this fury was said to last until his death. Notwithstanding his human rights abuses and his non-democratic ways of staying in power, he felt the British had reneged on their commitment to an independent Zimbabwe, as did its white farmers. The writing was now on the wall, new extensive lists appeared with Nick trying to keep a lid on it. Hasluck was wrong, although, in the beginning, he may have been right even Nick could not stop the often violent take over of white land. As an aside, Kangai and I became friends enjoying the odd whiskey together. Next week I will reflect on some of the more positive aspects of my time at CFU.
*War Vets - Ex fighters from the War of Independence. Many self proclaimed demanding land.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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