I began this blog to record in the first place my diagnosis and treatment of the suspected cancer in my stomach, which had brought about my heart failure. Subsequently, the growth has been diagnosed as cancer and has since been successfully removed; there will now, therefore, not be so much to report on this unless cancer rears its ugly head again. It, therefore, makes me wonder if there will be a continued interest in the blog if it only focuses on my private life story and investing in Africa. Will it still retain your interest? I must admit sharing my medical woes, then subsequently, the positive interventions helped me through that challenging time. Further, it diluted my litany of complaints to the family, especially my wife, Rozanne. Besides trying to get my heart functioning correctly, it is now a case of monitoring rather than treatment of my stomach and prostate cancer as both are now hopefully in remission. It would, therefore be good to hear your views. Should I continue? If you’d like to share your thoughts, leave them in the comments section below. Mind you; I suppose it leaves the choice for you to read or not in your own hands.
As we go through life, at times we feel lucky or unlucky. Those that are lucky do not talk about it as much as those that feel luck has been against them. Woe is me. Why am I so unlucky? Another thing I have noticed is that some people continually blame bad luck on their circumstances. That is, bad luck is a constant companion following them through life. For me, I have always thought luck comes in equal measure, good and bad. What you can do, though, is increase the opportunity of good luck or temper the effects of bad luck when it prevails. Of course, every so often it is just random; winning the lottery, for example, is good luck or being diagnosed with cancer without any unfavourable life habits is bad. They are random and unpredictable events in my view. Is it luck or fate?
"Every action has a consequence. Some good, some bad some invisible to those around you. Consequences play a bigger part in your life than luck or fate." Peter McSporran
On the other hand, being considered lucky in returning to your locked car with your laptop secure in the trunk alongside someone else who has had their laptop stolen from the back seat of their unlocked car is difficult to define as luck. No matter how much the one losing their laptop decries his luck. At the very least, there were huge contributing factors influencing each party's luck. In this case, you can mitigate the bad luck with good insurance. Many times I have heard people say I forgot to renew my policy or it was too expensive. I think this is how life is; you have the power to influence a positive outcome; some may consider that luck. The times I have had things stolen from my car, I have always felt stupid rather than unlucky. I know many times it could have been avoided. By ensuring you try and minimize the chances of bad luck while assuring, you are in a position to recognize and take the opportunity, gives the perception to be seen by others as lucky. Of course, to be a successful businessperson, you have to take risks. I have not used the word entrepreneur; they take risk to a much higher level. Once again, there are steps you can take to minimize the risk; if you do not take the risk, there is no chance of being lucky in your endeavours. Of course, entrepreneurs may be unlucky many times before succeeding. One instance of perceived luck is seen as eliminating all the previous bad luck. Some do not look at this as simply luck. In life, I believe one has to have an optimistic view, ensure you are in the right place along with an ability to make use of the opportunities offered. Looking back on my life I have no doubt that much of my “good luck” has come about by this. That is being in the right place at the right time. Sure, in some instances being there was brought about by other influencing circumstances. For example, my move to Zambia was due to the appropriation of my land, not a premeditated plan. Mind you, I am convinced my poor fishing record is purely down to bad luck, not my lack of skill. Some including my wife may dispute this.
So I am not a great believer in luck, good or bad. I suggest one should not plan your life around luck. Keil school’s motto was, “Persevere in Hope.” Persevere is good advice, the hope part reflecting optimism which should be a constant in all endeavours.
Do I believe in fate? Nope, you can influence your fate.
Twelve, Peching and Natural History
Keil was a small school, with 140 pupils, all boys, all white when I was there, all assumed Christian, discounting a number of heathens such as myself. The pupils were taught a robust form of self-sufficiency carrying out all the tasks in running the school. The only exception to this was teaching, administration, clinical health and cooking. We would get up in the morning, make our beds and set about our early morning tasks, not learning but cleaning. We would clean the classrooms, dormitories, toilets, driveways, grounds, including mowing the lawns, marking the sports pitches etc. We had no domestics other than kitchen staff. We would set the tables and one table of boys would do the dishwashing following meals for a week each term. Washing pots and metal cooking ashets was deemed the worst task you could get. All food was served in metal ashets each with a quantity to serve twelve hungry boys. We were divided into twelve boy squads. We sat in twelve rows at assembly and prayers from oldest to youngest. During meals we sat at twelve tables served by the older boys while the younger would remove the dirty dishes and cutlery. Depending on the quality of the meals, portions were divided appropriately in the skewed eyes of the senior boys. Favourites ensured larger portions to the seniors while unpopular meals saw the juniors receiving larger portions. We all supplemented our daily food intake with tuck boxes from home. And bread, which seemed to be in limitless supply. All food was placed in warming drawers well before meals. When collected, all had a greasy film, even the porridge somehow. Pots and ashets were cleaned in the same water by disgruntled, scruffy schoolboys; it should have been little wonder where all the grease really came from. We had a school song, a verse of which went thus:
“Ham and eggs we never see
Dirty water for our tea
God save the sloth”
The “sloth” was the cook’s nickname.
We had a gardener, his staff were us, boys. My first term task in the morning was stoking and cleaning the boiler for New House. The building was not new; it was named as such as it housed the first-year students. At each break time and after meals I would have to run back to the boiler room and add coal. I would think being a boilerman at 13 years old would be frowned upon by health and safety standards nowadays. So from 0715 to 0800, we did our first period of cleaning, then a break for breakfast before returning to more cleaning. 0845 was assembly and morning prayers followed with classes until 1300. In winter we had sport in the afternoon returning to lessons from 1600 to 1800. Then high tea followed by early prep from 1900 to 2045 when we had evening prayers and supper. A small bottle of milk and a tea biscuit. Some supper! The state provided the milk. Then late prep for the older boys, third year, until 2145. Up to second year lights out was at 2130 and for the third year at 2215. In summer, lessons continued until 1600 when we had sport in the evening to benefit from the longer days. Everyone had to play rugby. I really enjoyed the rugby.
During the term, we would get three permissions which were either Saturday or Sunday afternoons when your parents could take you out for a meal. They could be arbitrarily removed by prefects for deemed bad behaviour, which was ill-defined. Needless to say, I did not take one with my parents, they never visited during the term. However, I did take permission on occasion with other boys' parents. Notably the Robertsons, from Edentaggart Farm, Luss on the banks of Loch Lomond. The one weekend I said I could not go as I was convinced my parents were coming. Ever hopeful. As my parents did not appear, my friend felt I had found fault with his family and the invites ended. My father stopped briefly a few times when he travelled through Dumbarton. This was not often as most of the livestock sales were in Central Scotland in places such as Stirling and Lanark. My parents did come to one speech day. They never really showed much interest in my welfare or education other than reviewing my exam results at the beginning of each school holiday which were never good. They did send the occasional food parcel to top up my “tuck box” along with a telephone call on Sunday evenings. Food was so terrible and sparse at the school, we all had tuck boxes. My father in the early years would drop me off and pick me up at term beginning and end. This quickly reverted to me catching the West Highland train. A steam engine trip from Dumbarton to Oban hauling my school trunk filled with filthy clothes going home and clean on my return. The school did retain a laundry service but things like rugby kits rarely got washed in term time.
Was there bullying? Yes. In my first year, I suffered from mental bullying, not physical bullying. Although, I think the definition of bullying in the 60s at that school was very different from what is termed as bullying in 2021. Not only was the school run by the boys, but punishment was meted by them, not just writing lines and “Natural History*” but corporal punishment as well. Much of the bullying may have been hidden under the guise of punishment. Nobody questioned the punishment given or the reason why, certainly not the headmaster or the teaching staff. Light corporal punishment was what was called “peching”. That was a beating on your backside with a shoe. To give you an idea of how severe it could be, a Chief’s “peching” could mean all twelve senior prefects giving one boy six whacks each. That is 72 whacks on your backside at one time. We were men then. Canes and coat hangers were alternative weapons of choice. In class, the teachers used the “tawse” (belt). Some teachers rarely used it, others loved to show their prowess with it. Some ensured your sleeves were pulled up as your wrist was where it hurt most, likely to draw blood. After the first year, none of us feared these punishments and welcomed corporal punishment rather than detention or “Natural History”. These took up your precious free time.
In my case, the head boy in my first year took a huge dislike to me. He did not physically hit me but demeaned me at every opportunity he could. Many of the pupils were children of serving colonial staff in the British Government or expatriates. This particular boy was from Hong Kong. When he left, he went to Sandhurst to train as an army officer. One morning at assembly, shortly thereafter leaving, the Headmaster informed us he had a serious accident in training rendering him paraplegic. I must admit I felt no sympathy nor did I think it was bad luck.
Next week more about Keil.
Agricultural Ambitions and Implementation
With reassurances from our new State President, emphasised by Julius Nyerere, at the first Harare Agricultural Show following Independence many of us farmers opted to remain. Nyerere spoke about how he had made an error in nationalising the land and advised Mugabe to look after us commercial farmers, which he did while the Lancaster House Agreement was in place. We had the best of all worlds. World demand for our good quality tobacco, beef and cotton while our food crops were handled by the parastatal marketing boards still run by specialised, although aged professionals. Much of the agricultural research, development and extension services were still in place, these were soon to find themselves being underfunded with knowledgeable, professional staff being replaced by political appointees. This was partly affirmative action, but many talented black professionals saw their promotional opportunities being awarded to the politically connected. Of course, this was happening throughout the civil service and the armed forces. We no longer had call-ups but each farming area ran its own neighbourhood watch. More detail of this time will come in my later life story.
By this time I started to expand my tobacco and groundnuts, I had obtained a seed maize quota shortly followed with a seed wheat quota. I was farming on Diandra and Mede but had started thinking of further expansion. We now had a full-time manager, Tony Leckie, based at Mede Farm growing the tobacco. Each year I expanded the irrigation but I was now seeing land as a limitation. The opportunity came up to lease a neighbouring farm, Henry Bezuidenhout, of Marivale Farm who wanted to earn some foreign currency by working outside the country. We had serious foreign currency restrictions in those early years of Independence, not unlike those prior to Independence however, sanctions and the war could be blamed then. There were obviously other priorities earmarked for the foreign currency brought in from tobacco, cotton, beef and minerals. I had a young manager working for me on the home farm, Mike von Memerty, who relocated to run the leased farm. Both Tony and Mike were successful managers sharing in the respective farms profits they ran. Both after a few years were able to go farming in their own right.
I was finding the conflict between seed crops and tobacco a constant issue coupled with the fact that the sandy soils in our area were not ideal for seed maize or wheat. I, therefore, started looking for another property, eventually settling on a farm in the Mazowe Valley, Rydal Farm, which had both access to water and rich, red soils. This farm was some 680ha. I further employed a workshop manager along with one of the manager's wives helping my wife at the time, Diane in the office. Of course, to do this expansion now I had to source some medium-term capital which my bank provided. So much easier in those days where your bank manager took an interest in your business and knew about farming. Decisions were made on knowledge and experience not some computer-generated algorithm. At this time I also introduced cattle. A wonderful tool to manage tax and use as collateral for the bank's security. Cattle had fixed values so if you were having a good year, no better way than buy cattle and write them down to the fixed value on your books. Of course, you had to have historical low fixed values. We began with a mixed breeding herd. For cash flow flexibility, we started fattening cattle, buying at the end of the tobacco selling season which coincided with the end of the tax year. Once fattened, we sold during the next crop growing season. Buying and selling cattle became a large part of my business and broadened my social life. Of all the enterprises I ever ran, cattle by far gave me the most satisfaction. Cattle sales and shows became a large part of my social life. Reminiscent of my early life as a child.
Natural History* sweeping drives, weeding, digging or other ground maintenance tasks including master’s gardens.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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