After a cloudy weekend, we have bright sunshine once again and as the newspapers say; May weather in February. 90% of Portugal is amid serious drought, feels a bit like being back in Africa.
I am writing this on our verandah, not stoop as we are not in Africa. I do miss the evenings spent on our or our neighbours’ stoops having a dorp as the sun goes down. Unlike Europe, in Central Africa our sun would never go down in winter much earlier than 6 pm or 7 pm in summer, so sunset and evening drinks could be within those set hours throughout the year.
Meanwhile, there is a dark cloud rising in eastern Europe driven by a dictator. Of course, the west is looking pretty ineffective in its initial reaction.
“Liberal comfortability, just like any social excess, can create a dangerous complacent world unable to deal with palpable hardship and conflict.” - Peter McSporran
I am currently reading about a farming family from the Tokwe farming block near Shurugwi (Selukwe) when it appears on my FaceBook timeline from the private group Rhodesian Farmer 1890 to 1980. It is written by a descendant of one of these pioneering farmers, being Tom Hogg. I can smell the freshly ploughed soil from his writing. It is totally enthralling, emphasising the spirit of these early settlers, there under the auspices of a British Government which in the end was happy to abandon them with no recognition to their efforts in making their Empire a success nor reward for their contribution to Britain during both world wars. Tom, among others who have a great knowledge of their ancestors or simply their own farming or Rhodesian war experiences, are well worth reading. These personal recitals bring you much honesty compared to the politically generated self-interest history of today. To me, it is better reading than any novel despite the melancholy it brings. A massive loss of homes, farms, livelihoods and futures.
“There was nothing better than the smell of the first rains, the aroma of freshly mowed grass or the comforting haze and occasional whiff in the evening of village cooking fires on the farm to instil a sense of well-being.”- Peter McSporran
My stomach if anything is worse with more and more blood tests showing negative or results within normal parameters, so next week back for a colonoscopy. Kidneys, liver etc seem to be functioning correctly. As the national health clinics are busy, I have been having my tests at the state's cost in one of the many local private clinics. Talking about local services, it always impresses me how efficient the system is here. Last Thursday I had numerous blood samples taken for some thirty-odd screenings, having the test results to hand in my email inbox that very evening. No appointment necessary, just drop in, as with the ECG. I rolled up early on Monday in preparation for my anaesthetic next week for the colonoscopy. I popped into the clinic at 8 am and the results were certified by a cardiologist and in my mailbox within the hour. Unfortunately, I delayed my colonoscopy scheduled planned for this week due to travel plans which subsequently have been cancelled. Probably a blessing in disguise as my present condition often requires unscheduled urgent visits to the toilet. This week we have even curbed our visits to local restaurants, luckily the garden is within easy range.
First Contact For Me (1974)
The next morning we broke camp well before sunrise ready to set off at first light in search of the CT camp close by. The captives were very reluctant to accompany us and did so only on being reminded of the consequences if they didn't. Our platoon commander, Glyn Garvie split us into two, he was taking a pole position with two sticks while I had to back up the rear. He did this as he expected to be ambushed and we could, in the rear, hopefully, be able to take up a position to counter any attack. In theory, sounded good! Anyway, we suddenly broke out of the thick bush into a clearing of high elephant grass, with a well-worn trail passing through it which we followed. Normally we would have gone in an extended line but as the grass would make control difficult, Glyn, in haste, set off almost in single file. As the lead sections closed in on the next tree line they came under fire and responded immediately. We could hear this although unable to see anything due to the six-foot-high grass. We were in an even worse position as the track meandered so the contact could be either on our left or right of the track. Both sides firing intermingled but identifiable for their own characteristics. I remember Corporal Griffiths saying, “Sarge, let’s go!” I was reluctant as we could have easily walked into our own fire if we left the narrow track without any indication of events from our Lieutenant. Obviously too busy to speak? The initial contact only lasted, it seemed like a few minutes but as it did, two CTs appeared out of the grass jumping over a couple of startled troopies to my rear, disappearing into the long grass on the other side without using their weapons. They were just as surprised as we were, of course then, we opened up.
Following the attack, we searched the area well into the tree line on all sides. We found a blood spoor which I followed up. Low and behold after about fifty metres, we came upon the unluckiest kudu cow in the world that morning. Hit in the backside by a stray bullet. Even more surprising, it was within a few hundred metres of the terrorist camp which, while not made of substantive buildings, just poles and grass, was very extensively hidden under the thick bush cover which was now visible in the tree line. On coming across the camp, it was obvious that the ambush was more a delay tactic than a serious assault. We were to find this common at the beginning of the war, very much hit and run.
The opposition weapons were distinct not just in sound, but rapid-fire was another clue. Their idea was automatic fire, more bullets were more likely to hit a target than well-aimed double-taps as we were trained. Looking at the number of huts and the utensils left behind it would appear the enemy far outnumbered us, but were obviously not in a mood to fight. Needless to say, we expected them to regroup and counter-attack. An attack that never came but the thought of which kept us taunt nerved for the next few days until our exit.
On contacting our headquarters we were told to search the camp and immediate area, then destroy it by fire. Nothing like letting the whole of that area of Mozambique know where a few greenhorn troopies were. On lighting the huts after searching, we quickly took cover once again as we thought we were under severe attack. It turned out that a huge amount of ammunition had been hidden in the thatched roofs and on being heated from the fires, soon started to explode causing no harm, only noise. Funnily enough, we did a cursory look at the roofs, but we would not have found the rounds unless we actually destroyed them which we had not the time for. We were also told to take our captives back with us, so off we set, this time following a well-worn path that must have been used for the terrorist's entry and exit into Zimbabwe. We were no longer clandestine, orders were just get back to the border asap. One more night in the mosquito-ridden bush and then the next day extraction close to the border by Alouette helicopters. They had two crew, a pilot and tech who also manned the double mounted-browning machine guns and could take a stick of four troopies. We had left as sixteen, so were now nineteen with our captives. That meant three of us had to wait for one chopper to return to extract us, which left us lonely and alert for a further hour as I was in this last remaining stick.
Back at camp the Major thought it was a success, the other platoons were jealous we had the first contact while we felt sort of superior even although in most aspects it was a failure. We had just learned we had much to master if we were going to kill some terrorists in the future. In all honesty, the blame was with our superiors sending us out with limited information, no reconnaissance, no clear mission along with lack of backup which luckily in this event, we did not need. We had been all desperate to have contact if not some kills before the war ended or at least our National Service did. We had now started counting down the days left in our year of National Service, although we still had about five months to go. We need not have worried about either, as the war was to last for many years to come and contact became the expected not the unexpected. Unfortunately, the number and the tenacity of the enemy also increased as our own numbers dwindled due to emigration.
The Challenges of Investing in African Agriculture Part X Continued - Corruption
5. Bureaucratic
Bureaucratic corruption is probably the most common for the honest ordinary citizen to come across. I suppose it also comes under ‘opportune’. Throughout Africa civil servants including police and military are underpaid. This is more so for the lower and middle-ranking people while the hierarchy may be awarded privileges and benefits to ensure their loyalty. Therefore those in the lower ranks to supplement their meagre income resort to bribes and extortion to boost this. Normally, they themselves cannot ask outright for the bribe, hence the manufactured delays mentioned previously. These are bureaucratic opportunistic. At a higher level, the corruption is more motivated by straightforward greed and due to the standing of the individual, bribes or favours may be asked for outright as it is felt within their rights. This is due to being closer to the normally small clique of not only senior civil servants but party members. They feel untouchable. In dealing with these people a strong position coupled with threats of action both real or made up can make a difference. Remember, most corrupt civil servants are both weak and bullies. You can normally recognise the corrupt members of any department due to their sleek oily look, smart cars and expensive tastes. Fear of living above one's means does not seem to be an issue with these people. Money is not kept in banks but in cars, houses and luxury items, always with some stashed in a mattress somewhere which invariably remains hidden.
6. Corporate
Corporate corruption comes in two main forms. The fixers and the procurers are the unofficial titles of these people.
The fixers are there to remove bureaucratic obstacles, get items through the border without delays, maybe even duties, deal with lawsuits within the courts including the police and labour affairs and handle tenders. Often they are ex-members of the police force, state security officials or long-term politically connected players in the countries ‘chef’ structure. When you enter their offices, their desks are empty except perhaps a safe present in the corner for ready cash. Corruption, both giving and taking, love cash.
“Cash is king more so in Africa than anywhere else in the world.” - Peter McSporran
Of course, the senior executives will deny any knowledge of the workings of this bare office other than the incumbent is well paid with a large expense account which is unlikely to be reconciled. Yes, they say, he fixes, but only by legal means. Certainly, not all corporates have them; many may not be directly employed, rather they are an expensive consultant or sub-consultant to some or other entity providing services. Under whatever guise, the role is the same.
The procurer is a completely different kettle of fish. He is feeding his own greed. For example, most mines have dedicated providers of materials and equipment along with services. To get on that list you need to be ‘vetted’ by the procurement manager. What power. It can be a one-off payment or a percentage kickback on goods or services. Kickbacks are all too common the world over, but the very corporate governance rules make it easier for barriers to be created and misused by dishonest staff.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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