Many years ago, I decided to remove some of the recurring annual stress I would burden myself with by making New Year's resolutions. Like many, I routinely broke them despite my determination at the moment of instigating them. For me, they were more often than not repetitive. The most recurring two were losing weight and drinking less. Ironically, I have now achieved both, not by choice or resolution. I no longer make those annual promises to myself. If I were still in the position to make these false promises to myself, they would probably be broken. Oh, some years, I did lose weight. 1991 was my best effort, which slowly eroded during my four years in office at the CFU. About six months of reduced drinking was my best, never completely dry, but during my time at CFU, it had recovered to a scale of my 1990 Piss Cat of the Year Award at Harare Sports Club. Pleasurable but something not to be proud of. Funnily, I never drank alone; it would be a very rare occasion I would come in and drink a beer after a hot day on the farm.
“I could never understand why I drank. I was gregarious by nature and had lots of friends. It certainly was not for Dutch courage. It must have been I felt both more intelligent and wittier with a beer or a whisky under my belt. Even I knew when drunk, it did not improve my looks.” - Peter McSporran
New Year was always celebrated with a whisky or two, understatement, often into the early hours. In fact, often till, it was time to go to work. This year, we once again went to Nazaré. On New Year, we travelled there, first stopping at São Pedro de Moel on the coast north of our destination and eating at a restaurant, Merkati, which we have frequented several times, renowned for its seafood. The building is a wooden structure on stilts overlooking an isolated beach stretching as far as the eye can see; then onto our regular hotel of choice, Hotel Magic, in Nazaré, where I went to rest while the others, Rozanne, John and Margaret Tidey, went for a walk and of course cocktails.
Due to my health, I was pacing myself before a late supper and hopefully see the New Year in. I succeeded in doing so with Rozanne and good friends, a few amongst a huge crowd on the waterfront and beach. Rozanne conveniently brought my fishing chair, so I was unique in being the only one sitting in a crowd of many thousands seeing in the New Year.
“It is so easy when you have been or are feeling ill not to make an effort to do things. That's where the support of friends and family is needed to get you motivated. You rarely regret it in doing so.” - Peter McSporran
We did not have whisky with us, but John, a bourbon drinker, shared his bottle of chosen poison, thus allowing me to have at least brought in the New Year with an alcoholic drink; how life has changed.
Back in 1993, I had settled into a sort of routine between farming and being at the CFU most of the time. On Mondays, I only went into the office at lunchtime, enabling me to be on the farm all morning, allowing me to spend some time in the main farm office with our administrator, Karen Steyn, and Diane, my wife at the time, sorting out accounts and paying bills. Both only came in late after dropping the kids at school. Each morning, my routine never changed. I would get up and head for the manager's office on Diandra, where I would discuss the day with the managers through the farm radio system. At that time, requests for and clearance of farm purchases were made. By that time, due to the expansion of the business, the farm trucks were often on the road collecting inputs or doing produce deliveries, including pigs and cattle, on a daily basis. In summer, this would be around five am, in winter, just before six am as it would only get light at six thirty am. I would then set off to attend a circuit class in the gym in Harare at seven am, in those days, it took me forty minutes to get there, it would probably take an hour and a half at least today. Roadblocks were rare, traffic was light, traffic lights worked, and as of then, there were no serious potholes. I would spend the day in the CFU or somewhere in the country addressing meetings from Tuesday to Friday. This routine was only interrupted if I had to spend overnight following the more distant district meetings, although I found myself finding my way home many a late night after travelling four or five hours in my Nissan Sunny, my CFU-allocated car. When I became President, we rented a flat in town as there were more social, political or business-oriented events I had to attend. It was a waste of money as I rarely stayed there, often despite being beyond the legal alcohol limit driving home. In general, I would get home between six and seven in the evening. My behaviour and being in the CFU put a strain on my marriage. As for our girls, they were now at boarding school only being home at weekends so did not have to suffer my weekday absences.
On Saturday, after the usual routine on the farm and a couple of hours at the pigs, I would head to our farm, Rydal, at the top of the Mazowe Valley. Here we grew seed maize, wheat and soya on the heavy red soils under irrigation. We also did broilers and tried our hand at potatoes with little success, the latter difficult due to the high clay soils and perhaps management apathy.
“Farm managers are mirrors of farmers. Unless they are fired up about a crop or livestock enterprise, it is sure to struggle, if not fail, under their supervision. A farmer is asking for trouble if he forces a new enterprise on a manager without his full buy-in.” - Peter McSporran
When not too busy, a late attendance at Borrowdale Race Track was on the cards on a Saturday afternoon. My partners and friends at the race track were Vernon Nicolle, always with his wife Vanessa in attendance, Kevin O’Toole and Warwick Small. Sunday was spent on the farm and on occasion, throwing a line in the Darwendale Dam. Sometimes the neighbours would come around, and we would spend social time braaing by the lakeside. Never late, as Monday would be the start of another gruelling week while Diane would have to leave before seven to take the girls back to school.
Finally, this week on the Telegram Group known as the Compensation Awareness Group (CAG), there appeared copies of correspondence supposedly to the chosen few promoting and or asking individuals for support in accepting and promoting the FCA (I presume this stands for Farmers Compensation Agreement as I, like the majority of ex-Zimbabwe farmers have had no sight of the agreement). The correspondence states the Minister has signed the agreement. Who signed on the farmers' behalf or under whose mandate? I have no idea. This agreement, it is said, is for those in dire financial straits or those happy to accept bonds as their compensation. One ex-CFU President, Deon Theron, had the audacity not only to ask for sight of the agreement but also the legality and constitution of the organisation promoting it. I have seen no response to his valid questions. Others were even more confused when they asked if the FCA was clearly outside the now-defunct Global Compensation Agreement. The reason for this confusion was that the sponsors quoted the clauses in the unseen agreement outlining this. It is very hard for Deon and the others to authenticate without having the actual agreement, which, as I write today, Wednesday, has not been made public.
Even worse in the group was the contribution of one CFU councillor in support of the incumbent unelected CFU President. He thought the fact that the CFU’s constitution had not been adhered to in previous elections was a good reason for the incumbent to remain unelected in office. This is despite legal advice to the contrary. It seems two wrongs make a right in Zimbabwean farmer politics.
“The lack of transparency in the preparation of the FCA and the lack of adherence by office-bearers to the constitution of the organisation they represent, the CFU, must contribute to a ‘Not So Happy New Year’ for those farmers that have lost their land and livelihoods.” - Peter McSporran
Aaaah. The FCA agreement arrived Thursday and offers bonds as payments for your improvements. At a quick glance by me as a layman, I would say, contrary to all assurances by the co-promoters, it is definitely linked to the (Global Compensation Agreement) GCD. I would advise anyone considering accepting this offer to seek legal advice.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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