I am seventy-two this year, not old in many parts of the world, very old in others. In Africa seventy-two is old. In the world, the average life expectancy is about seventy-five years old. While Zimbabwe and that region of Africa is only about sixty. Poor health services, disease, poor to no nutrition and road accidents add up to an early death toll. Legal alcohol along with home-brewed alcohol, also known as Kachasu, does not only lead to road deaths but home deaths also. My race's generation in Africa was also known for their heavy drinking and overeating, especially red meat. Nothing like a Rhodesian steak, world-renowned. Rhodesia and then Zimbabwe was where some of the finest tobacco was grown in the world. Unlike many dairy farmers who rarely drink milk, Zimbabwe tobacco farmers nearly all smoked cigarettes. In regard to alcohol, many bragged on and were looked up to with respect to the sheer volume of their consumption. All these, mostly a combination, leads to liver failure and other diseases in later life. Many of us may ask if this is better than living to a ripe old age? Of course, these early death participants are not around to tell us. In earlier life, traffic accidents were all too common throughout Africa. Two of my neighbours died in car crashes along with one of my best friends and neighbours sons. Even now among the young, it is still a very prevalent cause of death in that part of the world. Of course, many young people lost their lives on both sides during the war in the 1970s. Two of my neighbours' sons were killed in the war. Stress-related diseases in later years are also common. There seems to be a lot of cancer to be found in Zimbabweans, is this due to the stress of losing farms, livelihoods, homes and scattered families? It certainly brought about a lot of depression and addiction. Meanwhile, life expectancy in Zimbabwe is the same if not worse than at Independence. In the same period in the UK, life expectancy rose by ten years. This tells you something about the Governance we have had to endure since Independence. Please do not look at health or education statistics for that country, it will make you cry.
What I am really trying to say is that I am considered old amongst my African peers, while not so to my European friends. I never expected to reach my present age so I have had to review my life’s business plan. Over the years, I have lost many friends, as we all have, but in the last ten years, it seems to be a weekly occurrence. Nothing worse than an email, Whatsapp, Facebook announcement or telephone call to tell you of someone who impacted directly on your life, passing. This encourages you to reflect on your own life, importantly not just the past, but what the future will bring. I suppose you have a number of options. First, get depressed and curl into your shell becoming a burden to your partner, family or in extreme instances your carer. Secondly, plod on ticking off the days in varied spirits, some days good, some days bad but not looking forward to anything in particular. Thirdly, not necessarily the only remaining scenario, look forward to each day and plan for a future no matter how long that may be. I dreaded retirement, but due to ill health had to do so at the age of seventy-one. Although I had become a lot less active in work for a couple of years, full retirement was a major change. Since being diagnosed with prostate cancer and diabetes five years ago, health has been a challenge. Following treatment for this cancer, I had to try and get fit and lose weight. I achieved this, not realising my weight loss was due partly to the second bout of unrelated cancer, a large tumour in my intestines eating most of my nutrition and depleting the little energy I had. Dealing with this problem has kept both myself and Rozanne busy, especially Rozanne. What I am saying is that it kept me focused on doing something. Those loose unproductive hours have to a greater extent not materialised. First getting my heart right, then removal of the tumour with follow-ups on both. For the time being, to a greater extent, all of this is behind me, so what is next? I say this as I seem to fall into the third category, always looking for something to do. Even if it is only a day's fishing or trying a new restaurant. New people are not as exciting as they used to be as we have heard it all before. There is always the exception to this, which occasionally makes you listen in wonder about their life’s exploits or adventures. I always come across someone who has an extraordinary experience or experiences in life far outweighing my own. Often, I find these people are shy, they require time and patience in teasing out details. For me, my only real bucket list remaining is catching a marlin. I have dreamed of catching a marlin for the past twenty years and with the exception of the past two years have gone in search of achieving this. I have hooked one for a few seconds but never ‘caught’.
With my vaccination passport to hand, we have now started to put dates together for a couple of trips to Africa. Rozanne still has a house in Harare, which has become a burden to manage. Our original plan was to spend 6 months in Portugal and six months in Africa using that house as a base. Unfortunately, my health coupled with the pandemic has put paid to this plan. The cost of health insurance has also become prohibitive and only acceptable for short trips, beyond our reach financially on a full-time basis. We decided to sell Rozanne’s house, and with an offer, will travel to complete the sale next month. We had planned to travel to Africa to visit friends later in the year and still plan to do so. This has sorted out the rest of this year's events, three of the remaining five months of this year to be in Africa. Next year, to visit two of our three kids and family in the UK early in the new year followed up with the youngest daughter getting married in Texas mid-year takes us through to a year from now. Hopefully, bass and sea fishing in America. How much further ahead should I plan? Yes, there will be challenges in fitting all this in, but planning is interesting. My biggest worry is who will take care of the garden? I know Rozanne will take care of me in my travels, including reeling in that elusive marlin. She has a way of catching the best fish!
“Many of my happiest days have come about due to a spontaneous event or decision. Do not be scared to make spontaneous decisions. Logic can often overcome the spontaneity of the event coupled with the joy it can bring. It is good to ignore logic from time to time.” - Peter McSporran
Spontaneity should never leave your life. This week we visited friends in the Algarve and met Scott and Michelle Von Memerty for lunch in Southern Spain. Home today, maybe a spot of fishing at the weekend. Do not sit and let your mind drag you down into a long lost past. Phew, it was 38°C.
A Sojourn to England
On completing my exams and following my NDA orals, I headed to Norfolk with Bill Walker, a friend from college who had studied Engineering. Bill was an avid rugby player, for the pleasure of it, he was even more uncoordinated than myself. That is saying something from a man who drove his drill sergeant to despair, much to the amusement of his fellow course members at the School of Infantry. Bill’s lack of coordination did not dampen his appetite for the game. That was the joy of rugby in those days, amateur, just following the ball around the pitch was seen to be doing something. If you became tired, get one of your mates to kick the ball out or knock it on. Anyway, Bill had a cousin who was a very progressive farmer in Norfolk and the Chairman of a local rugby club, North Walsham. Bill said Paddy Walker would be happy to take me on while I made up my mind on what to do with my life, more importantly, it would allow me to play rugby while providing me with bed and board. I should mention Paddy was a bachelor, so all catering in his house came from a slow cooker. Ingredients would be thrown into the slow cooker at the end of each meal to ensure food at the next. In saying that, no matter how hard we tried, it always seemed to end up with the same stodgy texture and generic flavour. The only exception were the curries which generally turned out inedible but consumed purely for survival. We cooked the meat, vegetables and starch all at the same time in the same pot. If for some reason we forgot to fill the pot following a meal we would on occasion turn to the pressure cooker. Same ingredients, same result, but much quicker. The one common ingredient to all dishes was tinned tomatoes, the flavour that dominated all meals. While not a gourmet delight, this food proved a healthy diet for farming, rugby and beer drinking. Variation was in the form of the odd pub lunch.
Paddy, my host and employer, had studied agriculture at Reading University. He was both innovative and intelligent. At an early age, he was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes. His family also suffered from this disease so he had made the decision not to have children. His sight was already impaired, as was his beer-drinking habits, never his capability, if, on the odd occasion his self-discipline failed. He, however, was a ferocious prop forward who enjoyed a couple of beers post-match. I visited him not long ago, during “The Beast from the East” with my daughter Janine who lives in Norwich. He is no longer a bachelor having married late in life, but still actively farming. Other than a lad who helps with the beef cattle, no dairy now, all the cropping is done with the aid of contractors. When I visited him, one of those joined us for lunch at a local pub. Mike Mack, a local farmer who also had been in our rugby team way back then.
“You can always remember friends, enemies are more likely to slip from your memory. Normally only the very bad remain, hopefully very few of these.” - Peter McSporrran
I have recently watched Jeremy Clarkson’s farming program ‘Clarkson’s Farm’. Gerald reminded me so much of the farmworkers on Paddy’s farm in Postwick just outside Norwich. It took about a month for me to understand anything they said, especially the older farmhands. My biggest surprise, although it was the 1970’s, was to find some of these people living on fenland still had mud floors in their houses and outside toilets. I had always thought of England as being more advanced in regard to my homeland. Nevertheless, they were a wonderful group of people, real country folk outlook to life, skilled operators with a great sense of humour except for the one tractor driver who took everything very seriously, especially his skill with farm machinery. Do not touch his tractor for any reason even if the boss tells you to do so. We have all met the like. My first few months were working as a general farm labourer helping with haymaking for the dairy and cereal harvest. I also learnt about irrigation. The dairy cattle grazed on fenland in summer with a portable dairy placed there to enable milking. The fixed parlour was too far from the farm steading for the cattle to walk twice a day for milking. Even though the fenland was surrounded by water, the area in summer was very dry. No fences evident, only water channels as barriers. In winter, it is flooded mainly from rain upstream and the water pumped out. In summer, it is pumped back. Imagine me spending summer in a place in Britain that got 1,400mms less annual rainfall than my home on Mull. Yes, a third of Mull's annual rainfall. Gruline, our nearest recording station on Mull shows an average rainfall of just slightly less than two meters. Therefore, in the heat of summer these fen areas, winter flooded land, required irrigation to ensure grass for the dairy cattle. Good experience for my future supervision of the moving of lateral irrigation lines first-hand. It is not an easy job on your own, coupled with it being a double whammy as I have no love for dairying. Paddy meanwhile was supervising the pea harvesting co-op. Paddy managed both the pea harvesting Co-op and sugar beet harvesting Co-op. The viners worked night and day, requiring much attention, with most components being driven by hydraulic pumps. When that tenderometer said the peas were ready for harvest, they had to be harvested right away. Hours could make the difference, days unacceptable.
In the manor house we lived in, we used only six rooms. The kitchen for cooking and eating, the lounge to relax from time to time, two bedrooms, two toilets and dining room. The dining room, the workshop. The dining table is where Paddy repaired the pea viners hydraulic pumps which he was adept at, better than any service provider. The large dining room table and floor was always littered with about twenty hydraulic pumps in various stages of assembly. Carpets are great for soaking up hydraulic fluid.
Paddy was not materialistic with this old house needing much maintenance. As it did not produce money, Paddy decided it would make sense to sell, which he did. With that, we had to move to a farm workers cottage which had been unoccupied for many years. One of the many jobs we had to do in moving was getting rid of the rat shit along with a number of dead rats in the water tank. Admittedly, with the cool weather of Autumn setting in, it was much cosier than the large house. No central heating, large windows, stone floors. Goodness, it was cold.
Every Tuesday night all the young farmers, including myself and Paddy would meet at the pub in South Walsham for a drink. In time, all my friends down there would lose their driving licences as the rules on drinking and driving tightened. While I was there, it was still pretty slack. I would drive an Austen van for work and socialising, but if I had a date, Paddy would lend me his TR5. Hard work but good fun listening to people with a foreign dialect. Most of the farmers spoke no different, just a bit slower. Next week, college results arrive.
Diversification
Up until about 2005, my work was mainly with farmers or one of the commercial banks’ farming clients who were very often in distress requiring new business plans with advice, including supervision to turn their business around into profitability. Not all. More and more commercial farmers, South African, Zimbabwean and Zambian were approaching us to raise money for them. This exposed me to all types of agricultural production, in some instances also processing. It was not always possible to raise the required funds, but when we had success it was a wonderful feeling. Things were about to change, however. I was sitting in the camp in the forest at Sesheke feeling pretty low about the lack of our success in the timber business when I received a call from my partner Paul Cartwright saying the Libyans in the form of their international investment agency Libyan Foreign Investment Company (LAFICO) wanted to talk to us about a job. It was about doing due diligence on land to allow for a large irrigation scheme to start commercial agriculture in Zambia. They had been given our name by the Zambian Investment Centre, us having brought over fifty new investments to the country over the past five years. Everyone in agriculture and banking in Zambia knew of us by this time.
The land on offer to LAFICO was in one of what was deemed identified potential farming blocks. That is land that was identified where integrated farming projects could be set up with title. Very unique in Africa, as I pointed out, title is so important to agricultural investors. The theory was each of these farming blocks would have a couple of large corporate farms, a number of commercial farms, maybe as many as twenty to thirty combined with emerging farmers. Emerging farmers are selected successful smallholder, subsistence farmers presently working on traditional (tribal land) with no security of tenure. This would give them title and a means to raise finance for their operation, eventually becoming viable productive units. In short, to introduce them to commercial farming. The Zambian Government has to be commended for this initiative, but like all agricultural schemes, it had its challenges. The theory was good but the practical implementation was normally beyond the bureaucratic capabilities of the involved Ministries. The first was that the land demarcation was done on a map in the Ministry of Lands by people who knew nothing about farming. In most cases, these areas were well supplied with good soils and good flowing perennial rivers. In contrast to these positive features, the areas also had hills, even mountains, poor soils, poor or no access roads, in conjunction with no electricity. The latter was to be provided at a later date. When? The Ministry demarcation, therefore, took none of this into account, just consistent areas in hectares, some farms allocated only hills or rocky ground, no arable or too small an arable area within their boundaries. Others with good soil but no riparian access to the rivers, some farms even inaccessible due to large rivers and so on.
The Government had allocated LAFICO a large chunk of land in a block in the Serenje area. This district is some four hundred kilometres North of Lusaka off the main Tanzania Road about fifteen kilometres east of the DRC boundary on the Congo Pedicle. Access roads were poor although they existed, it required a bridge over a large river to give access to the larger portion. By this time we had a really good team within ourselves or subcontractors. Peter Sheppard did the water engineering and irrigation, supported by Doug Lawrence on the GSI work. Dr Alouis Hungwe doing the soil classification. Paul Cartwright, my partner, did the modelling and prepared the format of the business plan while I was project lead. I really enjoyed coordinating this type of work in Africa, it always has its challenges but is rewarding when successful. It is like living an agricultural dream on paper. The implementation at a future date is the hard part.
Of course on investigating the LAFICO project, although allocated a huge area, we found the majority of the soil was unsuitable for cultivation, being shallow with many stoney outcrops. The arable that was there was limited and although there was a strong flowing river it would have been difficult to irrigate due to the static head. Just across the river we identified a large chunk of arable land which the Zambian Government for reasons unknown was denied to LAFICO, even following their requests for its use. I have often wondered why, as the same land some 15 years later is now developed. Logistics, markets and irrigation are still a challenge though, all of which with LAFICO money could have been overcome.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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