Following last week's blog, I caught some telephonic and well-deserved criticism from Scott Von Memerty saying that I had bleated on about bitterness too long. Thanks, Scott, point taken.
Despite not living or having a vote in the UK, we are all extremely interested in who will be the successor to Boris. The thing is, despite or perhaps due to his buffoonery, he is a larger-than-life character while those with ambitions to take his place seem a rather insipid lot happy up to now to freeload on his general election victory. The fact that so many feel they can run the country says we either have a lot of good potential leaders or more likely a very large group of self-important chancers who in their mind think they can do better than their elected leader. How many of these individuals would be free of these deadly sins suggested by Mahatma Gandhi?
“Wealth without work, pleasure without conscience, science without humanity, knowledge without character, politics without principle, commerce without morality, worship without sacrifice.”
Few of them I guess, so perhaps this would be a good starting point to begin in assessing them.
Of course, while there is sin there is also some with an inkling of virtue and in a politician, I would include loyalty as a prerequisite, few of the candidates can claim this, empathy, especially towards those that voted for them and practicality. The latter I feel is all important. Unfortunately, practical people rarely have the nature or charisma to win elections. That means we always end up with wonderful bullshitters who have no idea. Even if they wanted to, generally they don’t know what they are talking about, let alone are capable to implement their promises.
This week we took our sixteen-year-old Nissan X-Trail to have its air conditioning unit regassed. This is done by a lovely local mechanic, Celso de Sousa and his wife Paula. Paula is his administrator and assistant mechanic having kept the business going when Celso temporarily lost the use of his hands. Yes, she manually carried out the customers’ repairs under close instruction from Celso. Now that is a partnership.
“True partnerships can gain strength from stress, while weak partnerships fail.” - Peter McSporran
Sorry, that was slightly off the subject, back to practicality. While we waited for the gassing process to take place we were informed it is planned by the EU to make the present coolant gas illegal because of the damage it does to the atmosphere. They even have a cut-off date for the use of these coolant gases. Obviously, the new gases have their problems. Seemingly they are highly flammable, therefore cannot be used in our car's present system. I know nothing about this but seemingly without cut-offs in the air-con system, in the event of an accident they may well explode, not just burn. I decided to look up some information and found this; a perfect example of the lack of practicality amongst politicians and bureaucrats who rarely suffer the daily hardships of those they say they represent.
“It is a shame that the effect of the new provisions on training of installers will be negated by the new set of bans. With hundreds of thousands of technicians needing to be upskilled to safely handle highly flammable refrigerants, the installer base will just not manage to make the conversion in time as there remains a shortage of both training facilities and trainers across the EU.” - Marco Buoni, President of the European association of refrigeration, air conditioning and heat pump contractors (AREA).
I may not be very practical but can supervise those that are, being a farmer and knowing what is required in regard to production. That is what a farmer is; a producer. To make money he has to produce crops and livestock in a viable manner coupled with his practical knowledge. Theory has little place on the farm, only practical implementation. I have been claiming for years the greenies are driving the politicians to implement policies without consideration of the practical or economical implications. One of these is the change from fossil fuels to electric cars. I have not the technical knowledge but quickly looked up a quote from someone who does:
“At the current growth rate, only a quarter of the expected total number of public charging stations will be realised by 2032. The sluggish creation of charging points is partly due to a global shortage of essential EV charger components and also precious metals, such as lithium.” - Dunstan Power, director of EV charging consultancy Versinetic.
In looking this up I also learned we will need nearly 1,200 charging points every 100 km to satisfy demand. My practical mind also conjures up pictures of toiling miners digging up precious minerals for this demand working almost as slaves on behalf of warlords and greedy corporations in the hintermost parts of the world, especially Africa. All at the instigation of the liberal greens with little understanding of the implication of their actions let alone the human and financial cost.
I doubt we will ever get practical leaders. I cannot believe how many want to be chief, so many candidates must surely create divisions in the party as if true to form they will attack each other rather than offer solutions to inflation, the cost of living, the energy crisis, health service and food security. All of these in a quandary created by them over the past ten years. Of course to a man or woman or whatever, “I am not the one.”
“Politicians want the power to make a name for themselves by implementing theoretical change advocated by the vocal few who claim irresponsibly that it is for the good of the world. This has caused many of our present problems. What we need is good practical solutions not theoretical.” - Peter Mcsporran
I better stop here before I get another lecture from Scott.
Stop press! Rozanne made me some traditional Scottish oatcakes this week!
Army Reflections
In the late seventies, because we had so little, we were very happy. I was at my happiest when on the farm in those early years. With the collective fear we could lose it all, it gave us common cause to fight and work for what we had. Truthfully this was a way of life rather than any monetary reward at that time. Over three hundred commercial farmers or members of their families were killed in the liberation war. In our small farming community, three families lost sons in the war doing service. For me, it was a bitter-sweet feeling leaving the army for PATU. Many of my friends had already left the country, a few were killed while the few remaining fought resolutely on with little or no choice if they wished to remain in the country of their birth. Most remaining farmers now joined PATU or if over forty, the Police Reserve becoming the backbone of the defence in the farming areas.
Before moving on to my time farming and in PATU there are a couple of army stories I would like to recount. Two serious ones which set my mind worrying further about the outcome of the war and one funny, especially if you had served.
On the 13th of July 1978, I was on call-up and based at Murehwa in the Operation Hurricane area when we learned about the death of Tim Peech. Tim, while a serving PATU member, was opposed to the Smith regime's policies but loyal to his country. He had been slowly engaging with the CTs in his farming area of Macheke over a period of time trying to get an internal agreement in place rather than that imposed by the outside world. To that end one day he set out, as usual by himself on his own initiative, to meet the group of CTs who on this occasion immediately abducted him and beat him to death.
Being the closest army call sign, we were called out immediately with helicopters. Myself leading a stick in one of the choppers. On approaching the area we had a sighting, possibly the same murderous group, as it was in the vicinity of the incident. I asked to be put down immediately into what would be termed a hot landing. On trying to do so, coming under fire the pilot refused to drop us, only doing so some distance away. Needless to say, they disappeared.
On return to camp a few days later asking about the incident, which was most unusual, I was told it was not about the crew's safety, rather the need to look after the chopper as they were running short. I can only presume this was true although I was later to see choppers going in under much heavier fire. This incident once again raised concerns about how things were going, manpower shortage, now critical equipment shortage. Tim Peech’s brother Chris became a good friend, both enjoying horse racing and a good malt whisky.
The second worrying incident was also sometime around 1978, this time I was leading a platoon working out of Bveke Keep, a protected village, some thirty kilometres Northeast of Mount Darwin where our company headquarters were based. The company was understrength, with my platoon only able to deploy three four-man sticks at any time. One had to be held back as a reaction, while we had two drivers and myself, a sergeant platoon commander. Things were tough and when one of the drivers fell ill, I found I had no option but to drive the 4.5 heavy myself to deploy and pick up the sticks. There were daily sightings including some skirmishes and after Fireforce arrived too late on one occasion, I was bleating, as only I can do, about what the hell was happening at Joint Operational Command (JOC). Action well above my rank.
Within twenty-four hours the JOC commander flew in by chopper for a briefing and I upset him when I said we had almost daily sightings without the capability to engage. Further, the INTAF (Internal Affairs) members guarding the Keep had been seen talking to the CTs, so no doubt the Keep’s environs were being penetrated. I lead him up onto the earthen wall to point out the direction of some of the sightings when a suspicious group of possible CTs came into view. He then accepted the area was to all purposes under CT control, as when radioing for backup he was told Fireforce was engaged somewhere else. As this was a suspicious sighting only we would have never called it in until we had confirmation they were CTs. Strangely over the next few days, we had Fireforce in the area reacting on information unknown, searching two CT camps we had already cleared. Window dressing? We did get another platoon which made life easier.
On an aside, at Bveke, there was a Special Branch (SB) contingent. Most of the SB guys on the ground at this level were black policemen. The man in charge here was outwardly the cheeriest, most good-humoured person you could meet. Always too happy to have a beer with the troops on return to camp and share war stories. He seemed to have no fear either, often leaving camp with only one person as escort. He was also the coldest hardest man I ever met. Any suspect or capture would start talking within a few minutes of spending time with this guy. As those of us know, SB was very secretive about their methods of interrogation, and while I personally never saw them kill anyone, I am sure it was not fun spending time with them.
“Never judge anyone by their demeanour only by their actions.” - Peter McSporran
The final story is more jovial. Once again in Operation Hurricane, this time working out of Bindura into the Tribal Trust Lands in the south including Chinamhora just North of Salisbury, in fact halfway between Bindura and Salisbury. One afternoon we were all called in unexpectedly for a company redeployment. All our pick-up points and timings were agreed upon except for the one stick led by a corporal Charlie Wood. He said, despite giving his location a few kilometres from his pick-up spot he would only be able to make it in three or four hours. A rat was immediately suspected and on investigation, he and his stick were found to be in Salisbury enjoying the bright lights. Most deployments were for five or six days minimum and Charlie had convinced his stick to take the risk immediately after deployment and head for town on a rural bus. He had been sending fake daily sitreps, how he did this I am not sure, as he would have been out of radio range, perhaps through relay. He had done something we all had dreamed of doing but had not the balls to do. I wonder if he enjoyed his punishment? I doubt it.
Last I saw of Charlie was about ten years ago when he was running the Mabelreign Sports Club in Harare. At that time he had become a stateless person unable to obtain a passport.
Iringa
From Morogoro, we set off for Iringa passing through the Mikumi National Park where elephant, buffalo, giraffe and plains antelope were seen in abundance. On future trips, I also saw lion on the main road as we passed through the park. Shortly after commencing the climb up into the hills, we stopped at a bus station for food and refreshments. I always considered Zimbabwean bus drivers the most dangerous, but on moving to Zambia, voted them to the top. However, neither of them compared to the reckless speed and driving of the Tanzanian drivers on that escarpment from Dar-es-Salaam to either Mbeya or Songea.
Meanwhile, at the bus station, we found the toilets unusable. I have used many toilets in Africa most would have deemed unusable but these were really unusable. Further, the chicken offered made it impossible to differentiate between bone and meat. Village chicken gotchered to an inedible state to anyone without steel teeth. We found on the road in Tanzania local taverns were inclined to overcook all meats, normally goat or chicken. That is, until frazzled removing all taste or texture. Maybe we were only meant to lick the bones? In future, we would learn to stop at the Tan Swiss Lodge in Mikumi where you could get a decent meal and a clean bed.
The drive into the Southern Highlands along the Great Ruaha River Valley is spectacular. I have never seen so many baobabs in Africa as on that route. For many kilometres, the road follows the course of the river from the plains at 550 metres elevation to Iringa at 1,650 metres. Of interest, as we got closer to Iringa we could see a lot of smallholders growing irrigated onions, garlic and potatoes. Both the red onions and garlic were to prove both cheap and delicious. After attending various offices in Iringa we made the second culinary mistake of the trip. Under the guidance of Joel Strauss, who informed us that he knew where the best samosas could be found in Tanzania right there in Iringa despite our scepticism. If I remember correctly Han and Andrew were the most badly affected by the stomach complaints that swiftly followed consumption. Little wonder the only real competition for the food was offered by the swarms of flies. Tanzania was to prove a leader in meal time flies. That night luckily we stayed at The Old Farm House at Kisolanza, luxury with gourmet food.
Next week, an introduction to three successful farmers in the Iringa district.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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