Respect
Standing in the queue for blood samples to be taken, it struck me how orderly the queue was. The Portuguese by nature seem to be very polite, they show each other a lot more respect than I have ever encountered in Africa. The African culture used to dictate respect to their elders but unfortunately, this has eroded. In certain instances, it is to the good. A whole subject on its own, with many pitfalls offering contradictions. My British and other foreign friends sometimes declare the opposite, these being a tiny minority, so despite political correctness, I will ignore them. If I compare the manners of the waiters, oftentimes the owner is the waiter here in Portugal, it is superior to anywhere else in the world I have visited. The restaurants around here cannot do more to please the patrons* they are serving. Even the fast-food counter salespeople show patience and good manners.
“Why do people providing service seem to neglect the importance of and the relationship necessity in remaining employed is how they treat their patrons*? Is it the modern employment rules? A job is considered a right as opposed to an essential necessity related to personal performance.” - Peter McSporran
Perhaps this is why the Portuguese are so much more welcoming than most European countries, as they appear tolerant to our ignorance especially with respect to the language barrier. Often, those who are abrupt once you get to know them are due to their own embarrassment for being unable to speak our language, rather than our inability to speak theirs. Overall there is a general awareness to respect all people.
“Why do we British speak of locals as foreigners in their own country no matter where we are in the world?” - Peter McSporran
This made me think of some action groups who seem to demand so much media airtime on television due to their action. In nearly every instance, showing neither respect nor tolerance to others views. Do they not understand that respect is not found by bullying and intimidation? Only abhorrence. Unfortunately, some of their causes, especially with regard to conservation and climate, may have found some sympathy with me. I am concerned about these as we mostly are. Their behaviour however does the very opposite. I find I have lost any empathy toward them, so their action becomes detrimental to their cause.
Part of showing respect is listening to others' opinions. These same protestors deem our old values as being wrong, in fact often harmful. I believe this is not true. Some maybe, we can agree, but I actually think it is the erosion of these values that is leading to a dangerous situation in all of our behaviour. I cringe when I see a dishevelled dervish shouting at a diner or passerby for not showing sympathy or taking action in support of their cause. Here in Portugal they still highly regard family values. The old get respect from the young. The young receive attention from all, just watch when a young child enters a public function.
“If you do not show others respect, do not expect to receive respect or empathy for yourself or your cause'' - Peter MacSporran
What am I trying to say? I am saying this new form of so-called “wokeness” is really almost a form of fascism mostly instigated by the left rather than the right in my view. They seem to be crazy in both their agendas and behaviour toward others. I think few can argue that their tactics are the worst form of bullying, the very behaviour they decry. Now, that is another real concern, there is nothing worse than a bully who does not recognise that he/she in fact is a bully in the form of the action or behaviour they participate in.
Positive Medical Report
I visited my cardiologist on Thursday and he tells me he sees a vast improvement. My indicator numbers have dropped to 4x safe levels from 10x. My heart will never fully recover and he informed me that alcohol and smoking need to be cut out totally in future. He tells me with a corrective arrhythmic heart for four hours after partaking in alcohol it increases the chance of reversal by more than double. He further told me I had been extremely ill and have done remarkably well. The cancer had been closing down all my organs. My remarkable weight loss was due more to cancer than my diet. I had guessed that. He informs me I can travel so hopefully we will get to Africa later in the year Covid-19 permitting. I long for a few days of African fishing.
He also took me through the result of my scan, the surgeon saying that he would not contact me unless it indicated a problem. I had not heard from him, so presumed there was nothing untoward. The stomach scan showed up cancer-free and the CT scans on the rest of my body were favourable. There are some issues but not considered serious, unrelated to the cancer. Presently no further treatment is required for the cancer or my heart although I continue on medication for the latter. I will break the rules to have a wee dram and a beer with the boys from time to time. My intelligence, good looks and wit would disappear with lack of alcohol, so I owe it to my friends.
Moray Estates, Doune
Mike and I soon settled into our lodgings at East Brae. I previously mentioned George and his wife of East Brae Farm by first name only. Now reviewing a text from Mike he reminded me their surname was Bell. I am angry with myself for not remembering the lady of the house. The Bells were a happy couple with a grown daughter who often visited. Mrs Bell was large, even rotund and very jolly. George was more serious, thin as a stick. I was saddened to read that in 1980 they gave up their tenancy due to lack of viability. I am afraid the times overtook conservative George. The farm stood at the top of a brae which was used as the Doune Hill Climb track. This was a race from one of the estate farms on the Carse of Cambus up a steep hill with many curves against the clock. Mike and I were real experts as we travelled up and down the track every day on tractors to and from work. We were obviously slower than the present 34-second record for the 1350 metre climb. Incidentally, we would witness the finish from the farmhouse. To be honest I found it boring after a while. I am no fan of dragsters either. I prefer races against active participants rather than against a clock.
While we were there, that same year Lord Moray opened a vintage car museum housing his private collection for the public to see. Subsequently, in later years an antique centre opened Scottish Antiques & Arts Centre, where coincidently my sister and her partner have a stall. You may see him from time to time on The Antiques Roadshow, his name being Gordon Foster. I have mentioned this in an earlier posting in life. These coincidences do pop up.
Lord Moray has extensive land holdings up at Forres where they grow cereals and run a beef herd. At Doune when we were there, they grew cereal in the form of barley, lots of silage for a beef herd which was housed in winter. They had a piggery, while sheep were reared both on the hill farms and lower ground.
Remember in those days the environment was not given the attention it gets now. I know what things were like then, and they are nowhere near how they are today. Most landowners now respect and protect the environment with laws to enforce its preservation if so needed. Back then the dry sow house was next to the river which ran by the main estate buildings while the cattle housing was on a steep slope. The sow manure was flushed out by water into the drains leading to the river while the cow manure was pushed out mechanically down the hillside where the rain washed it into the river systems, rather than onto the land where it would have done some good. The main pig unit was better, with a midden for the farrowing house waste and slurry tanks for the fattening pigs. The fattening pigs, however, were kept in darkened houses receiving light only at feeding time. When Mike or I relieved the pigman on his off days we would stink. Even our breath smelled of pig manure from feeding in the humid, airless darkened housing. Do not even think about how blasé we were about pesticides!
I recall spraying pesticides at home and on the farms where I worked without protective clothing. We even hand dusted stored potatoes with Dichlorodiphenyltrichloroethane (DDT) which we applied by bare hands out a large cardboard drum. When castrating and docking lambs’ tails we would rub Aldrin or Dieldren oil on with our bare hands to protect their wounds against maggot flies. Aldrin and Dieldrin were only banned in the UK completely by 1978 while DDT was banned later in 1986, well after us in Zimbabwe. When I was young, we uncaringly dunked sheep's heads under the organophosphate-based sheep dip also with our unprotected hands and bodies ending after each day's dipping soaked from head to toe in the chemical.
Once Mike moved down from his banishment in the hills, at the completion of lambing we generally worked together. Mostly tractor work when it was dry enough. Some jobs had to be carried out come rain or shine, these included slurry spreading from the pig houses, and stock feed delivery to the cattle unit up the hills. Showers or gentle drizzles were not counted as “rain”, so many a day we and the weather were wet and cold. I fondly recollect each morning Mrs Bell would prepare us a hearty farmhouse breakfast before leaving early in the morning to work.
She would send us off with our morning, lunch and afternoon “pieces” along with tea in a thermos flask. Morning and afternoon tea consisted of jam sandwiches, better known as “Jeely Pieces” while lunchtime would have some form of chicken, ham, meat spread or tinned fish. They were so good, who worried about a few chicken feathers in a delicious farmyard reared chicken sandwich? Never lettuce or tomato included. This high carb diet kept us going till our tea (supper) in the evening, before returning to the field until sundown or after.
The team we worked with at Doune were a great bunch of characters all with some good and bad traits. The head tractor driver, Sandy, whom I have mentioned before came from the estate up in Morayshire. He was capable when sober, but weekend overtime work was risky alongside him. One Sunday combining barley, Mike and I with chaser bins suddenly heard loud noises emitting from the combine, Sandy was unfortunately driving. Instead of stopping, Sandy continued around the field to our position. By then, the fingers on the feeder drum had turned it into a sieve. Mike described it as looking like it had just come from Beirut. Searching for lost baler parts was another common occupation. If we stripped a baler to repair it in the field over the weekend, parts were always short.
Sandy drove a large four-wheel-drive Ford tractor with new-fangled hydrostatic gears. I suppose it was about 120 HP, small compared to what is around today. Sandy would work long hours in all weather and was very capable most days. His father, who was a semi-retired foreman, previously also from Moray Estates, looked after the cattle on the low Carse of Cambus land. His mother was our first landlady. She was certainly the boss of that household with Sandy and his brother both still living at home.
Sandy’s Assistant Senior Tractor Driver was George. George drove a 188 MF with balloon tyres which used to slide around on the slopes of Doune. Except for some Carse low land, most of the estate was on slopes with many steep fields cultivated which should have been best left to grazing. Side slides with fully loaded grain or silage trailers were common occurrences and with experience, we learned to manage them. We had to, no safety cabs let alone roll bars in those days. A huge amount of silage was made on the estate for sustaining the beef herd in winter. This was supplemented by brewers grains.
George was a very gentle soul with a cheeky wife and two young daughters. His wife would pack a damp face cloth for him to clean his hands and face before eating, a strange phenomenon on a farm in those days. I recall a day he very begrudgingly reported that someone had stolen his wife’s and daughters' knickers from his clothesline. This was a serious incident in his life, he kept referring to the incident for weeks after the event. He may have been scarred for life. Luckily a one-off incident. Mike and I were innocent, but we had our suspicions. We thought it may have been the third orra man, Steve, playing tricks. Steve kept us all amused with his Irish humour. He described Sandy, who was slight, likened to “a flea on a mare's back” on his big blue tractor. As described by Mike, one of the “Heid yins”* and told Steve to go and pick up a fertiliser sack the said gentleman had seen in a field. He immediately told the heid yin, “If you had seen the bag, why hadn't you picked it up yourself?”
The cattleman, name forgotten but an Aberdonian and his son ran the cattle which did tremendously well when out on grass. Mike and I from time to time helped feed and clean the pens when the cattle went out. We considered working with the cattle easier than most of our other tasks. They were Angus or Angus-cross with the prodigy commanding a premium supplying for the restaurant trade south of the border. I presume tough old cows were good enough for the Scots housewife. I also learned here how hard a calving season could be if you over-steamed first calving heifers.
There was a pigman whose name I have also forgotten. He got about his duties quietly and efficiently, assisted by a very old gentleman named Bob who aided in cleaning the farrowing houses. I would have said a bad choice, as Bob always had disgusting discharges hanging from his nose and ears. He was both dirtier and smellier than the animals he mucked out. I do not think he washed and we felt sorry for the young shepherd who shared the same bothy. I am sure if Mike and I had been asked to live in the bothy, we would have absconded immediately. When we were not working on weekends, Mike and I would attend Young Farmers dances in Central Scotland along with the occasional disco at Dunblane Hydro on a Sunday night. By this time, Mike had acquired a Volkswagen Beetle, so from being a good chap he became a very, very good chap in my eyes.
The year we were there, the harvest season was even wetter than normal. I remember thinking there can be no profit in this with much of the barley on the ground and sprouting. After harvest, the grain was stored in a wet bin. We left late September back for Auchincruive with the harvest not complete but having gained much experience.
Lease Agreements, Customs and Currency Headaches
As I stated last week, once we identified farms for our resettlement schemes, we had to go about negotiating the leases. Many of the farms in question were so derelict the leases would need to include improvement clauses which meant until the new improvements were written down, this would be part of the lease. Notwithstanding that, the owners always wanted some cash. These building leases were complicated. Firstly, convincing the owners, the lessors, that the lessees could not pay a full lease and improve the farm. They were in a hard place at that time as the farms were already derelict, but as all land was on a 99-year lease from the state, land dues were required to be paid or they would or could lose the farm. This sort of arrangement also had tax complications, the lessors getting income through the improvements, but no cash, the lessees having costs and trouble claiming the improvements of their tax as they were on a “third party's” land. All very complicated, but resolved with the Zambia Revenue Authority.
Once the lease was agreed, the equipment could be shipped. More problems. There was dispensation and tax relief on agricultural equipment, interestingly not on steel, roofing sheets, fans and electric motors, all part of modern tobacco curing equipment. We finally got agreement on these items being included as agricultural equipment. The tractors, machinery and curing equipment started to move, then halfway through, a new problem. Shipments were not coming as one delivery on a single truck, so if the manifest said curing equipment, no problem. But if split, any roofing and steel girders were on a separate truck they would reclassify this. As many farmers had commenced preparation for planting in 2002 they had to pay hoping to recover the import duty, taxes, including VAT later. When does that happen? By the time it was resolved, a number of farmers were prejudiced. The final piece of bad news was the South African Rand. At the time, we started importing our capital goods including tractors. It went from a weak 11 to 1 to the USD to a strong 6 to 1 to the USD. All our loans were in USD and all the equipment was coming from South Africa. Most farmers’ initial capital loans nearly doubled. Only brickwork, cement and labour remained the same as the budget. A hard pill to swallow for all. The lenders could have called a stop to the project or the farmers could have declared it was just not worth it. All agreed to continue, of course, more money lent, more money borrowed. The farmers were the ones to pay dearly leading to a few casualties in the early years. Surprisingly, the success rate was better than expected even with static tobacco prices against rising costs. I should mention all the fertiliser and chemicals also came from South Africa doubling in price. Wow, it was tough.
Meanwhile, more and more banks were calling on for our services. Mostly to restructure their existing loans or due diligence for new loans. So many balls in the air. I suppose when you lose everything you are inclined to become hyperactive in striving to recover so late in life.
*Patron - I refer to a patron here as a regular customer
*Heid yins - Senior Manager
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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