Where the hell does the time go? I try and start writing the following weeks blog every Monday which gives me the weekend to think of some suitable subjects. I generally fail in achieving this as some convenient chore turns up. The time set aside over the weekend for thought on the blog never materialises. Especially with so much rugby on the TV at present, combined with at least one lunch outing. I do not know how I managed to fit everything in a day before I retired. My time management is shot! During my time in consultancy and fund management, more especially in farming, I seemed to achieve so much in a day. Be it fun, work or a combination of both.
“There’s no point in working when you cannot find fun during or after. Achieving can bring happiness, just as a hobby such as fishing. Achievement should be self-measured, not someone else’s goals.” - Peter McSporran
Each day on the farm, I would start setting out the plans normally discussed earlier in the week with the managers, adjusting where necessary. Rain although a blessing, could turn all your planning on its head overnight. Then came organising delivery of crops, including tobacco with all of the paperwork during the selling season plus place orders for the trucks return trip to collect anything such as workshop spares, oils, crop inputs, stockfeeds and veterinary supplies. Then for me, I would check the pigs and discuss their needs with the manager, selecting those for sale that week. Then shower, the pig smell stuck around unless you washed, all right on the farm but in town or the horseraces brought some weird glances! Breakfast, then round the crops reviewing the operations; agronomic, tractor and labour. For me, this meant a visit to a number of farms probably to the dismay of the managers. During tobacco selling season at least one trip a week to the auction floors to observe the sales. If happy with the price, off to celebrate in the bar. If unhappy, off to drown one’s sorrows in the bar.
For four years whilst vice-president and president of the CFU, it meant a drive to town every day after roll-call only returning in the evening. In between office work, ably supported by Diane and Karen Steyn for many years and later, before our farms were appropriated, Josie Marais. Throughout my life, I have had sensible hard-working women to support me, even outside of farming, both in the CFU and AgDevCo. Most male weakness in business is attention to detail. I have no doubt my success was due more to their support than my efforts. Rozanne is a perfect example.
“If you can recognise opportunity along with the ambition to exploit it, you need a strong hand close by to steady the ship at all times on your path to success.” - Peter McSporran
Nowadays my day is taken up by resetting the fire, bringing in wood, emptying the dishwasher if required, some gardening before lunch at a local restaurant as it is cheaper than cooking at home. After lunch a read, gardening and on occasion painting. Since the advent of Covid-19, the Bridge group has died. Afternoon tea, a bit more gardening if required, a chat with the neighbours and the evening is then upon us.
“Gardening simply does not allow one to be mentally old, because too many hopes and dreams are yet to be realized.” - Allan Armitage
The garden needs constant attention even in winter. My neighbour, Pat Holt, informs me it is my hobby, so I enjoy it. It certainly did not start out as such, more of a chore that has turned into something that gives pleasure. The next quote is purely from a male perspective.
“A garden is like a lady. Look after and care for it and it will be a pleasure to behold and enjoy. Treat poorly and neglect it, it will become a wearisome task with little award normally leading to intervention by others.” - Peter McSporran
A spot of blog writing requires little thought, but some application as your boredom will confirm reading this. That is how my day is filled, not very productive I fear. Luckily less hospital visits and doctors, which took up many a day in the past. Although the stomach problem I talked about last week has persisted despite Rozanne feeding me a diet of organic cement in the form of boiled rice, dry toast with either apple or banana. Following an e-mail to the doctor, this weekend I have to take a stool sample each day for delivery to the laboratory on Monday. Wait for it, yes it has to be kept in the fridge until then.
I do sit in the evening sometimes fretting about how little I have achieved thinking of the glory days. In my case, the term glory being used very loosely. In saying that we are so lucky, most days finding something new.
My biggest dissatisfaction about Portugal is that the fishing is so poor compared to Africa, especially Zimbabwe. Even a poor fisherman can catch fish in Africa, not so easy here in Europe. Why do the bass here not grow large? They seem to grow big in cold water in America? It is consolation we can fish at any time though, small fish are better than no fish. I am told by Scott von Memerty you need to do a training course before you can go fishing in Spain. No such frivolities here, just buy a cheap licence for a year and fish anywhere, shore, sea, river. Of course, there are seasons but there is always some species available to catch throughout the year. Only where private owners or clubs stock the water do you have to have a separate licence.
Landmines!
It was with relief, we set off from Pfungwe in January 1973 accompanied by constant rain back to Wankie once again via Salisbury and Bulawayo. This time they were wise enough not to stop in Salisbury, as it would have been difficult for them to leave for Bulawayo with everyone on board the trucks the following day. Arriving in Bulawayo, the troopies were billeted into a disgusting dirty flooded marquee only navigable through six-inch deep mud. Some way to treat your returning soldiers. Once again it took a day to hand in control stores and weapons before setting off on the break.
The next day we took off on five days rest and recuperation, meant to spend time with families and loved ones although the condition most of us returned in, it was obvious the bar took preference.
I should mention here that despite spending most of the time drunk, most of us managed to get our webbing* modified for more comfort. The standard army kit was not ideal for extended patrols. Places like Feredays in Salisbury did a roaring trade as did Bata shoes. Some of the regular army troops had discovered that baseball boots produced by Bata were ideal for the bush being canvas while supporting your ankles. They were white, so had to be dyed black or brown. These were under the brand name ‘Superpro’. Within a few years the army started issuing a similar boot with an extended leg to protect the ankles from thorns and grass seeds, they had smooth soles to reduce spoor. These were called ‘boots clandestine’ becoming one of the more favoured footwear worn in the bush. Frelimo (Mozambican) army boots were also preferred to our own for the same reason. Canvas dried quicker than leather and also when wet, your feet were held firmer. Leather seemed to stretch with rain allowing your feet to slide causing horrendous blisters. Socks were discarded. Even veldskoens were only used in the dry.
Shirts had their sleeves removed then replaced with camouflage tee-shirts and combat trousers were exchanged for shorts. We looked nothing like the soldiers of today. I find it hard to believe any great distance can be undertaken in the tropics under all the present-day kit including the protection. On our head, we wore a cap, called a c”*t cap or a farmers camouflage floppy hat. Of course, the paratroopers wore helmets on drops.
Once again arriving in Wankie we were dispatched to Deka where company headquarters were set up. Shortly after our platoon was deployed near Musuma Mouth, I was called on the radio and told I was taking four other people with me by Land Rover to Brady Barracks in Bulawayo to attend a land mine lifting course at the School of Military Engineering (SME).
“This is typical of the army. Once you just get somewhere you are told to go somewhere else.” - Peter McSporran
No request for volunteers, just orders and as I was the only one with rank, I am sure it was only because I had my military driving licence and therefore reduced the need for a dedicated driver. By the time we arrived at Brady Barracks, it was late in the evening having stopped at both the Gwaii River Hotel and the Halfway House for refreshments. This allowed us enough time to sober up before reaching Bulawayo. Both establishments in those days were very popular hostelries. I passed the Halfway House in December last year, which now looks very run down while the Gwaai River Hotel has been closed for many years, leaving only derelict buildings in its wake. Once on the way back from the northeast, we stopped there overnight camping in the grounds drinking the place dry of beer, spirits and probably ‘meths’.
We had a wonderful five days in Bulawayo with our own transport. For some reason nobody of rank queried our use of the vehicle in the evening, someone must have signed us off but I cannot remember. Just today I was reading an article from an ex-terrritorial with him saying much like me, a good deal of those events have faded into oblivion, only reappearing when unexpectedly nudged by a recall. Mines had become one of the favourite tools of war, used by the CTs. These were used indiscriminately not only against the troops but also civilians. I had on one occasion reacted to a detonated mine bus incident causing terrible carnage. If they attacked, be on a farm, army base or protected village, there, in every likelihood would be a mine or mines planted on the access roads or paths. When we took part in the course, they not only showed us how to lift ordinary mines but also those that are ‘booby trapped’. Certainly, something I did not expect to have to do. In addition, we were taught about anti-personnel mines and trip grenades of various kinds. I do not know how much information I retained, except I had firmly decided if I had to lift a mine, I would be using a grappling hook with a long rope from a distance once uncovered, rather than removing it by hand. Over the war, one way or another I came across a lot of mines as did most of us, luckily on almost every occasion some other poor buggers vehicle was involved. None of these were detected before the explosion, despite the introduction of mine finding vehicles. I suppose they could not be everywhere? The thing we did learn on the mine course was after an attack, the reaction stick should debus and approach by foot in nearing the target looking out for mines or any other explosive device. On our very next trip to the northeast, we were to learn a hard lesson as this was ignored.
The Challenges of Investing in African Agriculture Part IX - Support Required by Investees
When I was thinking about what to talk about in this weeks investment section, I referred back to my friend Erik Wiersma who took over from me as Agricultural Director at AgDevCo. He suggested I should chat about the support an investee requires when an investor comes along. This is in investing circles normally given the name ‘business support’. I have talked about the demands of the investor, of the investee before he can obtain a loan or attract investment. Now, this is a man or woman or a group of people who know, normally, what they can produce well, how to do it and have done so with little administrative knowledge. I am not talking about the entrepreneur with grandeur ideas who has put a concept together looking for finance with all the tools of the trade to hand. I am talking about the grassroots agricultural businesses that have grown successfully into a position where their business can expand but to do so requires funds either in the form of loans, preferably soft and patient, or investment. Most of their balance sheets will not support substantial loans so they have to reluctantly accept new partners in the form of investors. Of course, all have to have at least formed a company. In itself, this can bring challenges as even family member shareholders can hold conflicting views. Loans are easier to understand than investments. Investments come with lots of baggage many that may not appear or be understood to the layman until later on, often only at exit.
“It should be good practice that all investors ensure the investee knows fully the legal implications of, and his obligations within the agreement but also the mechanisms and instruments within the partnership agreement. Telling him does not mean he understands.” - Peter McSporran
Lack of understanding often leaves investees bewildered and regularly feeling cheated which they may well have been if they did not understand the implications of the agreement.
Local lawyers are unlikely to understand a document produced by sophisticated dedicated city lawyers, whose working day revolves around partnership and investment agreements. It may not be in the investees first language, let alone in the law of their country of residence. Further, the investee has to get their business in order, that is, to produce profit and loss accounts that reflect the true profitability of the business along with a verifiable balance sheet with all the governance and licensing requirements in place. With regard to profitability many investees in truth, fudge their capital, working capital and administrative costs allocation. These will all be mixed up and their measure of profitability is the spare cash left at the year-end, which he/she may not reconcile anyway. Even a new piece of equipment may be deemed part of the profit.
They will also have no idea what their personal living costs are. They may not recognise that their fuel for personal use, the stock feed for his or her’s partner’s sheep, chickens or horses, all of which is not a legitimate cost as are their children's school fees. You may say these are trivial but surprisingly they can add up and become substantial. First thing in a partnership; your money is no longer for your sole use, many find this hard to understand. The gist of all this is the new investee requires a large amount of business support, probably restructuring and in doing so can incur a lot of costs without guarantee of a loan or attracting an investor. Who should support and pay for this? The investee, while the opportunity is attractive to both investor or lender, may be reluctant or unable to pay for these substantial costs. Especially without a guaranteed positive outcome nor perhaps can they afford it.
I, therefore, suggest that any development funding, commercial in any way with monetary, legal obligations or share transfers involved, ensure that there is grant money set aside for business support. These small businesses, many may be informal, are the main employers and producers in Africa. Would it not be better for NGOs and charities to set up funding channels for this rather than social handouts of perishables that are not sustainable. Of course, more often those attract little accountability in their use. When a funding program is finished they walk away. Africa is littered with the remains of good intentions. Yes, it would be much harder to carry out this function than unencumbered giveaways, but without this sort of intervention, the commercial development funders will find a dearth of opportunity to everyone's long term loss.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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