I spend more time worrying about what I will write in my blog for the week at night than my health. Luckily I am able to accept that there is no point in worrying about something you cannot do anything about admittedly only learning this recently. With the required tests behind me, I now wait for my review with the surgeon on Wednesday, by the time I post this on Friday I should know my status, be it a relief or a concern. I have managed to start writing this on Wednesday afternoon although I have spent time in preparation for this blog going through photos of around the time of my first marriage. I have to thank Diane for the scanned photos she has provided as I have very few pictures of our early years together other than those spent on Lake Kariba or when the kids were very young. I must say it is quite nostalgic when you look at photos of your younger days, even emotional when I look at my children which makes me reflect on my time with them. I know I had a busy life away from the farm from their teens onwards. Could or should I have spent more time with them or more importantly would they have wanted to spend more time with me? I regrettably feel I should have despite teenagers having a different set of priorities to their parents. I have to admit a certain amount of guilt which may be brought about by ageing nostalgia.
I have watched flashes of the Platinum Jubilee celebrations which set me to direct my thoughts on the Royal Family. My parents' generation I feel, probably due to the national feeling following WWII, felt a greater kinship for them than ours did and certainly more than the present youth. I think what I admire about the Royal household, despite its squabbles and scandals, is its continuity and more especially the calm the queen displays when all around her people seem to be going mad. Should I quote Rudyard Kipling here? Her family is bad enough but pales into insignificance in stupidity when compared to those politicians who seem to have floated to the top of the midden, mostly through ego rather than talent. Boris survives again, you cannot fault his tenacity even if you doubt his ability and questionable ethics.
“To be a successful politician you have to be a great believer in yourself even although this may be seen by others as disillusionment and pure vanity.” - Peter McSporran
On Monday we decided to attend the closing of a local ‘Festa’ (festival) in our neighbouring village Santo Amaro some 2 kilometres from us where one of our favourite restaurants and meeting place is. We old farts meet there on a Thursday evening to discuss our latest ailments and the prowess of our long-gone youth. Yes, our glory days. The Fetsas typically start on a Friday and finish on a Monday evening, much more sensible than us northern Europeans who restrict most of our revelry to the strict confines of the weekend. They also continue night and day, rain or shine within that period periodically letting off fireworks in case the drums and music are not loud enough to keep you awake. The final evening they had some traditional games for entertainment which included the ladies running with clay pots full of water balanced on their heads. The course; three times around the local church, I am sure our ladies from Africa would have wiped the board with a twenty-litre drum on their heads spilling less. I could never figure how they could move their bodies from the waist down while the top half remained stable enough ne’er to spill a drop. The other event of interest was an exciting version of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. In this Portuguese version, the participant is blindfolded, provided with a wooden staff and after being spun in a circle a number of times is given the task of hitting a suspended terracotta pot filled with water some 10 metres away. Directions are given by the local children, more often than not contradictory. Once the participant thinks he/she is within striking distance of the suspended pot, he/she tries to smash it. You only get one strike. If you miss you are deemed to have lost and you remain dry and unharmed. If you hit it at best you will get wet and at worst struck on the head sometimes with an intact pot. As it is traditional, there must have been many injuries before the introduction of hard hats. Adults and children are eligible, no doubt in northern Europe health and safety regulations would ban the practice or introduce plastic bags to replace the terracotta pots.
“How often in life when you think you have won, you have actually lost.” - Peter McSporran
The evening culminated in a cook-up of fresh sardines on braais. Copious amounts of free fish served with fresh brown bread unfortunately without utensils. Hot work for your fingers along with smelly clothes from the braai requiring a shower on returning home. The smoke of braaied fish is not quite as pleasant an odour as braaied meat especially when charred.
On Tuesday we went to the town of Granja which is about 140 kilometres north of us on the Atlantic Coast to see an old friend from Beira. Maria Sara Lomba de Lorena Birne de Castro Fernandes, how is that for a name? She is a widow of an old friend of my late father-in-law Bob Cary and Shirley from Bob’s Gwebi College days where he attended a short course. Short as he was asked to leave early as he thought he knew much more than the lecturers. I presume they wondered what he was doing there wasting their time if he knew it all?
Every time I meet old Portuguese Mozambicans it always reminds me of how the colonial powers just dumped their colonial subjects for political expediency. At independence in Mozambique, a law was passed by the ruling party FRELIMO ordering the Portuguese to leave the country within 24 hours with only 20 kilograms (44 pounds) of luggage. Unable to salvage any of their assets, most returned to Portugal penniless. Much the same happened in the other Portuguese colonies.
Before moving into the next section I must report my medical tests show I am still clear of cancer. As the surgeon says he cannot say cured, but at present, there are no markers or scan indications of cancer being present in my body. In reality, it is as cured as you can be, they are just cautious in what they say. Good news.
An old friend Nick home also contacted me. Nick is doing an 800-kilometre walk around Kariba to raise money for conservation and mental health awareness. Please have a look at his site. https://www.zambesia.com/w4life/
Just Married and Future Plans
In life it seems every action has a consequence, most with little impact unfortunately not all. My future father-in-law Derek Belinksy found himself being called-up over the date set for our marriage. Men who had done territorial training and were over the age of 38 were called up for this unit, known as ‘Dad's Army’, the Rhodesian Defence Unit (RDU) carrying out guard and convoy escort duties including farmstead security. His manager at the time was Patrick (Pat) Smythe, also required to do service in the Rhodesian Holding Unit (RHU) which was a unit made up of people deemed as of ‘mixed race and Asians’. These two units would merge into one as the war progressed. Between them, it was decided Pat and Derek would swap call-up duty dates, allowing Derek to get a deferment on our wedding day. Unfortunately, a few days before our wedding day, Pat and four of his fellow soldiers were killed when their camp came under attack in Kanyemba. Of course, it had an effect on his whole family and it was really sad that he left a young widow and family behind. For us, a sad memory in what was meant to be a time of personal celebration.
"War is indiscriminate. The innocent unfortunately suffer more than most, with no say in their or their loved ones' circumstance brought about by the political ambitions of others. Just look at who the majority of the victims are in Ukraine." - Peter McSporran
My marriage took place on a warm September afternoon at Arden Estates attended by about two hundred guests as I said earlier, mostly farmers. My skin was as bright as the sunshine as at my stag party I had been covered in Trodax, a fluke remedy with a bright permanent yellow dye as a carrier marker. The day was a success with Diane and I heading to Durban for our honeymoon on an Air Rhodesia package staying at the recently built Maribou Hotel. Unfortunately, as we boarded the plane my stomach, used to army ration packs, gave out, no doubt due to the rich food and exotic alcohol I had eaten and drunk at my own wedding. Durban tourism was built on people coming from the Highveld (mining cities) in summer so in September the place was very quiet. Needless to say, I was to be exposed to Apartheid for the first time realising what we had in Rhodesia was nowhere as robust or similar to what was happening in South Africa. Unfortunately, all of us from Southern Africa were tarred by the same brush and to this day I get slightly narked when I tell people I lived in Zimbabwe when they retort, “Oh, that is South Africa isn't it?”
An enjoyable ten days before returning to the farm where my new wife transformed my bachelor farm dwelling into a comfortable married home. No easy task, one of the first changes was my cook who I deemed reliable but Diane considered unwashed and a thief. It was both our ambition to have a farm of our own, therefore it was agreed Diane would continue working in Salisbury leaving early each morning ensuring she returned by dark each evening. One of the first things was to obtain a weapon for her which we did, a Taurus 38 revolver from Tatos Brothers. For myself, I had my army rifle but decided for town trips a pistol would be more suitable and I procured a Walther 9mm from Feredays. We also had shotguns for vermin and wild pig control. Every white man and woman living in rural areas were armed, excluding missionaries. For Diane, it was a 40-kilometre trip morning and evening working for Fencing Services. By that time fencing manufacturers and fence erectors were making a fortune as the Government offered subsidies for security fencing around farm homesteads and buildings while all Government offices were similarly being fenced for protection of life, not theft. The real money maker for these companies were contracts to fence protected villages (PVs) with each one requiring many kilometres. Diane had recently done an executive secretarial course and enjoyed the trust of her employees.
At the time of our wedding Kissinger, his name makes my blood boil to this day, hatched a plan with South Africa which would throw us Rhodesians to the wolves, offering South Africa some respite. As we all knew it would only be temporary as all the assurances and promises, including land and property rights fell by the wayside in future with the so-called enshrined clauses soon falling away in ten years from the time the Lancaster House Agreement was signed, which paved the way for independence in 1980. To secure Smith’s agreement, South Africa withdrew it’s forces in Zimbabwe and applied the screw in many ways, some unseen, including threats to withdraw military and economic support. All in the belief it would secure South Africa’s own future, or at least give it some ‘breathing space’; this, the expression used in the talks. To this day some of us still believe politicians! Meanwhile, although harbouring the so-called freedom fighters, Mozambique was still allowing Rhodesian imports and exports through their ports. They needed the money despite breaking sanctions. Therefore, to tighten the screws even further, the West, including the United States of America, offered Mozambique huge cash incentives as compensation for closing the ports to Rhodesia leaving South Africa with the power to insist on Rhodesia coming to a negotiating table. Of course, that money would never reach the people, only the politically connected few.
“In this world of ‘good governance’ any form of bribery, no matter how small, is considered corrupt and illegal. Despite this, it occurs on a grand scale when used in coercing parties or even nations to accept something unpalatable or of little benefit to themselves. Sometimes, it is in fact obviously detrimental.” - Peter McSporran
These diplomatic events surely offered huge incentives for the leaders of the independence struggle to up the ante, not just against the Rhodesian regime but to try and show superiority over the other groups involved adding to the tempo of the war as the road map for independence was now being drafted on the basis of that said September agreement between Vorster and Kissinger. Naturally, all would be feeding from the same cash trough provided by the so-called high-profile peace negotiators. No matter how many pretty girls Kissinger had around him, in my eyes, he was a frog.
“Money not only seals deals, it makes friends, neither are sincere.” - Peter McSporran
My personal and the country's future changed that month, mine through marriage and the country's through political conniving which suddenly escalated the war into greater ferocity. In saying that, having both the West and the communist block against us, we Rhodesians were seen now as pariahs, a danger to East/West detente. The writing was on the wall, all that remained was senseless death while the parties tried to come to some agreement. More white people were leaving, the war became even more ferocious and was to continue for another four years until 1980.
"It is always easier to make agreements for others than oneself. No matter the substance or outcome you can claim the credit.” - Peter McSporran
World Bank Ghana Workshop
In 2010 Chris Isaac and myself were part of a World Bank Mission to Ghana. Chris, like me, is one of the founding Directors of AgDevCo and he remains its Investment Director, being a stalwart of that organisation since its inception.
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Ghana was not new to me nor West Africa although I was once again struck by the number of people in the cities and the amount of informal commerce. I had previously done some work for the Libyans in Ghana on a mango project. I should make it clear, I knew and still know little about mangoes but my role had been more to identify the production problems and the reasons for the poor results; an African-based practical eye as opposed to a consultant from Europe, in that case, Germany.
The World Bank Mission was to undertake extensive discussions with stakeholders to identify critical policy issues regarding commercial agriculture and in particular the constraints to increasing investment in commercial agriculture and agribusiness.
For me, I really enjoyed mixing with senior fieldmen of the World Bank from all corners of the earth. Many had nothing to do with agriculture and were involved in huge infrastructure projects in Eastern Europe and Asia. I was truly out of my depth except in my ability to tell them what was required for successful agriculture and the need for patience to develop success in agriculture. Throughout Africa, once again repeating myself, Governments and the funding sponsors all declare their desire to develop commercial agriculture voicing that they will be happy to implement and enable the policies required. In Africa, while agricultural enabling policies are helpful, if they are not enacted on the ground they mean little. Always the biggest challenge is land ownership, maybe I should just say land, as it is an extremely sensitive subject which enables the majority of the African population, a place of refuge and sustenance in times of hardship including retirement and unemployment. In simple terms, for change to take place and for commercial agriculture to thrive, the changes required carry too much political risk, therefore despite these words, there rarely is any political will beyond the few enlightened individuals that see subsistence farming, especially in light of climate change as no longer sustainable.
I had done work for World Bank-sponsored projects and the one message I got from many of the delegates was; do not lower your consultancy charges, as that will set your future charge-out to the World Bank forever. I learned a number of things on that trip, that one I vowed not to forget and on occasion was to lose work based on me sticking to my set charges. I will reveal some of the other things I learned next week including my view that Hollanders are good traders.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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