So there I was after a clean bill of health last week. I then immediately get reminded that a clean bill of health for me is not what it used to be before my illnesses. Of course, I am aware of this, every time I talk to the surgeon, I tell him my bathroom habits have changed since he went delving around in my stomach. He answers with a smile saying it is to be expected. Unfortunately, since being in Africa, I seem to have also caught a stomach bug causing me to have to frequent the toilet. It came about when I was viewing The Falls, as mentioned in a previous blog.
My family think it is something in my diet that is now a problem that was not an issue before my illness. Further, I had been advised both by my surgeon and cardiologist that I should not touch alcohol. I have been having the odd drink, especially on holiday but very restricted. More than two now affects me, raising both my pulse rate and causing nausea in the night. Two times I have broken the rule, both times in the company of my friend John Tidy, although I cannot pass any blame onto him. Both times it involved whisky. This latest event was just this past Sunday, where at lunch with him and his good wife Magaret, I started with a beer and then some wine. My stomach was not comfortable anyway, so why not try a spot of alcohol? Rozanne likes an Aguardente with her coffee, so stupidly I decided to join her. On returning home, Margaret was the designated driver, they decided to have a “quick” drink with us. Two McSporran type shots of whisky before they left, still all is well. By 10 O'clock my stomach was on fire and my pulse rate doubled. A bad night led to reflection and a fresh look at both my specialists’ advice not to drink any alcohol! It took a full twenty-four hours for my pulse to return to normal. It looks that in future at most only two drinks on any given day.
Over the years as many know I have had a close relationship with alcohol. I have found I am much more eloquent with a few drinks under my belt, much more amusing, many friends, some only acquired that day at the bar. I become handsome and women generally become much more attractive. All misconceptions. What the truth is, I talk more shit, many of the people I met in a bar, I would have not given the time of day sober, I am an ugly bugger no matter what I drink and women are generally attractive anyway. Too scared to say anything else.
“Alcohol is like a loan shark. Once you borrow or drink beyond your capacity, you are locked in. Needless to say, both have serious consequences.” - Peter McSporran
I am not against drinking, it has brought about many adventures that I would not have attempted sober and cemented great friendships. There is nothing like a good malt or wine to consolidate friendship.
The Red Lion members bar at Harare Sports Club was a favourite haunt for farmers when in town. Cheap food and cheap beer. Lunches were always extended as it was a favourite place for country dwellers from near and far to congregate. You would be sure always to find an old army mate or farming friend there. Those “townies” that provided services to farmers also used it as a lunchtime business centre. From boilermaker, mechanic, fertiliser rep, banker, stockbroker to the transporter, they would always be one there. I cannot mention the Red Lion without mentioning the late Brian Wishart. Brian was probably about six foot four, or taller, with a heart to suit his build. He knew everyone and ran his business from this bar from opening time every day. In fact, his business card had the Red Lion as his office number. Brian was a lease hire agent supplying finance mainly to farmers. If he knew you, a deal could be done at his office, the bar, within the hour. He had a brain like an encyclopedia, no need for him to do a KYC (know your client) he knew everyone and their financial status. He was UDC Holdings top agent for many years. Few of his customers ever defaulted. Sadly, he died in a car crash.
I enjoyed my drinking days, I met many friends, had some wonderful adventures and great food even when it was mediocre. Despite the fun, in reflection, it had a very negative effect on my family, probably limited my achievements and made me poorer. ‘Pissing your cash down a drain’ is an appropriate analogy.
“Alcohol is a theft of time. You go in for a quick drink and suddenly a couple of hours later looking at your watch you say, “where has the time gone?” - Peter McSporran
On re-reading this it sounds like a requiem to my drinking days which it is not meant to be.
Just had the all-clear from the cardiologist yesterday, Thursday. No more pre-scheduled visits.
Don't Eat The Cheese!
I thought this week I would write a little bit of how it was in the bush during National Service and call-ups. The nine weeks we did over the Christmas of 1973 taught the army a lesson. It is not wise to extend active duty in the African bush by more than eight weeks without a break. In fact, when the war became much more intense the ‘stints’, as we called them, lasted between six and seven weeks before some rest and recuperation (R & R).
The trouble with a guerrilla war in the African bush is that it is highly mobile, adversaries covering many kilometres every day. Troops are always on the move by foot, truck or helicopter. It is hot during the day and can be very cool at night, especially when sitting in an ambush wearing only a camo t-shirt and shorts drenched by torrential rain. You could not carry any extra clothing so the clothes and footwear you left base with on each patrol remained on your body the whole time. Boots were rarely removed, only in safe zones. Nor could you carry a heavy blanket, this was substituted by your nylon bivvy for warmth. Many a cold, wet night I have spent shivering wondering what I was doing there wishing I had left the bloody country, only to forget this when the sun came up. Our food was unhealthy at best. At most, we would have a decent meal on return to the company base camp once a week for a nights rest and ration resupply. Resupply to the company occurred once a week, so if you happened to be in camp within two days of a company resupply you could be lucky and get a fresh steak, but by the end of the week prior to the next supply, it was curry to hide the tainted taste of the rotting meat as the gas deep freezers in the bush bases were always failing. If they were not exactly plumbline level or were in a breeze, they snuffed out. Company headquarter personnel received cooked meals every day, while we, actively on patrol had what was known as ‘Rat Packs’, the name for our dry ration boxes. These dry rations came in a package the size of a shoebox for each day. They contained a tin of meat, chopped ham or bully beef. On occasion, a tin of pilchards, which if eaten made you thirsty and lingered at the back of your throat for days. For variety, a tin of beans and franks or the worst, a tin of spaghetti with a hard-boiled egg with the attributes of a rubber ball which had the hue of bluish-green and the smell of your best fart. It was later deemed they were unfit for human consumption, although we were issued them for nearly a year. In alternate packs, there would be a tin of orange segments or 'viennas', about 150 gms each. Deemed luxuries to be fought over.
The real essentials were a small bag of rice, tea, sugar, a sachet of powdered milk, some orange flavoured drink crystals known to us as ‘Jungle Juice’. Something you would not drink if you had a choice, but utilised by us to hide the fetid taste of putrid water. A box of matches, salt tablets for dehydration and vitamin pills. Oh, and do not forget the few sheets of toilet paper. There was a choice of three types of packs for white soldiers, while black African troops had maize meal instead of rice and Bambara beans instead of baked beans. When we could, we would grab those boxes as they were preferred. Finally, there were a couple of hard-boiled fruit sweets to ease hunger pangs. Hard biscuits known as ‘dog biscuits’ were also supplied with a tube of butter and a tube of pumpkin jam with a fruit flavouring. The latter was known as ‘toe jam’. A tube of cream cheese was introduced for a short while but after I recognised the cheese was giving my guys the squirts, I announced over the radio in my Scots accent, “Don’t eat the cheese!”, to everyone's mirth, it was withdrawn.
Later, many, many mimics would call over the radio in a fake Scottish accent, “Don’t eat the cheese!” in times of boredom.
We would break the daily packs down for patrol, it would be impossible to carry all this food for five or six days. Most of us would take all the tea, all the sweets, maybe two packs of sugar and two packs of powdered milk each, one rice per two men per day, the salt and multi-vitamins including all the toilet paper with only one tin and a pack of dog biscuits per day. The latter were light and filling. Tea, which we called ‘a brew’ was our lifeline, especially when thirsty and water was short, tea was best to relieve thirst. Water would be gulped too quickly while hot tea was sipped. The sugar in it also supplied much-needed energy. We would ‘brew up’ whenever we stopped. By this time we had exchanged our solid fuel cubes for butane gas cookers. We all carried a cooker and a spare canister. We never finished the water in our bottles, until we found a resupply, be it from a tap, stream, putrid pool or worse.
Added to this, were the health challenges. Before the rains, freshwater was never available. Where there was habitation, villagers would have sources, but to visit them would be to compromise your position, so we most often relied on stagnant mosquito larvae infested pools. Two-litre water bottles were all we carried. We also carried water purification tablets which were somewhat ineffective while tainting your tea with chlorine. Walking in 35 to 40 degrees Celcius heat soon soaked this up with dehydration occurring all too often, especially in hot pursuit (on tracks). We had salt tablets; the problem was water to go with it. Of course, the bush was open in winter, the dry season, much easier to spot unusual behaviour of villagers indicating terrorist activity. The opposition also had to drink and remain hidden relying on villagers to supply them. Once the ICZ (International Convergence Zone) came down in summer there was an abundance of water.
During the dry season, Mopane bees drove you mad. These small stingless bees would seek moisture in every orifice, your eyes, ears and nose driving you mad. Any moisture such as sweat was an attractant. In the rains, it was the swarms of mosquitos. Despite taking prophylactics, malaria was common. We would also receive bilharzia jabs, but people still succumbed to this parasite as time went on. The water we drank and washed in was generally full of the host snails. Other insects and critters that added to our discomfort were tsetse fly, horse fly and of course ticks carrying both tick bite fever and tick fever.
Stomach disorders, simply known as, ‘the shits’, were common. I have seen soldiers walking on patrol without trousers so as not to soil themselves. Nothing worse than soiled trousers to add to the sweat chafing between your legs. I am sure this chafing also made most of us dispense with combat trousers and favour shorts, although frowned upon for external operations. You would need a very serious dose of the shits for the army to ‘case evac’ you. There was never enough toilet paper.
I recount one of my troopies once reported to me, “My world has just fallen out my arse, Sarge.”
Finally, after six weeks, every scratch, tick bite or grass seed that penetrated limbs became a gaping ulcer or ‘veld sore’ due to our poor diet, partly because we did not take our daily vitamin pills, along with further sores generated by ‘Putzi’ fly maggots. These maggots were sometimes found on some of your body parts you did not want your mates to squeeze in order to remove. Because we kept our footwear on for six days at a time athletes foot was rife as was ‘Dhobie itch’. Not from soap but sweat and fungus. Funnily enough, snakes were seen but a rare problem. In fact, our snake bite kits were withdrawn as when incorrectly used generally caused more harm than the bite.
This is just to clarify, walking around in the African bush during a war was not so much a safari, but a battle to maintain your health in order to fight the war. We were all relieved when our first nine weeks in the northeast were up and we could return to Wankie for a break. As raw national servicemen these challenges were tough but as time went on our bowels toughened up and we learnt how to live with the challenges the bush presented.
The Challenges of Investing in African Agriculture Part VIII - First Impressions
This week I have been exchanging chats with a couple of farmers in Mozambique with whom I was actively involved for many years during my career in development funding. They both had some seriously hard times, some personal, but also surviving in a hostile environment, including a military uprising, where it is exceedingly hard to do business, let alone farm. Drought and flood is always a challenge without the added interference by a government's bureaucracy. Finance is almost impossible to access through conventional banks as are conventional markets. The latter is a real challenge in Africa, as there are no longer any formal marketing organisations that function for the better of both the producer and processor. Fortunately, processors in Africa can access funds, having less risk than farmers making them the king for the day with the ability to buy. I wonder if in Europe, will the supermarket giants destroy themselves due to their success and the demise of their producers on the back of their greed?
“Agricultural processors and large retailers seldom think of the long term sustainability of their agricultural suppliers squeezing them on price, quality and payment whenever they can. The present year bottom lines are the most important thing to their profit incentivised management.” - Peter McSporran
Getting back to these two families, I say families as both are very strong family units. Actually, I am never sure who the real boss is between them, the wife or the husband. Anyway, without getting to know them and their farms well I would have given little thought to supporting them by scrutinising their financials. Certainly, their business numbers did not stack up for many years. They survived on their willpower (bloody-mindedness), tenacity and belief in what they were trying to achieve. As it was, both had their main sponsor exit with a partial debt write down, good for the local economy including employment, tough for the sponsor. The thing is, the sponsor could survive without that loan repayment, while these businesses with all the people they employed would fail if the loans were called in for immediate payment. Patience would have benefitted both, but that is not always recognised.
“Some funding organisations now recognise their funding partners governance requirements are too expensive to administer in the smaller loans and investments startups in African Agriculture. Without some dispensation on this, less funding will reach small businesses in Africa.” - Peter McSporran
As the sponsor was a development organisation using funds specifically to support new businesses, it was a no brainer. Obviously, the danger of this, is that it can set an example for less scrupulous investees or borrowers to take advantage of the investor or creditors goodwill.
Both businesses are now going strong, producing seed crops with one supplying meat to Maputo, offering a sales outlet for small producers of goats and cattle, while they employ several hundred people. Now many thousands rely on their seeds for crops and cattle and goat sales for their very survival. I am talking jobs and production here not knowing their finances any longer I cannot comment on that, no doubt money is still owed, hopefully at a manageable level.
Without having met these gentlemen and their families and being impressed by them, I doubt if they would have had the same amount of success in raising funds. They are not the only successes in the area with a thriving maize mill, potato producer, along with a number of export fruit producers, large and small, all created by these patient capital loans now virtually impossible to access.
“For a small investee to access a loan having to adopt the investor's governance policy in its entirety is verging on ludicrous.” - Peter McSporran
Well done to the sponsors AgDevCo, we need more of these grass-root investments in Africa. Finding such opportunities requires boots on the ground, not desks in Europe coupled with a fresh mindset on how to administer them.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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