“The end of the year is always a time for reflection on the year gone by. As we age we are more inclined to reflect on our whole life.”- Peter McSporran
It is coming to the end of yet another year. For me, healthwise, it has been one of the toughest. My health has been like that troublesome tractor breakdown; something else immediately goes wrong when you think you have fixed it. Unfortunately, I cannot get rid of my body as easily as a troublesome tractor, so I will have to persevere. The good news is that after nearly two and a half months on antibiotics trying to get rid of an infection, my local doctor seems to have done what the doctors at the University could not: found an antibiotic for its treatment. My tests this week indicate I am now infection-free. As usual, the service from our GP at the local clinic and his staff is second to none. Always making time for me and answering my e-mails almost by return.
We have been spoiled this week by having our good Dutch friends Erik and Tineke Wiersma, their son Jorryt and his girlfriend Thalisia staying with us. Friends and family are so important. Unfortunately, our children, like many ex-Zimbabweans, are spread around the world. Our son Selby is spending Christmas day in Edinburgh with his partner, Maggie's family. Storm and her long-time partner Duncan are presently in Mozambique and are spending Christmas in Cape Town before returning to London. Finally, Janine, my youngest daughter, and her husband are spending Christmas in Texas with their husband Nathan’s family. Friends and neighbours John and Margaret Tidey will host us for Christmas lunch.
This time of year, I find, is very much a time of reflection. For me, that is back to those Christmases in early childhood and those on the farm in Zimbabwe. I can remember my sister and I in the build-up to Christmas, hoping for snow as avidly as waiting for Santa Claus. Snow on the island of Mull was very rare before or on Christmas. Rain was the usual, but I do remember, on returning from the estate Christmas party one year, seeing icicles hanging from the trees on the road home in the early hours. In my early years, the annual estate Christmas party, held in Salen village hall, was the highlight of the year for us children. As my parents were also host to the adult dance that followed, it meant we stayed up into the early hours, always entertained by the adults a little worse for the drink. I cannot remember getting tired until we climbed into the car for the three-mile trip home, and even then, due to excitement in recalling the night's events, I was able to stay awake most of the time. There are no reindeer on Mull, but there are plenty of red deer to see on a late-night trip home around Christmas.
"In making the right life decisions when you are young will very much improve the comfort of your reflections when you are elderly."- Peter Mcsporran
Christmas lunch was a family affair within our house, a constant of chicken soup, followed by goose supplied by Mrs Crichton, whose men folk worked on the estate but had their own property where they reared poultry, including geese for Christmas. They were also great fishermen and hunters, which I am sure I have mentioned before. Finally, Christmas pudding was often left on the plate after the hidden sixpences had been found. Christmas pudding and brandy sauce were not among my favourites. Like most children, its attraction was the coins, not the taste.
I do remember that about a week before Christmas, the family would travel to Tobermory. to enable my father to stock up with spirits and other drinks and whiskey, the latter, especially for New Year first footers, at Browns. I was surprised to see Browns is still a going concern. Browns sold hardware, wines and spirits, and, importantly, fishing tackle, the latter of my only interest. My step-uncle Willie Harley worked there for many years. I never witnessed any Christmas shopping here; I presume it was done secretly earlier in Oban, where there was a lot more choice.
In those days, it was rare for us to go out to restaurants, not that there were many on Mull. A day trip to Oban to visit the shops or attend a livestock sale would mean lunch in a tea room or, better, the market restaurant, which served amazing breakfasts most of the day. Very typical home fare rather than fine dining, so Christmas lunch was very special. I often wonder if it is still so important to families today when meals out, including exotic fare, are commonplace. My friend Erik tells me that in Holland, more families are returning to traditional Christmases at home, which is a good thing. The food is secondary, the most important thing is for the family to make great efforts to be together at Christmas, no matter what your religion, which must be a good thing.
On the farm on Darwendale, it was also a family affair always shared with my in-laws the Belinsky’s. We would alternately annually entertain each other in our homes. In Zimbabwe, the traditional meal was turkey but we preferred duck as an alternative. Not forgetting the Christmas Ham, normally cooked in ginger beer and eaten daily for at least a week following Christmas. Every year, we would order a ham from Colcom, preferably a gammon. The ducks, when we had them, generally only lasted one meal.
Christmas came at tobacco reaping time, and on rare occasions, we would be forced to reap, especially if we had a good start to the rains. The irrigated tobacco was inclined to ripen quickly following the rains around Christmas. Fortunately or unfortunately, heavy rain before Christmas was rare, so being forced to work on Christmas days was not so common, although tobacco curing and livestock attendance continued as on any normal day.
On Christmas Eve, the children of the farm workers would come to sing to be rewarded with copious amounts of sweets, which the mothers seemed to enjoy as much as the kids. The workers would receive an extra ration of meat and a goodie box along with beer.
For ourselves following Christmas lunch, we would always do a district tour to see the state of our neighbour's crops. When at the Belinky’s, my father-in-law always insisted this tour would include the top end of the Mazowe Valley, wanting to know what the Blacks and Millars were doing. It seems spying on your neighbours on Christmas day was common practice as we would often meet fellow farmers on the road doing the same. We would take our drinks with us, something you could not do today, especially here in Europe. I should mention on the farm tours for some reason, it was men only while the women stayed at home tidying up the Christmas wrapping and dirty dishes, with the help of servants, may I add. Those servants who worked in the house on Christmas day would take platters laden with our fare home to their families, so they were more than happy to do so. Equally on reflection, they must have pondered on the extravagance of their mzungu bosses.
I have been trying to reflect back on Christmas 1992 and cannot really put events to the date. I do know we had the Commercial Farmers Union (CFU) Christmas party at Borrowdale racecourse. Staff Christmas parties are generally where employees like to, after a few drinks, point out to their bosses their failings in character and how the business or organisation could run better. Luckily, normally after the extended Christmas break, their remorse and their boss's eire would have worn off, and everything returns to normal in the office in the New Year.
When I left the CFU, the management and staff gave me bound copies of the magazine, so I was able to have a quick look at December 1992 events. That year, Kerry Kay was voted Farm Lady of the Year for her work in the Aids awareness program. Aids affected many of our workers and the population as a whole in those days. Doom and gloom was the cry. Now it is hardly mentioned that people’s habits are changing, and antiviral medications allow sufferers to lead normal lives. On a sadder note, that December, my President of the Union, Anthony Swire-Thompson and his wife, Dierdre, went on a well-deserved overseas trip only to learn back at home in Nyanga, his farm had been devastated by a severe wind and hail storm destroying the season apple crops, doing lasting damage to the trees and completely destroying his export flower greenhouses and contents. His losses went into the millions. Anthony survived this disaster mainly by using his trucks as commercial transport and being extremely frugal in his personal life.
“Every year has its good and bad, happy and sad times, and so life will go on. I wish you all a very Happy Christmas and a healthy 2024.” - Peter McSporran
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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