É Vida
This weekend it was once again the ‘Sardine Festa’ at our next-door village, Santo Amaro. The actual fiesta had been on all weekend but on the last night, normally on the Monday, everyone is invited to watch family games and partake in a feast of free fresh sardines, which you can barbecue on the half-oil drum provided, exactly like those from home. A wonderful evening with free food and cheap drinks. As I was the driver, I could not partake in the drinks which was a pity as wine was sixty cents a glass and beer one euro. A great community bonding evening with the extremely old, yes some much older than me, to the very young having a great time. It seems natural for the ages to mix comfortably with each other here.
In Portugal, the people are generally very happy, always welcoming and smiling. However, I often wonder how the people remain so placid, in fact, almost stoical to what life brings them, especially if ill fortune overtakes them. They have troubles and ill health like us all, yet they seem to take a much more philosophical view of it as these good and bad events occur in their lives. In my mind, this philosophy can be summed up in three short sentences that are frequently used in their everyday vocabulary.
“How you express yourself in your daily contact with others can be a good measure of the person you are.” - Peter McSporran
The first is ‘é vida’ and is often expressed following the announcement of some ailment or personal misfortune to self or family. It can also explain a broader calamity. It simply means ‘that is life’. I know the Portuguese went through many hardships, especially the common man during the days of the dictatorship. The poor got poorer and the rich got richer, perhaps that's why they say, ‘é vida’ when things are tough.
The next sentence you hear often is ‘de nada’. In southern Africa, you often hear people misusing it in a negative way meaning simply nothing. For example, the question: ‘Did you find the money?’ Answer: ‘Nada.’ (no). But in Portugal, it means either ‘it was nothing’ in response to giving thanks for help or a service where it also means, ‘you are welcome.’
The final phrase used often in Portugal and as slang at home in Zimbabwe is ‘não faz mal’ meaning no worries or it is not a problem. I do not know why it was so commonly used in English-speaking southern Africa?
“If you greet a stranger in a Western city he or she will startingly look at you aghast at you being so forward. That is how far in this technological age we are moving towards social isolation.” - Peter McSporran
Like every race, there are the angry and rude Portuguese, but generally, their good manners and forgiving attitude far outweigh those who are rude. On meeting, you are greeted with good morning ‘bom dia’, ‘boa tarde’, good afternoon and ‘boa noite’, good evening. These three can have the word ‘ola’ in front meaning hello, but used mainly to catch your attention before the formal time of day greeting.
The Portuguese are at their most aggressive behind the wheel of a car where they are inclined to take on the attitude of a competitive rally driver. This is where you are most likely to hear an insult or swear word, that is from an open car window when their way is blocked. Luckily, they seem to leave this aggression in the car and regain their friendly nature when on two feet.
‘Perhaps if we all took a leaf out of the Portuguese from their manners and attitude the world would be a more peaceful place, although perhaps somewhat slower which many of us would like anyway as technology runs away from us, the more senior population.’ - Peter McSporran
Children
I have not written much about my children other than about the birth of my two daughters. Children are remarkable as they afford their parents' love even when we do not deserve it. Parents always believe they are doing their best for their children, in their hairstyle, in their dress, in the choice of school and the selection of their friends. Importantly, parents know best with what is expected behaviorally of their children. As the child grows older, the unconditional love given in infancy and early childhood comes into question when the child begins to challenge what you consider good for them, especially in their teens. Even your own behaviour can be questioned by them. In both instances it is right for them to challenge, equally, it is important for the parent to listen. This we are guilty of not doing especially if we perceive ourselves being too busy.
“I think the biggest regret most parents have in later life is not having given their children more of their time. At the time, so simple to make an excuse, later not to give an adequate reason why.” - Peter McSporran
Despite these challenges, I can safely say my children, all of them, have brought me so much joy and happiness. I will talk about Storm and Janine today, as Selby came into my life much later at a time of trauma for him and us, we, his parents, having to leave our farms and home. Even our country.
Storm was the first to arrive, I remember the day well, the 14th of April 1979. There had just been a very late thunderstorm with the last six leaves of our rainfed tobacco crop totally destroyed by hail. On returning from the fields after viewing the destruction, Diane informed me we should immediately head for Lady Chancellor Hospital as she was about to give birth. Late that night, when our daughter was born, there was little doubt in her name, ‘Storm’ sticking from her full name Elizabeth Storm. Remember in those days we had no access to scans to get a warning of the sex of our child, which I am sure added to our excitement, we were both delighted with a daughter. Storm suffered from colic from an early age and sleepless nights with a screaming child were to become the norm in our life. To keep her mind off her stomach pain, she would spend time with me on the farm as soon as she was able to walk. She walked at a very early age and we had to keep an eye on her as she was inclined to get up to mischief like setting our garden fence alight. She continued to love the farm when she was home and at junior school, happy on the back of my motorbike or truck. It was not uncommon for her to return to school with motorbike exhaust burns on her legs, health and safety rules did not exist in those days.
Poor Storm at an early age caught a persistent unidentified stomach bug that for a couple of years had her purge her bowels constantly. So embarrassing for her and so worrying for us. One of the worst flights we ever had was when we took her to Scotland to see her Scottish grandparents where throughout the flight she cried with her mother constantly changing her nappy. I am sure she will not like me having written about that. We would have her at the doctor almost weekly which she dreaded as she normally would receive a painful injection to combat her ailment, always in vain. How we dreaded those doctor visits!
The world is a weird place. Our doctor left to specialise in gynaecology and we found our family health being looked after by Dr Timothy Stamps. So liberal, he eventually became Minister of Health in Mugabe's regime. Despite my personal prejudice, I am forever grateful to him as he discovered and identified the bacterial cause of Storm’s ailment, a polluted borehole and managed to rectify it, although she still suffers from IBS to this day. Probably due to that early damage. By the late eighties, she was a healthy child and while not excelling academically she was a brilliant sportsperson eventually playing senior team tennis, where few beat her in her age group, including junior squash for Zimbabwe.
It was therefore with great trepidation that we awaited Janine Tarn’s birth. What a surprise when this one arrived. I have recounted the day in an earlier blog, that being we were at Phil and Cherith Roberts house enjoying a typical social weekend on their farm. Firstly, she was blonde, while Storm was brown haired, she had blue eyes, while Storm’s were brown but most importantly from day one she slept through the night. Unbelievable, to the extent we were worried there may have been something wrong with her as she was so different to Storm in her habits. That was to change. While Storm as she grew older mellowed and became a more obedient child, comparatively, Janine from an angel became more and more rebellious. I remember when we dropped off Storm at her school at Bishopslea on her first day, obviously as a boarder as we stayed too far out of town to allow for day scholaring, Janine started screaming her head off. A concerned parent accosted me to say how could we leave such a small child at school, I had to explain we were trying to take her home not leave her as she wanted to be with her sister.
Another amazing trait Janine has and may still have is an affinity with animals. She was happy to walk into a herd of newly calved cows without harm, much to our oft-time trepidation, or quell the anger of an angry dog with a soothing word or pat much to our apprehension. When it came to animals she refused to listen to the advice of her parents.
“In my experience, having a natural affinity with animals is a trait, not a learned skill.” - Peter McSporran
My marriage by the late eighties had become rocky, maybe due to my behaviour. It was filled with petty bickering. I have no doubt in my mind, along with our personal efforts, it lasted as long as it did because we had the children to mutually care for. As I said, both girls went to junior school at Bishopslea where my wife Diane and her sister Sandra had gone before and where my father-in-law was the chairman of the board. A lovely school and despite everything I think they enjoyed it. Maybe they will make an alternate comment. Unfortunately, both were not yet ten when I got involved at Commercial Oilseeds and perhaps did not give them the attention they deserved. Diane was always a caring mother there for them.
From an early age, they accompanied us on holidays on our boat to Kariba Lake, happy to sit in the sun all day fishing or game viewing. On these trips, we had to be constantly alert in case they went too near the water where crocodiles lurked. The crocodiles learned to follow the houseboats. All boats on Kariba were called houseboats even if mono-hulled and not a pontoon. Every evening the crew would gut and fillet the fish throwing the remains off the back of the boat attracting these reptiles. Janine also had this thing, if you turned your back for a second before you knew it, she was at the bottom of the swimming pool, we would have never recovered her if she had done it in the lake. She could swim but seemed to like the bottom rather than the top.
We used to insist if the children wanted to fish they should bait their own hooks, for bream this was worms. One evening when we were staying at Bumi, Janine gave up on worms. I think as we were being stripped by Dwarf Bream she had become bored having to replace the worm every minute, and against my strongest verbal advice tried her well-chewed chewing gum on a hook, catching the largest fish of the day.
The eighties was the height of my gambling habit, either visiting Kariba, Victoria Falls, Bvumba or Nyanga to attend competitions or just visiting the casino prior to fishing trips. In those days the casinos were only in tourist spots, an overhand from Rhodesian days, ensuring gamblers would take their money out of the city to the benefit of those four rural communities. By the nineties, this had changed with what they called ‘charity casinos’ taking place initially rarely but eventually regularly in the cities to the detriment of those resorts. The other attraction was golf with the exception of Kariba, the only one without a golf course, which relied on water sports and wildlife. I never took to golf, as it was my days were already very full.
Later, I will talk about my children more but just to say we are so lucky, I am including Selby here, to have three loving children who keep in touch and are happy to visit whenever they can, all having completed tertiary education and finding useful careers.
“Our children owe us nothing. In fact, we will always owe them. It was our choice to have them and despite that, have always freely given their love in return.” - 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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