A Scheme for Relocation Agreed, Exodus of the Productive Sector and Final Dinner.

We had amazing sunsets this week between the rainy days. This picture was taken by one of our neighbours, Dan Shriver.

I never make New Year's resolutions, mainly because I very rarely, if ever, keep them. Perhaps because they were about changes to my lifestyle, like eating less, losing weight, drinking less, never anything that would have changed the world. But this coming year I am going to. 2026, a year I did not expect to see. Here I am now, looking forward to the 2027 Rugby World Cup. So after a lapse of about 30 years, in making my last New Year's resolution, here I go again. That is to try my utmost, note the word try, therefore no substantive promises, to restrict myself to no more than 1,500 words per blog. If you write anything longer than 1,500 words, they say the reader may well lose interest or just decide it will take too long to read. There are much better things for people to take up their time than reading the ramblings of an old man. A bit of trivia: Last week was my 270th blog post since I started writing to pass the time in the hospital. At an average of 2,250 words per blog, that means I have written over 900,000 words, the equivalent of seven crime novels. Another reason for the resolution is that it has become a significant task to edit 2,500 words as AI (Grammarly) not only wants to correct my spelling and grammar but also changes the nuances of what I am writing. The tool I use, Grammarly, made my task more manageable by automatically flagging my errors, but as it has advanced, if left to its own devices, it will try to rewrite my content. I am fast losing my patience with AI, as its answers to my questions are increasingly non-factual but seem to me instead based on the perceptions of the majority of contributors to the net. You are now advised to check its answers against other AI sources. Where will it end? Instead of simplifying life, it is now making it more complicated - for me anyway. Perhaps I am too stupid for AI.

The sunset reflected in our front door..

Back to 2001. After months of back-and-forth meetings with the bank, Universal Leaf Tobacco (in the form of Zimbabwe Leaf Tobacco - ZLT), Barclays Bank Zambia, and lawyers in Zimbabwe and Zambia, towards the end of 2001, we had the bones of a workable agreement for the funding of a scheme to move farmers to Zambia. Isaac Takaweira, CEO and David Hall, both of Barclays Zimbabwe, were a massive help with Barclays Zambia, giving me excellent recommendations and advice, so paying off all my debts to them before leaving the farms paid off. Who Knows? Tragically, David Hall was killed in an air accident a few years later. 

Luckily, I had the steady head of my designated working partner, John Knight of Ernst and Young, at my side in the critical meetings. However, by this time, relations between the ZLT representatives, Mark Neves and Tony Butler, and John were very strained, if not actually confrontational. Luckily, we had a friend and excellent legal advisor, Lindsay Cook of Atherstone and Cook, who looked after us during the drafting of a very lengthy and complicated agreement. At one stage, we stalled as the bank was unhappy that a third-party funder would also require a lien over the machinery and moveables. As most of the curing and tobacco storage facilities would be brick-and-mortar, that is, fixed improvements on leased land, I was not worried about ZLT taking security over them. But at the same time, ZLT wanted a lien over the crop, along with the curing infrastructure they supplied, making it difficult for Barclays to convince their international office to accept the agreement. We resolved this by having the tobacco company take priority only on the crop deliveries each year, which would be adequate to service their loan repayments for that year—the final stumbling block now being a funder for the tractor and field equipment. Farmers, if possible, would try to bring some in from Zimbabwe, but this was difficult and much would have to be funded in Zambia. While it was still legal to export agricultural equipment out of Zimbabwe, more often than not, the officials on the Zimbabwean side of the border would stop the trucks carrying it and turn them back, even with the correct documentation. That was the case until, eventually, towards the end of 2001, they introduced a statutory instrument banning all export of agricultural equipment unless it was new from the manufacturer. Personally, as one of the earlier farmers making the move, we had moved enough to start farming that year, although we could write a book about our efforts to get it out of Zimbabwe. One evening I was surprised to see an interlink loaded with much of my irrigation equipment held up on the bridge over the Zambezi on ZTV. We had another truck following it, which we immediately diverted to Nyamabanda to go via Mozambique. That being said, containers had tobacco clips at the back, hiding irrigation equipment at the front. That was to be our last truckload of equipment out of Zimbabwe. As for the irrigation equipment, it was lost to me. A huge financial loss. That was the end, legally, of any agricultural equipment out of Zimbabwe, so that which remained in Zimbabwe, like much of the farmers' equipment, was either lost on the farms or moved to rot in warehouses or allotments around the towns and cities where it slowly disintegrated or was stolen bolt by bolt. Hundreds of millions of dollars, not just lost to the farmers, but to the country. Not only were our farms and our homes taken, but our equipment as well; obviously, as there was no market for it in Zimbabwe. Luckily, just as the scheme was about to flounder due to this ban of moving equipment and the reluctance of the existing two lending partners to allow any liens over any assets, Barclays suddenly agreed to run a lease-to-buy scheme for us. Expensive, yes, as are all higher purchases, which it was in essence, but beggars cannot be choosers. Two years of work and out-of-pocket expenses had finally paid off.

"For three years I was the dog chasing the bus, little did I know I would have to drive it when I finally caught it." - Peter McSporran

Snow in the mountains, which closed some roads this week. Picture from the Portugal News. More snow to come this week.

For my partners, Graham Rae, Vernon Nicolle, and me, we started farming by planting a small seed maize crop on Indambo Farm and a soya crop on Marula Farm, land we leased from Zambezi Ranching and Cropping (ZRC). Little did we know that our first year would be one of the worst droughts Zambia had seen in recent years. Meanwhile, when in Zambia I would stay with Graham Rae and his partner, Bernice, at Penyeonce Farm while on my return trips to Zimbabwe I would either stay on the farm or more often than not at Sally Sandeman’s house in Avondale as she was already, like her sister, Jane Crossman, planning her move to Portugal where her brother David had lived for many years. Sixteen years later, Rozanne and I would follow them. 

"I am not a believer in fate, but somehow some people's lives are inexplicably entwined with yours. For us, the Hamp-Adams are such a family." - Peter McSporran

We had a tobacco crop in the ground at Diandra and Mede Farms, we had stopped cropping at Wellesley but planted a hundred hectares of seed maize at Rydal, which lay at the top of the Mazowe valley. In retrospect, the latter was stupid, and one day I visited, I was shocked to see a neighbour's tractor on my land, preparing it for planting by the war vets. I must inform you it was not the Millars, my neighbours to the south and honourable people. Unfortunately, in those trying times, not everyone acted honourably in their personal attempts to remain on their farms by assisting the invaders. Despite this, we still got a crop in, but much of it was to be compromised and finally stolen. 

No snow for us but streams have become torrents.

In November that year, I learned that both the Smith brothers, Alistair and David, were leaving Zimbabwe with their families. They were the sons of my first boss in Rhodesia, Hamish Smith, and both were groomsmen at my wedding. Like many, they were joining the now flood-type exodus of white and black professionals including tradesmen. Anyone with a good qualification and the ability to gain entry to anywhere other than Zimbabwe was leaving. Not only did the land invasions devastate agriculture and industries that relied on it, but the loss of critical productive people also had a significant effect on the economy, especially the manufacturing industries. On hearing of their pending departure, Alistair to Australia, David to the USA, and me to Zambia, our mutual good friends Joe and Wendy Whaley organised a farewell dinner at their farm, Crebilly, in December of that year. Joe was convinced that, as his farm fell under the required area of 300 hectares, he would be able to retain it, but none except for the corrupt and collaborators would be able to do so, no matter the size of their farm or the word of the law. It was a sad evening; so many dreams around that table had been destroyed, all of us having been successful in our respective enterprises, only to see them destroyed overnight in a wanton manner—my last Christmas on the farms and our last meal together.

To all my readers, I wish you an enjoyable festive season, and as they say in Portugal.

“FELIZ NATAL”

Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.