Comments, Storm Kirsten Damage, Abductions and Beatings, The Murder of Terry Ford.
- Janine MacSporran
- 1 minute ago
- 9 min read
First off, a thank you to all those from both sides of the fence who took the time to contact me directly following last weeks blog with your comments in reference to the impasse that seems to be holding up the separation of the Commercial Farmers Union (CFU) and as yet to be named organisation, or perhaps an existing committee such as Agricultural Recovery and Compensation Committee (ARAC) or the Compensation Steering Committee (CSC) to take over the representation of Title Deed Holders (TDHs). It may even remain with the CFU itself, although it appears that several toxic legacies, in the form of signed agreements to retain advisors or formal arrangements with third parties, will make this extremely difficult. How many of us pleaded with the leadership and council of the CFU to obtain an independent legal opinion on the agreements they were entering into, let alone the main one, the Global Compensation Deed (GCD)? These agreements are now causing many of the problems in securing a way forward, especially the need to cleanse toxic agreements that appear to have benefited the sponsors and promoters rather than the TDHs. So many acronyms, so hard to follow. The most difficult to comprehend for outsiders is the TDHs, as the full name ‘Title Deed Holder’, does not enlighten one on who or what it represents. A TDH is a Zimbabwean farmer, black or white, whose farm was taken from him without compensation for the land or its immovable improvements. Land is self-explanatory, while immovable improvements include buildings, power lines, fences, dips and corrals, plantations, boreholes, dams, or fixed irrigation systems, to name a few. The Government changed the constitution regarding compensation for land, contrary to international law, to avoid paying compensation, instead deeming it the responsibility of the ex-colonial ruler, Britain. It did, however, leave the right of compensation for improvements within a fair period. Twenty-five years later, it still has not abided by this, something written into its own constitution by itself. Perhaps it is time to find the funds to legally unravel these agreements, signed under dubious circumstances by those who said they had the right but not the mandate to represent us then. Even to this day, they use their historical office titles to misrepresent us; perhaps we should look more closely at their possible legal culpability.
“Many who feel unaccountable to those they represent are more likely to be found accountable at a later date due to the unexpected. Look at Mandelson.” - Peter McSporran
It has been a week since the cyclone-force storm, Kirsten, hit us, and the widespread damage is more and more coming to light. Leiria, about thirty kilometres from us, was particularly badly hit, with many buildings, both commercial and private houses, extremely badly damaged, in fact flattened. For Coimbra, our nearest city, less than twenty kilometres away, flooding persists as do the daily downpours of rain, along with severe wind. Meanwhile, we are once again under red alert for a major storm this Thursday, the 5th. The damage on roofs is so bad that it will take weeks, if not months, for the repairs to be carried out, as obviously there are just not enough artisans to do the major jobs. Small repairs are done by yourself or local ‘odd job men.’ For our roof damage, a Polish person, Pavel, who has lived in Portugal for many years, fixed it within a couple of hours. We were lucky, from our home, we can see many unrepaired roofs. A small anecdote about the Portuguese: everyone is trying to help those worse off than themselves. Anyway, Pavel arrived slightly later than he had promised, saying he couldn't find a petrol station with electrical power to fill his car. On finding one, their card machines were down as there was no internet; it was off for nearly three days for those without Starlink. He informed the garage staff he had no cash. “No problem,” they said. Take the fuel and bring the cash when you get it. At that time, the ATM’s were also down, so they knew the cash would not be available for some time. I wonder how many took this offer, hopefully all would pay. It is certainly something you would not be offered, nor would you be stupid enough to offer, in Africa or in the UK. As for the rain, it does not stop. Last month, 368mm fell on us and in the next ten days, an excess of 400mm is forecast.
On returning from my trip to Scotland with my daughters, Janine and Storm, in January 2002, one of the first things I did was go round my farms and take digital video of them using a camera I had bought for that trip but barely used. I think the only thing on it on my return was the landscape of Mull with a few red deer in the distance, so out of focus they could be goats for all the viewer knew. Anyway, using the same camera, I went round filming the farms and the result, while a slight improvement, was still bloody awful, although the narrative was interesting, but intensely sad, especially when talking about the cattle and to a lesser extent the pigs, all of which were destined to be sold for slaughter. There was a very limited market for youngstock, but at prices closer to theft than to the recently depressed market price. It would also mean that my budding Droughtmaster herd females would be slaughtered while Keith Swales volunteered to take the bulls to sell at the July bull sales two years or so later, which hopefully covered his costs for keeping them. I also left a flask of Droughtmaster semen at CC Sales, which my brother-in-law Mike Belinsky would draw on from time to time for his herd. For all I know, there may still be some straws around; most were from my own breeding, although some Australian straws were also in there. At that time, we were busy harvesting the tobacco crops on Diandra and Mede farms; we had stopped growing at Wellesley and only had seed maize on Rydal in Mazowe, thinking, wrongly, that for the good of the country, they would allow it to be harvested for smallholders' needs the following year. After listening to the narrative on the camera, briefly skipping most of it, I was reminded that we had 100 hectares of seed maize growing at Rydal that year, as many growers had already lost their farms, and an extra area was required to meet the country's seed maize requirements. We had already abandoned broiler production there; we had other crops because the war vets had a penchant for helping themselves to the birds and maize.
By this time, Tommy Biller, my manager on Rydal, was under a huge amount of pressure, being forced to attend all-night ‘pungwes’, finding himself along with other white farmers doing bunny hops and other exercises for extended periods, until dropping at the threat of physical damage. To his credit, he hung on, then one day a local war vet, an active Air Force officer, threatened to play Russian roulette with him, and he said he had had enough. So Tommy left us, leaving Ian Lindsay, who came back to help me, get what equipment we could off the farms and finish the crops. Ian moved the machinery and even harvested a few cobs of seed maize, but we ultimately had to abandon them. Ian himself was abducted in my absence on Diandra. By that time, the workers had become hostile, seeing equipment being moved and, rightly so, fearing that their jobs were in jeopardy. So the threat was not only from the war vets but also from the more aggressive members of the workforce, who were making huge demands. Chatting to Ian on the telephone a few weeks ago, he reminded me of the abduction. He was held against his will for twelve hours, telling me it was his charm that got his release. Those who know Ian will know how unlikely that statement was, it was probably his redheaded fury, and they were glad to get rid of him. As I said, I was away much of the time, and each return it became more and more difficult, but despite the odds, Dave Craft on Diandra, Wayne Marias on Mede, overseen by Ian, got the tobacco crop reaped, cured, graded, and sold. We found that most of this was used up in complying with the labour payouts under the SI6 mentioned in an earlier blog.
I should mention that Joey Marais kept the farm office running, staying with her husband. In one instance, Wayne was abducted, and my neighbours called me with this news as I was in Harare at the time, and I returned to the farm to rescue him from the hands of the war vets as the police looked on. On rescue, I found he had been beaten with hosepipes. A both painful and fearful experience for him and a bum-tightening one for me. A few weeks earlier, Dave Craft had just avoided a huge rock thrown at him, which could have easily killed him, while trying to shield the indigenous manager on a neighbouring farm. No doubt, it was now time to get rid of the livestock, finish the remaining crops and move on.
“In any conflict, be it like civil disturbances instigated by the Government against us or the end of the independence war, as we had experienced some twenty years earlier, the knowledge that you are losing something you treasure and were willing to fight for leaves an indelible imprint on your psyche for the rest of your life.” - Peter McSporran
Then, in March 2002, between the 8th and the 11th, a presidential election was held, flawed in every way and certainly not free. The numerous political murders were evidence of this, as were the ballot boxes loaded with pre-marked ballot papers, many of the names attributed to these voters being of deceased persons or unregistered unknown persons, while those boxes from opposition strongholds just disappeared in their entirety, ensuring Mugabe’s victory. At his inauguration a week later, Mugabe called on his followers, including the war veterans, to intensify their efforts to forcibly evict the white farmers, or those deemed as his enemies. Enemies were anyone affiliated or sympathetic to the opposition. So the violence increased, and more and more farmers fled the land.
It was on one of my now less frequent visits to the farm from Zambia when the news came to us that one of our neighbours, Terry Ford, had been murdered. Terry, in his mid-fifties, was a very unassuming person who, with his wife Trish, had farmed for many years on Msasa Farm about twelve kilometres from me, just next door to Joe and Wendy Whaley. Throughout my time in the district, Terry would, without fail, give the Sheep and Goat Association report at our Farmers' Association meetings. In fact, for a while, he was its chairman. Terry, by this time, just ran cattle and sheep on his farm, leasing the cropping land out; in fact, in the early nineties, my future brother-in-law, Rob Cary, leased the tobacco section. To allow the lessees close access to the tobacco barns, he had built himself a new home, allowing the old homestead for their use. This house happened to be just 300 metres from Joe and Wendy’s house on Crebilly Farm. By March of that year, Terry had moved to town but frequently visited the homestead to check on it, and it was on one of these visits when he was captured by the war vets, one of two groups vying to take over his farm. I arrived at Joe's later that day to find him so distraught, not about his own safety, but rather that he had not heard Terry’s screams as he had been tortured in the night. It was reported he had been beaten and shot. Joe informed me they had held him against a tree as they slowly crushed him to death with his own car before shooting him. Joe’s farm workers informed Joe the next morning that they heard the screams but were too fearful to call Joe. I think this was lucky, as knowing Joe, he would have sped to Terry's aid and could have well suffered a similar fate.
By then, it would have been too late for Terry anyway, but this never stopped Joe from blaming himself for something beyond his control. Terry’s body lay under a blanket for many hours, and a picture of him under a blanket with his Jack Russell, Squeak, curled up beside him, went viral. Did it prompt international action? No! Needless to say, we farmers in the area were all shocked. Beatings and death threats were one thing; murder was a new level. What other farming districts had already experienced had come to our area. Terry was the tenth white farmer killed by that time during the land invasions.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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