Correction.Tension Time, Double Stupidity at the Western Australia Horse Sales. Consultancy Startup and First Scoping Trip Around Africa.

Home. Nothing beats a comfortable home for relieving tension. Not forgetting a whisky and cigar in the evening on the 'stoep.'

Yet another correction. I mentioned in a previous blog that John Ward, formerly of Grizzley from Swan Hill, had passed away. This is not correct, as pointed out to me by Vernon Nicolle. I must stop killing people off, and my sincere apologies to John and his family for my mistake. Here is to your long life, John.

I am writing this on Sunday morning this week before heading to a ‘Soup’ festa in a nearby village. Yes, in Portugal, we have festivals for everything, from nuts to sardines to religion, but this is my first soup festival. Furthermore, I become agitated if I have not completed my blog by Wednesday morning each week, as I require my daughter, Janine, to review my English prior to posting, which I like to do the day before actually posting on Friday. Tomorrow morning I have blood tests at the hospital, and at midday I pick up an old friend, Beth Bedford, who is visiting, and I would like to take her to a cattle sale on Tuesday. As a heat wave is predicted here for this coming week, we may need to change our plans. I have to undergo further tests later in the week, so I'd better get this blog out of the way. By the way, I always just ad lib as I write, so that does not change.

Beth and I this week. More about her visit next week

As the title suggests, I now have a couple of weeks of tension ahead of me. Yes, it's time for my medical reviews. I already have had the scans, and tomorrow I will have my blood tests for cancer markers at the main University Hospital. The following week, I will have my consultation with the surgeon. I have had nearly a six-month break on remission and have generally successfully put the fact that I have cancer, not one but two, out of my mind. I remain positive, but as these reviews approach, despite my efforts, the tension within me rises. I was also scheduled to have an appointment with the cardiologist next week, but that has now been delayed until late July. 

It will be nine years this October since I was first diagnosed with prostate cancer, and five since my heart failures and stomach cancer were diagnosed. I would like to say I have grown accustomed to the tension, but in truth, it remains, although time has somewhat diminished its intensity. Amid these events around cancer, I also have my six-monthly review following blood and urine tests at our local clinic the following week. One of the last things my stomach cancer surgeon said was, “Do not put any weight on.” Sadly, I have, so am expecting a strong lecture. 

“I have found over the years that generally my own actions have caused me much more personal tension than any outside party.” - Peter McSporran

I have to go back to February or perhaps March 1998 because I have omitted one of my many stupid actions. In mitigation, this action was not done alone but in a group with my partners, Vernon Nicolle, Kevin O’Toole and Warwick Small. I thought this misjudgment happened towards the end of 1998, but following a bit of research, I found the annual horse sales in Perth, Australia, are held in late February, early March, so it must have been then. During our travels in Australia, we befriended a bloodstock horse agent named Mark. Vernon did remind me of his surname, but I cannot find his message on that subject, and I have forgotten his surname yet again. Anyway, Mark became a good friend, and we spent many pleasant days with him, including occasional visits to a stud farm. That would all be fine, but on one of our visits to Australia, it coincided with the bloodstock sales, and I think Kevin sowed the seeds, it was suggested we should consider buying a horse. It made no sense for two reasons. One, if it ever reached the racecourse, when would we see it run if we were living in Zimbabwe, and secondly, our limited funds would probably allow us to buy something just up the running scale from a donkey. But before we even purchased the horse, our first mistake occurred during viewing the evening before the sale. We went along and listened to Kevin and Vanessa Nicolle, who accompanied us on this trip, to discuss the virtues of some of the horses, compiling an extended list of what they thought may be lucky bargains. Nothing like being positive. It was just as we sat down for a beer that evening when the workers at the market started reconfiguring the hurdles (movable steel fences), and for some reason, Kevin decided he would help them move one. Well, that was it. Everyone downed tools as a non-union man had tried to do their job. Our pleading that he was just trying to be helpful; not very, as Kevin was not the strongest person, fell on deaf ears. Rather than de-escalating the situation, it quickly got out of hand, with the threat of a full walkout and the development of a full-blown labour dispute, putting the sales in jeopardy. Of course, under some obscure job description, these workers were the only ones who could work at the venue. We had to leave the venue and let management try to resolve the problem, which they did after about two very tense hours of negotiation.

Me with our Australian racehorse. I cannot even remember its name.

We had the audacity to attend the sale, and despite failing to purchase any of the horses on Kevin and Vanessa's list, we bought one more out of desperation to do so, rather than need. Luckily, for not a lot of money and the horse ate happily for the rest of the year before failing dismally on the racecourse. We did visit it a couple of times in the paddock, but I never saw it in training, let alone at the racetrack—one of the many illogical things I have been involved in.

Towards the end of 1998, John Knight, the now senior partner at Ernst and Young (E&Y), after he left with the Coopers and Lybrand team to merge with E&Y, kept suggesting to me to consider consultancy as another income stream. He thought my network in farming would assist with this, although any opportunities we explored were outside of Zimbabwe. That only came about in 1999. However, the seeds were sown, and following a meeting in Harare with the then Minister of Agriculture from Mozambique, my friend John Meikle, from Penalonga, who was already farming and mining in Mozambique, offered to host a group of us. He did so a couple of times, and this time, Neville Baker from Middle Sabi, Alan McGregor, and I went across the border for a scoping visit. There was no doubt the Mozambican government wanted to revitalise their agricultural industry, which had died at Independence with the confiscation of the Portuguese nationals' land, many Mozambican, however being white, as was to happen in Zimbabwe, were to be labelled as foreigners and could not own the land. In fact, in Mozambique, it was any business or property including residences that were taken. We visited John’s Burley tobacco unit, run by his partner at the time, the late Malcolm Clyde-Wiggins, and some of the farms available in both Sussendenga and north of Chimoio. John was very keen for us to join him down there, but both Neville and I had our reservations. While the Government claimed to want us, even with the local Governor hosting us to a meal in an attempt to sell us on the idea, they had no idea how to do it. 

“In Africa, without exception, national politicians want, but rarely want to give. In the rare event they do, they then feel it is their right to share what you have been given or obtained, even if provided by a third party or your own funds.” - Peter McSporran

Our first scoping trip to Mozambique. Neville Baker, front left, John Meikle, front right, at Casa Msika, Chicamba.

The banks certainly did not have the will or the expertise to lend to farmers; default was huge in their banks. Furthermore, at that stage, there were no agricultural suppliers, either of capital or inputs, other than Seed Co, which had invested in Cemac but was regretting that by then. Maybe if we ran an outgrower scheme, which we were not inclined to do, donors would offer something. Land title was also a problem, it was leased from Government, but unlike in Zambia leases could not be transferred or sold, they reverted back to Government meanwhile any improvements would remain yours. Who would buy them if built on somebody else’s property, especially in this case; Government. Donor funding, as I learned in my travels around Africa, was very hard for a white commercial farmer to obtain, so funding and security of tender was a problem. The climate was also a concern, too hot I thought for flue cured tobacco, John’s Burley (air-cured) was light but despite this it looked good and that maize could be grown successfully in the area. From what we could see the area was very productive back in Portuguese times, not so now with all the infrastructure destroyed. We returned to Zimbabwe with few answers and many questions but it was to prove to be the first of my many scoping trips I took around Africa looking for opportunities.

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