Medical. Travel Times, an Indication that a ‘Chef’ was interested in Diandra Farm and an Unexpected Drug Event.

Rain promised next week meanwhile burning sunsets persit

A quick medical update as I have been silent on this for a few months now, so lucky. Next week I go and get my heart stopped to try and correct the arrhythmia, although the specialist thinks it may not last. I had this done before, but it returned; they are happy to give it another go. You are in and out of the hospital in about six hours. The following week I am also heading to the hospital, this time for surgery to try and mitigate my incontinence. As this had taken some time following the surgeon's request for a slot, we were offered the choice of going private, which they would have paid for. After discussing with our GP, since it was not urgent, I decided to wait for my regular urological surgeon, who knew all my other complications. No guarantee this will work, but at least they are willing to try. I cannot have a more reliable electrical control valve, as the power pack would need to be placed in my lower abdomen, which, due to my cancer, they do not want to do.

As John Knight and I continued to pursue international consultancies in Africa, I became increasingly aware that, as an ex-farmer, I would have great difficulty winning one large enough to support my needs, let alone cover Ernst and Young costs. What also became more apparent in my travels was that the real money in consultancy was more like high-level company structural work or processes and marketing rather than production, such as in hospital management, utility management, agricultural marketing, veterinary and environmental policies, even health and safety, often featured, as did training and for me, a new phrase, ‘Value Chains.’ Rare opportunities in advising an active agricultural venture, if privately owned or commercial. In 2000, I travelled to most countries in Eastern Africa, mainly because they had, at one time or another, been British colonies. Many officials and business owners could speak English, which helped me better understand the laws and business culture, as Zimbabwean law is based on a mix of English and Roman-Dutch.  Much of the consultancy work I encountered in African agriculture was related to small-scale projects, social impact, environmental initiatives, and the dreaded value chains, most of which would never be implemented. I doubt if the producers of these studies expected them to be read, much less enacted on. Many had the bulk of their content generated by a modern tool to me, which was simple ‘cut, stick, and paste’. There was little danger in being discovered in doing this, as foreign governments nearly always funded the studies as aid or NGOs, who would have little knowledge of the subject matter themselves, let alone the practical outputs required. Nor for that matter, did the target organisation, which would also be unlikely to read, at least at a senior level. Some lowly functionaries in a ministry would be asked to review and produce some queries to show a false interest. After all, implementation would require funds they did not have. In some ways, if you could find an entry, consultancy was a money-making paradise for the unscrupulous, funded by third parties with aid money or donor funds desperate to ‘get money out the door’. As a farmer looking from the outside, it appeared to be reserved for the international organisations and as I was later to find, environmental studies to support foreign-funded projects.

“In the donor and NGO world there is an unsaid rule; employ those you know and have done similar work, no matter how poor, to safeguard your reputation. They know the game, so to speak.” - Peter McSporran

The late, as always, smiling, Stewart Hargreaves

I remember one day, when visiting Stuart Hargreaves, he being the Director of Veterinary Services of Zimbabwe; I mentioned that I was thinking of getting into consultancy. He laughed and pointed to a wall covered with shelves laden with files, which he informed me were studies done by consultants on the Zimbabwean beef industry. Many funded by the EU on Foot and Mouth strategies and marketing of beef into Europe. Few of which the Government had read let alone acted on, he at least tried to take it seriously. In saying that the EU did help with his salary and paid for the Foot and Mouth fence, which was at a least positive. It was quite unusual, but naturally driven by him to ensure it was done to enable beef exports, and the wire was purchased and used instead of another four by four for Government staff to visit a beer hall in the rural areas. 

I also learned in my travels that being shown glossy pictures of agricultural projects did not mean they were actual projects; more likely they probably had never got off the ground, just a concept, nor was the funding in place to implement them beyond the proposal presentation or this marketing piece of ‘bumpf’. The colour brochures were primarily intended for NGOs and Government employees to raise additional funds for their own benefit. In essence, a marketing tool for themselves, not the said project. They had little to do with development, let alone promotion of commercial agricultural projects. Ernst and Young offered me the use of their offices in the various countries I travelled to and, where possible, introductions to Ministries and agricultural-related businesses. Many other than Kenya, said they would like to have some displaced Zimbabwean farmers, after all there is plenty of land. Land there was, but was it accessible? Not such an easy answer for them to provide. It soon became clear to me that, aside from Zambia and Kenya, agriculture in most other East and Central African countries was either state-owned or controlled by multinational organisations, and those now under the ownership of ex-management due to disinvestment by the parent company. 

As the land invasions increased, John and I started talking about finding opportunities for ex-farmers who were being displaced from their land in Zimbabwe. That is commercial farmers. After several unsuccessful trips looking for consultancies and building a network of contacts, I decided to return to those countries most likely to offer opportunities for farmers. The main criteria in establishing a commercial farmer in an African country were: 

1. Will he be accepted by the government and locals? Governments nearly always say do not worry about the locals. One of the biggest misconceptions I learned. 

2. Is there land with title, either lease or freehold, available? They had difficulty understanding that to borrow money, you have to have security of tenure. Further, security was utmost on the minds of displaced farmers. 

3. Are there sources of finance, is there even a banking system?. 

4. Are the climate and soils suitable for the type of planned production? 

5. Is there electrical power and water available? 

6. Is the land even accessible by vehicle? 

7. Are there service and supply industries, all of which were taken for granted in Zimbabwe? 8. Last and not least, is there a market for the product? 

I attended many meetings with politicians who promised anything we wanted. This one was in Chimio, Mozambique, with the Governor of Manica. John Meikle and Alan McGregor were in attendance.

There are many more peripheral requirements, but if the preceding list has one negative best to walk away. If all the boxes for the previous could be ticked then it would be worth following up on them. So once again, I took off over a couple of months to Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, the DRC, Mozambique, Malawi, and finally Zambia. In these early trips, I made the mistake of listening to the false promises of the politicians, mainly Ministers of Agriculture or their minions, many at the most senior level. All men, I do not think in the early stages I met one female representative. All, except Kenya, told me they would love to have the Zimbabwean farmer with their skills in their country. However, as conversations progressed, it became apparent they had no idea what was required. They mostly thought all you required was land, and we could turn the fields to gold. It did not take me long to understand the main incentive to them in being helpful was perhaps there would be ‘something in it for me’. 

Sometimes I get nostalgic and think of my island childhood. This is Ben More viewed from our side of Loch-na-Keal on Mull

These scooping missions occupied most of my time for the rest of 2000, during which I also had lengthy discussions with the invaders, or so-called ‘warvets.’ We all did this, to be proven, worthless dialogue, in our efforts in trying to retain the farms. Despite still not being designated, my farms, Mede and Rydal, had an active presence, and our labour had to attend almost nightly ‘Pungwes.’ I got my first inkling that Diandra had been earmarked by some ‘chef’ from two incidents. The first was returning to Diandra after a trip. I found structures in the form of poles covered with polythene had been erected in the lands on either side of the entrance road. Shit, I thought here we go only to discover the next day, without a word they disappeared leaving the structures behind. What was going on I asked myself, someone with power must have told them to move. Not long after that Pete Drummond rolled up on the farm. He farmed on the other side of the Darwendale dam from me and while I was at the Commercial Farmers Union (CFU) he was one of those who were struggling in their endeavours. This had now changed, he was a successful chicken farmer and with a college built adjacent to his property I presumed he was selling plots for houses. It was an ideal site on a ridge overlooking the dam. Whatever, I was also sure, like many successful people in Zimbabwe, he had strong political connections, how strong I did not know. Anyway, I was surprised to see him despite knowing him for many years. He had never previously visited me. He wanted to talk and suggested we drive down to the dam. Leaning on my boundary gate, unknown to him, he suggested I give up some of my land and get a local (meaning chef) partner. After all, he said, pointing to the land between us and the dam, you have all this land. That, I stated, was already state land, our boundary being at the one thousand year flood level. They were very conservative in the old days. Oh he said, but I could still share. I asked how I share my barns, my house, my business. Others had suggested this to me in the past but this time I had an inkling Peter was an envoy for someone important. I told him I was not interested; the land belonged to my ex-wife. A month or so later, I bumped into him again, at a party in Kate and Francois de Pfyffer’s home in Nyabira. Kate was my late good friend Peter Horsman’s daughter. We continued with our disagreement there. I remember the evening well, not because of my argument with Pete, but an event that caught me completely by surprise. I can remember, as I was wanting to lose some weight as always, I was drinking red wine. I would say a fairly copious amount when I suddenly got peckish and started eating some pizza-like thing from an outside table. I was outside as Pete was inside. Sharing the pizza, bite for bite, with de Pfyffer’s black labrador. I started to feel very lightheaded, and then I noticed the dog lost its footing and seemed to be having a seizure. Kate ran over and asked, “What have you done to my dog?” “Nothing.” I said, “Other than just sharing the pizza with him.” “Oh my God”, she says, “Do you not know someone has sprinkled hash on the pizza, hash which was seemingly found on a beach in Mozambique?” I wondered how you would recognise a block of black substance on a beach as hash. I certainly would not have been able to do so. I gulped. The most drugs I ever had previously were a few puffs of Lady Daphne's weed to try; this was a totally different ball game. I set off for home immediately. Of course, it was stupid, but home is a sanctuary, and I was shocked that my car started to sink through the tar. It was even worse on the dirt road, but I did get home. Since then, I have hated pizza ever since, nor have I knowingly taken drugs other than medically prescribed ones.

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