Scatterings of Africa

I poured Gill a comforting glass of red wine and settled back in my chair, mouth agape, listening to her recent adventures in Nigeria. Uncle Paul and Gill were part of a group of 15 farmers who are going to pioneer the farming frontiers in the Niger Delta. They have acquired land and sizeable loans from the Nigerians who seem more than anxious that Zimbabwean Farmers should now be Nigerian Farmers and made to feel at home.

According to Paul, Nigeria imports absolutely everything from milk to wheat and they think with the help of their new farmers all this will soon change. Gill told me that they are treated like visiting royalty and a special luxury bus is laid on to transport them to their newly acquired farms, loaded with hooch and very nice things to eat. Apparently the bus takes off down the highway at an incredible speed, weaving wildly through the traffic and if a car gets in its way the bus nudges it off the road as it has the right of way. My goodness, I expostulated, choking on my vino, you must have to cling on for dear life. Oh no! said Gill nonchalantly, we hardly feel a thing inside the bus. I must say a picture came to mind, of a busload of wide eyed farmers. hanging on to their seats rigid with terror, while the bus lurched from side to side with cars hurtling off the highway.

Only a week before Uncle Paul's visit ,Pat and I had been watching CNN half asleep when suddenly Nigeria was mentioned. We sat up with interest. A map appeared on the screen with an arrow pointing to a place which seemed very close to Uncle Paul's new location. Then to our absolute horror and dismay, sixteen unkempt and very shabbily dressed men, brandishing sticks and visibly upset, declared war on the Nigerian government. It all looked so familiar had the war vets moved to the Niger Delta. I pointed this out to Uncle Paul but he dismissed it with a vague shrug. Mind you, after what we have all gone through in the last four years what are 16 half starved men with a couple of sticks, I could probably over power them myself.

We then covered kidnapping which seemed rather prevalent in Nigeria but they hadn't heard of anybody being kidnapped recently. I was wondering at what point of the conversation we should voice our concern but I didn't want to dampen their enthusiasm, so kept unnaturally quiet and took another sip of wine. I thought Pat and I were fairly intrepid starting business in Chimoio but now realized we looked like couple of naffs compared to Paul and Gill. Its so exciting, will Nigeria be our next family Christmas destination?. 

Anyway enough about Nigeria and lets get back to Mozambique, instead of joining Janee Clegg and friends, on a wild birding week in Catapu which I now deeply regret, I went in search of paprika land. Tony Silva phoned to tell me he had found a farm in Catendica which he thought would be absolutely perfect for paprika production and would I go and look at it. Tony who is 73 is more than amazing and a real character with boundless energy. I persuaded Nick Wiggins (an ex farmer from Tengwe) to accompany me so he could lend his expertise to the exercise. Pat left earlier as he was moving horses over the border, but before he ran out the door, he did call cheerily over his shoulder that the Landrover was using a lot of oil, something to do with a turbo and to take a re -supply. What he failed to mention was that the bolts had been removed from the back seats of the car and sent to Mutare as samples, so the seats were not secured. We picked up Tony who was as sprightly as ever and looking forward to his trip. Nick fortunately took the wheel with Tony next to him and I opted for the back seat. Just as well, because when Nick braked to avoid a goat I was almost catapulted through the windscreen. I slammed into the back of Tony's chair slightly winded but fortunately Tony was having such an animated discussion with Nick about gold mines he hardly noticed.

Not long into our journey Nick stabbed a finger at the Landrover dials and turned to look at me with concern. The oil light has come on!! We stopped and poured 5 litres of oil into the Landrover but it was still on low. Where does the oil go? said Nick looking bewildered as there was no evident sign of a leak. Nick's expression went from bewilderment to shock and then genuine disbelief during the course of the day. The Landrover's appetite for oil was insatiable and we must have bought out Catendica's oil supplies and their reserves. Even Tony was peering in the bonnet scratching his head in alarm. We had to reassure him he wouldn't be spending the night at the Catendica Hotel.

We eventually bumped our way to the farm and stopped to find the Chief to pay our respects. He was running an interesting distillery making something really nasty and dangerous out of maize. Nick and I stiffened with horror as we viewed the filthy water collected in hollowed trees, which was filtered through a dirty rag into a clay pot. This indeed must be what they call the evil Kachaas. We were not invited to sample it which was a great relief. The farm bordering a crystal clear river, once belonged to Peter and Vicky Bowen. They had grown potatoes but the camp lay abandoned. I took my hat off to these early pioneers and appreciated how difficult it must have been to open these lands and to farm in such a remote area without proper financial backing, a major problem in Mozambique.

Unfortunately it was not what we were looking for but it was certainly a beautiful part of the country. On the way back we stopped in at Catendica Ranches and admired an impressive paprika crop under centre pivot and were amazed by what had been achieved on this farm in such a short period of time. You have to take your hat off to Zimbabwean farmers they are the best. Stopping off in Manica I coincidentally bumped into Vicky Bowen whose farm we had just looked at, she was her usual cheerful and cheeky self and greeted me with a wide grin. She had just passed Noma perched on top of the horse lorry fighting with Mozambican customs, but had seen no sign of Pat. The reason being we later found out, he was unable to collect his passport from the visa office in time so Noma and Gayds had to take immediate control of horse transportation.. What is Peter doing now? I asked enquiring after Vicky's husband as I had heard he had been stranded in no-man's land at the Malawian border and his passport had been seized. "I hope he hasn't volunteered for Iraq like all my other farming friend's husbands". " Oh No! Vicky grinned, Peter's not up for that, but I am and I have already sent off my CV"!! she looked at me proudly. She then looked slightly crestfallen and shook her head sadly, but I haven't had a reply yet." Do you know what!!, she was absolutely serious!!! There is no doubt we Zimbo's are a unbelievable crazy bunch!!!.

Mandy Retzlaff
Bvumba
Zimbabwe

This email is dedicated to Roy Bennet who is now in jail under the most terrible conditions. Our love and prayers are with Heather and Roy and the family. This is a very grave injustice but Roy is a hero to most Zimbabweans and he will survive. Love to you all Mandy Retzlaff

P.S. My last email story about visiting Micky and Sylvia's farm and the Geologist, was lost in cyberspace due to a virus. If anyone did receive it can you send back to me so it can be resent.