November 18 A typical colonial Sunday afternoon tea party - the sort of thing I deluded myself into believing might be served throughout Africa: four different cakes including pumpkin pie and a creamy sponge; tea or coffee with milk and sugar; the kind of generous hospitality that is so valued by the traveller. Three white African couples, all farmers, are meeting after church to talk about the harvest, their plans for the future, and the imminent arrival of fresh livestock.
But my hosts are no ordinary farmers on an ordinary farm. Three years ago Dan and Jenny Swart were helping to make Zimbabwe live up to its soubriquet as ‘the bread basket of Africa’. That was before Robert Mugabe’s thugs, risibly known as the ‘war veterans’, moved in and threw them off their farm with just enough time to pack a few things and leave before things got ugly.
Their farm was taken over by an army general with no farming experience who, bizarrely, hired a Chinese manager to run the operation. It is estimated the current production is at around 15% of the Swart’s output.
After some time treading water in the Zimbabwe capital Harare, the governor of Kwara state in Nigeria, hearing of their plight, decided to introduce commercial farming in his state. Who better to call on than some recently dispossessed farmers with the knowledge, expertise and know-how that was lacking amongst his rural communities. It is thought that Mugabe responded to the offer angrily by claiming Nigeria was stealing his farmers.
The Nigeria experiment is a pilot project that is attracting attention from other Nigerian states and from other African countries. Thirteen Zimbabwean families have now started a new life thousands of miles from the lives they knew but still on the continent they love. Astonishingly, they still have ambition, drive and the will to succeed even though everything they worked a lifetime to achieve was taken from them on the whim of an African dictator.
It is astounding how much Dan and Jenny have achieved in three years. They have cleared and planted 1,000 hectares of mainly cassava and maize, with bananas and mangos, and will soon begin producing fresh milk at the dairy Dan is building from scratch – the first in the region – when the cattle arrive. They also have a comfortable home, which they built, from where they entertain passing bikers.
The previous evening I had turned up at their door in darkness with the lame introduction of: “I’m travelling through Africa meeting people for tea. Some people I met in Mali suggested I visit you.” The words sounded ridiculous as they came out and I now cringe to think of it.
But 30 seconds later I had a beer in my hand and an offer to do my laundry. It was a reflection of how I must have looked: soaked through from the sweat of the day’s ride and covered in sand after two offs, one high speed, on the track up to their farm.
Dan said: “Don’t worry. We’ll sort you out. Come in and sit down, I’m just watching the rugby.”
Two hours before arriving I had read an email from the African Surfers (who are travelling in the opposite direction to the African Brew Ha Ha) who had spent a few days with some of the Zim farmers a few weeks before. Their email gave approximate directions to the nearest village, Shonga.
The inquisitive man beside me in the cyber café looked over my shoulder and said: “I know where Shonga is.”
It seemed a good omen.
“Come. I will show you the junction for the Shonga road.”
He immediately stood up, leaving his girlfriend who was waiting patiently for him, and lead the way.
“It is maybe one hour.” He guessed.
And it was a guess. With stops for fuel and to ask directions, wrong turns and the two offs it took me more than two hours to reach the farm. But I’m so pleased I did.
Advice: Jenny Swart - “Don’t believe everything you hear.”
Advice: Judy Hatty - “Keep the spontraneity.”
November 9 If you ever wondered how far it actually was From Here To Tomboctou (as it is spelled in this parish), I am now in a position to say.
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