My grandfather, Mantshontsho was a successiful farmer. On his 700 hectare farm in Mazviwa, 50km south of the Asbestos mining town of Zvishavane, He farmed almost anything. From cattle ranching to mealies, it was always a bumper harvest. Each year brought its challenges though, like the long droughts of the early 80s, to foot and mouth diseases, it was a marvel how he managed to soldier on. As the iron or mining town of Buchwa boomed, so did his firewood business. Just before his death in 1983, he called me to change my name to Peter from Prosperity which had given people on the farm a hard time with pronunciation. It is at this moment I believe, without me knowing, he was transferring his farming prowess to me. I was still very young to understand much when he died. I had not even started school. I could have looked after a cow or two, learnt a few farming skills here and there but that was not enough to transform me into the commercial farmer I am trying to be. Then, much of farm implements were ox drawn, though he had a small tractor that always coughed now and then as if it was catching flu from the human inhabitants of the farm. But his tenacity taught me to be stubborn with ideas - to risk it all and force a win. I was about 5 when he died but I guess those who said catch them young knew what they were talking about. It's all about planting the idea in the child and leave them to choose their destiny - a clever way of instilling career discipline in the child.
After his death life became hard, we barely had anything to eat. My uncle who had taken over was barely a farmer. He was more into control than anything else and in the 26 years he presided over the farm, he never planted a thing. As is usual with such, the farm fell to its knees and then into the grave. It literally died. It was more like the movie, the Great Gatsby - such a hype of activity in the community reduced to rubble. I was happy to leave it in 1987 for the town of Zvishavane to continue with my schooling. Farming would be forgotten for a while till I entered secondary school level around 1993 and Agriculture would become a pivotal subject in my O'level certificate. In 1996, it was one of the 8 subjects I passed and I scored an A. I was good in project planning and had a distinction at this level. However, farming had never been a career choice, not by a mile. Journalism was and so in A'levels I completely veered off to do Arts subjects - Divinity, History and English Literature. These would make it possible to fulfill my journalism dream - a career path I would take across borders into South Africa at the end of 2003.
At the back of my mind however, farming always fascinated me. I would find myself searching for land both in Zimbabwe and South Africa and would have loved a farm back home. I tried to apply for one several times but the system was not really kind to my profession as a journalist - for several years as an investigative journalist at both e.tv and SABC, there was intimation within the high corridors of power in Zimbabwe that I was possibly leading the anti-Zimbabwe news desks in South Africa. Even during my abduction by the notorious Zimbabwe Central Intelligence in 2007, officials in the South African government had been told I had been arrested on possible suspicion of being a British and American spy. Of-course this was ridiculous. I have always been my own man, nobody handles me. I handle me. If I was a spy I would be spying for myself - these are the life lessons I throw to my son - make yourself the man you wanna be boy. The only way you can be what you want is to be assertive and be hard to yourself. Never tire to look for those happy places professionally and the ultimate pinnacle for the independent thinker is to be your own boss.
Around 2012, I was engulfed by the urge to farm. It was out of nowhere. I just felt I needed to farm something. In my head was chickens but it got refined later as I was to start something different on the bigger scale. I wanted to export Zimbabwe vegetables down South. There was no chance of getting land back home, so I had to do with what was there. On weekends I would drive to Delmas and surrounds to see and scout for farms. I had last farmed in secondary school almost two decades back - it was just school projects but here I was trying to start farming. There was no plan. I just felt I needed to farm something. a plant had to go into the soil...
to be continued...
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