Chongologo by Words by Design

Chongololo

About the Author Andrew Tuckey and his family emigrated to Southern Rhodesia after the Second World War. His father bought land which he turned into a successful tobacco farm. Andrew and his two brothers were educated there, did national service then returned to the UK. Andrew trained as a chartered accountant before working for 40 years as a merchant banker. He serves on the board of several companies and continues his life-long involvement in the performing arts - in opera, ballet and theatre. Chongololo is his first novel inspired by his childhood in Africa and was written during lockdown. Andrew lives with his family in Wiltshire.

Chongololo

Andrew Tuckey

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www.wordsbydesign.co.uk The right of Andrew Tuckey to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying. In the UK such licences are issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1P 9HE. Further copies of this book, as well as details of other publications and services, are available from www.wordsbydesign.co.uk

Cover illustrated by Henry Hawksworth

The chongololo is a black millipede found in southern Africa particularly Zimbabwe. About 5 inches long with 70 body parts and 280 feet managing their motion by moving their limbs forward in groups of six pairs at a time. When threatened they curl up in a tight ball.

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Chapter 1

ames Treadwell had no idea that the offer to spend a post university sojourn on a farm in Zimbabwe would determine the course of his life. It was an exciting prospect and a world away from his somewhat cocooned Home Counties upbringing. The fact that his parents were distinctly lukewarm about the idea, preferring that he buckle down to a serious career, only increased his determination. Being a student of history with a methodical mind he prepared himself by reading extensively about the country. He was fascinated by the life of Cecil Rhodes – not just the founder of Rhodesia but also the principal benefactor of Oriel College at Oxford just down the road from his own college. Once the hero of southern Africa contemporary history was less admiring of Rhodes and his deeds now more associated with ruthless colonial exploitation. No matter, whatever, he was undoubtedly the driving force in delivering much of southern Africa to British rule: developing and commercialising the riches of diamonds and gold. His vision to build a railway from Cape to Cairo was typical of Victorian ambition and sad that the railway had only reached the Zambezi River by the time of his death. The massive wealth he accumulated now provide the funding for Rhodes Scholars to Oxford, probably the most prestigious scholarship of its kind in the world. James’s life in Africa was nearly short-lived. After a 24hour journey from London, feeling tired, hungry and covered in dust from the bumpy ride on dirt potholed roads, he was just beginning his unpacking when a large cobra slithered out from under the bed, raised its swaying head and, puffing out its cheeks and darting its black tongue, advanced

towards him with menacing intent. James was completely terrified and fled the room shouting for help at the top of his voice. His cries were heeded by the garden boy working nearby who rushed to arm himself with a long stick with a fork at the end and entering the room advanced towards the creature without any sign of fear. The snake by this time had retreated again under the bed. With much shouting and a few well aimed prods the snake broke cover and in a flash was pinioned to the floor by the fork end of the stick. Without a moment’s hesitation Jackson, the gardener took hold of the snake with one hand just behind the head and carried it aloft and with much hissing and writhing tossed it into a luxuriant flower bed in the garden accompanied by a loud volley of abuse. James could not understand a word of what was being said including ‘Ino nyoka mompara’ addressed directly to him – meaning ‘this snake is wicked’. James was in no position to disagree and was too shocked to ask why the snake was not killed and what would follow next when he returned to his room. He soon learnt that one of the essentials of living in rural Africa was to look out for snakes when entering a room and always to tip up shoes before wearing against the possibility of confronting a deadly scorpion. However, it was a rule of this house that no animal, reptile or insect was to be killed unless the preservation of life was at stake. James had an impeccable and unthreatened start to his life. Born in London, the son of a partner in a ‘magic circle’ law firm he was educated at the Dragon, Radley College and Christ Church Oxford passing effortlessly through the upper echelons of academia. His mother had been a successful advertising executive before giving up full time work to bring up her children – James being the eldest with Emma and Tom being 2 and 5 years younger respectively. The only real threat to this sublime existence came from a Classics master at Radley who made persistent and increasingly forceful advances to James under the pretext of widening his outlook with a more classical Greek experience! Eventually the master in question was reported by another boy and tactfully guided out of the teaching profession.

Not particularly good looking but being tall, well dressed and invariably charming, James could pass muster in any society. Life was easy and although not a particularly social animal, James had a wide group of friends accumulated from school and university. But he really came of age during the tough hard-working months spent on a tobacco farm in Zimbabwe during his ‘gap’ year taken, unusually, after university rather than before. Plans to take a break after school had been shelved when he was offered a place at Christ Church. During his work on the farm he grew to love Africa. The estate where he was based was huge – 15,000 acres divided into three separate farms located 100 miles north of Harare in the northern part of Mvurwi. One of the few white owned farms not to be ‘repossessed’ by agents of the Mugabe government, Easter Estate was owned by a German family who had lived there for two generations. It was commonly believed that the German government had an agreement with Robert Mugabe whereby both German and Austrian land owners in Zimbabwe were spared his fierce confiscation regime and it was a subject of much speculation about what had been offered in return. From the moment he stepped off the plane in Harare he was enraptured by the magic of the African bush – the distinctive call of the doves, the chorus of chirping crickets, the crackling of dry vegetation as game searches desperately for shade with the approach of the midday sun. The cacophony of the morning that quickly subsides into silence as nature bows to the heat of the day, only to spring again to life in the evening in anticipation of the glorious sunset to follow. Standing on a dam wall on the farm, refreshed by a cold Castle beer and accompanied by a noisy chorus of frogs, James found watching the sunset an exhilarating experience. In Africa the final moments of the setting sun are fast as the great ball of fire quickly sinks over the horizon. Within seconds it is dark… and soon very dark. During these treasured moments and before the light fades the dam is alive with activity. A crocodile, having slept soundly throughout the day on the banks of the dam with its mouth wide open to cool its body, begins to stir and as thoughts turn to food it slides silently into the water in search

of prey. Wary impala, risking all, sneak a final drink before scampering off into the bush for the night. Very occasionally a buffalo would appear at the water’s edge noisily quenching its thirst before also retreating into the bush. Everyone’s right to drink is respected under the laws of the bush. But woes betide any slip up at the water’s edge: one false move and the crocodile with a flip of its giant tail will sweep an unsuspecting animal into the water to be locked in the creature’s large jaws and after a great deal of thrashing in the water taken down first for storage and later, when rotten, for consumption. In days gone by this activity might also have included elephants but the poaching for ivory in the years following independence in Zimbabwe greatly reduced the elephant population. Likewise, lion and leopard were also rarely seen having been hunted down to protect the cattle on the farm. James never tired of this sight and even the orderly patrol of Matabele black ants, each carrying a load several times their weight, as they scurried their way through the sand on the dam wall, fascinated him. But more than anything else he enjoyed watching a chongololo making its way with its thousands of tiny legs working in perfect harmony to propel it forward. Whenever he thought about Zimbabwe the sight of a scurrying chongololo came to mind. Fritz (always referred to as Fred) and Greta Pitzner were generous hosts and treated James as one of the family. Fred’s grandparents had emigrated from Germany to Southern Rhodesia after the First World War buying the first of their farms in 1920 – the others were to follow during the depression in the 1930s. Although in the early days the Pitzners were viewed with some suspicion they gradually immersed themselves into the community, made many friends and their children became indistinguishable from other Europeans living in the area. Fred was educated at REPS (Rhodes Estate Preparatory School) and Plumtree the leading senior school in the country both based in Matabeleland. This was followed by four years in England, mostly spent at Cirencester the agricultural college. He returned to work alongside his father in 1975. The authorities in Southern Rhodesia were unsure what to do with the Pitzners once hostilities commenced in the

Second World War, but after a few weeks of uncertainty and with strong local support, took the view that they were sufficiently indigenised not to be placed under any restrictions. This was a potentially sensitive issue as many young Rhodesians went to Europe to fight for the Allies against Germany. Fred met Greta in South Africa on his return from England and after a whirlwind romance they married. Fred’s stay in England had left him a strong anglophile and it was through a close friend, Tim Bosworth who was studying at Oxford while Fred was at Cirencester, that James Treadwell was offered a post university job on the Pitzner estate. Reading modern history at Oxford James had acquired a strong interest in the colonisation of Africa and enthusiastically took up the offer. The Pitzner farmhouse was most unusual – built on the site of a cluster of mud huts which had been the family home for many years. Originally it was a camp site when the farm was started, then upgraded to a semicircle of thatched mud huts directly facing the Umvukwe hills. Each hut was loosely joined to the next ensuring with a quick sprint it was possible to walk from one hut to another without getting wet during a storm. The view was stunning. Having become so used to the semicircle configuration when a grand new house was built in the 1970s it followed the line of the huts creating a crescent shape with a grass courtyard at its centre. It was a large single-story building and the farm workers spent many days cutting grass in the valleys to thatch its roof. The thatch ensured the house was always cool even in the summer months and during the wet season the gentle sound of rain on the roof at night was the perfect tonic for sleep. Just as impressive was the garden. This was Greta’s preserve. She greatly admired English country gardens and through studying books and talking to other gardeners, she used this as her inspiration. The centre piece was a magnificent lawn in front of the house encircled by flower beds displaying a profusion of colour drawn from local flowers – those which flourished in the warm climate. At the back of the house she created a vegetable garden which amply supplied the household and others working on the farm. The vegetable garden was enclosed within a passion

fruit (referred to as granadilla) hedge. Perhaps the highlight was a large mulberry tree beside the kitchen which in the fruiting season delivered a massive crop. Citrus trees were dotted about the grounds and in the winter months when other plants were subdued, oranges and grapefruit provided a glorious patchwork of colour set against the dark green leaves and diamond blue sky. Also, behind the house growing near the water tank which supplied the house was a small plantation of bananas and a few mango trees. Fred Pitzner was more than just a farmer. In the late 1970s and 1980s he invested in a wide range of projects including other farms, hotels and mines and by the time James arrived on the Easter Estate the Pitzner empire made Fred one of the most powerful European entrepreneurs in the country. Although the Zimbabwean economy had been ravaged by the Mugabe government’s disastrous economic policies, Fred saw this as more of an opportunity than a threat astutely keeping well clear of politics and cultivating good relationships across the various factions within the black elite. His holding company Harvest was listed on the local stock exchange and in terms of market value was amongst the largest. Beneath the charm and charisma, Fred was hard working, had an iron will and not easily diverted from a task once he had made up his mind – this fierce determination deeply etched on his square jawed face. Fred and Greta had no children of their own which at least partially accounted for his strong commitment to building a business empire and explained their parental affection towards James. The Pitzners supported many charitable causes and two schools on the estate which they built and funded for the benefit of their workers were high class institutions and Fred took enormous pride in the academic results which were achieved. Of note was the son of his tractor driver who won a scholarship to Cape Town University after completing his studies on the farm and was a candidate for a Rhodes scholarship. Like other farmers the Pitzners frowned on any suggestions of hunting wild game, which had been a serious preoccupation between the wars, and devoted increasing attention to preservation. They built new dams and waterholes, fenced off areas of the estate for grazing and

rigidly patrolled against poaching. By the time James arrived it was possible to go on a ‘game drive’ following rough tracks with the expectation of seeing a good selection of animals in the wild particularly impala, but giraffe and warthog as well. On those areas of the estate bordering on the Umsengedzi River, a direct tributary of the Zambezi, there were plenty of hippos particularly in the wet season. Greta was an acknowledged expert on birds and took delight in identifying the species – a vast selection rich in colour and sound. Gone were the days when farmers hunted game and killed indiscriminately. Old Rhodesia hands would regale James with tales of the hunts which took place on their farms – stories usually embellished by several cold Castle beers thirstily gulped down as they relaxed on their verandas in the setting sun. Worst of all was the annual baboon hunt, where a group of farmers from the district would drive the poor creatures into the hills until they were trapped in the kopjes, would then turn to face their hunters who would decimate them with rifle fire like advancing troops in the battle of the Somme. Worse still was the tale of one farmer who devised a system of dispersing the baboon tribe from his land by capturing a baboon shaving it, painting its body bright yellow, tying metal cans to its legs and then releasing it back into the tribe. So, horrified by what they saw and the clanking noise they heard the tribe fled at high speed onto the neighbouring property pursued by the poor creature desperate to re-join its family. Baboons inflict great damage on tobacco (and other crops) by pulling up the plants and sucking the roots. Each plant is only chewed momentarily then cast aside then another pulled from the ground. Leopards being very partial to baboon were protected and declared ‘Royal Game’ in the hope they would shrink the population. Dogs on the other hand, who fancy their chances against a baboon, usually underestimate the size and power of their fangs and come off second best. Apart from his interest in Africa, James was attracted to the idea of a year off before buckling down to a career by his great uncertainty on what to do with his life. In his final year at Oxford he had done the usual ‘milk round’ and received offers from firms of accountants, lawyers and a couple in

investment banks but he was unsure and not ready to decide. Perhaps, he thought, Africa would help clear his mind. And so, it did. Life on the farm began at first light with a strong beating rhythm on the ‘ngoma’ – a large drum with ox hide stretched across its top. Half an hour later the workers would assemble in the yard to receive instructions on the tasks for the day ahead. In view of its long distances the workers were transported in an old lorry to different parts of the estate. In the early days of his stay James always went in the lorry and soon learnt to join in the loud singing as the vehicle bumped its way along the dusty farm tracks. It also familiarised him with Shona and, having a good ear for languages, he soon picked a useful selection of phrases and expressions. James’s daily tasks included organising the labour, especially during the busy reaping season – a long day picking the ripened leaves, transporting them back to the farm buildings and then loading the barns for curing. He quickly developed a good relationship with the African farm workers who appreciated his polite understated manner and the evident enthusiasm and interest he showed. James was always kept busy and as Fred’s confidence in him grew he took on a wide variety of tasks both as part of farming and in the office work which went with it. Greta ensured the kitchen staff always provided James with a picnic breakfast which he took with him in the morning and would enjoy later relaxing under the shade of a Msasa tree – invariably attended by the two large Rhodesian ridgebacks which the family owned. As Fred’s business empire expanded it was no longer possible to manage this from the farm and he established an office in Harare on Fife Avenue just to the north of Harare Park conveniently accessed when driving into town from the farm. In the spring the neat row of Jacaranda trees outside the flat provided a glorious purple canopy. Fred normally expected to spend at least two days a week in Harare and noticing the interest James showed in his business would take him along. The office consisted of a chief accountant and his assistant and two secretaries which was enough for Fred to monitor and control an extensive group of businesses. He believed strongly in decentralising, allowing each subsidiary

significant freedom concentrating himself on strategy, relationships with the political elite and the management of cash. Above the office was a very comfortable flat with a livein housekeeper which allowed Fred to entertain, hold business meetings and avoid the need to stay in a hotel when in town. Managing relationships in Zimbabwe was a delicate task ensuring you were close enough to the political elite to know what was going on but not too close and so be dragged into the corrupt inner circle. In this finesse Fred was a complete master. After the fulsome social life at Oxford, particularly in his final year, James was unconcerned by the quiet life on a remote tobacco farm. The Mvurwi Country Club, which had been the hub of sporting and social life during boom years for tobacco farming in the 60’s and 70’s, was a shadow of its former self, the golf course was unkempt, the tennis courts overgrown with weeds and the bar infrequently attended by the few remaining white farmers who invariable sank into mournful nostalgia. After a few visits James stayed away knowing he was unlikely to meet any soul mates and certainly no women. He was lucky however, to encounter a young Canadian girl, Julie, from Victoria in British Columbia who was working on a near-by farm for a year as a nanny/mothers help. They became good friends, but not lovers, and James would drive over and share the baby-sitting when the parents were out. Julie was also a part time journalist and would submit monthly articles to the local newspaper in her home town in Canada. James often featured in these articles and it amused him to be characterised as a hardened farmhand wrestling with all the challenges of life in darkest Africa. Fred allowed James to take Julie to his boat on Kariba on several occasions and while he fished Julie enjoyed game watching and sketching birds – becoming adept at capturing their magnificent array of colours. Her favourite was the Kingfisher plentiful on the banks of the lake and easily identified by the brilliant and distinctive blue plumage. Likewise, the strikingly yellow weavers, who populated the river edge swaying in the breeze as their constructed their nests. He would never admit to this, but James was sexually attracted to a number of the young black women who

worked on the farm: during the grading season there was a young girl, probably no more than 16 or 17, who would sit topless on the floor helping to tie the graded tobacco leaves into ‘hands’. James could not take his eyes off her particularly the hard-pointed breasts which moved tantalisingly as she deftly handled the leaves. It was quite unthinkable that he might pursue further this desire and he had to settle for fantasising what might be the outcome of such an encounter. As James settled into life on the farm evenings were invariable spent talking about Africa. Fred was a mine of knowledge and in James he found an intelligent and infinitely curious companion, their conversations often continuing late into the night. Greta usually left them to it retiring early to bed. Fred’s starting point was that the transition from colonial rule in sub Saharan Africa could, by any objective measure, be regarded as a complete disaster. Independence had been won by championing the cause of the black majority and yet several decades later the general populous was much poorer than before and the continent was riddled with economic incompetence, rampant corruption, civil wars and in some cases rural starvation. Any economic spoils gained from independence were dished out to a favoured few closely associated with the leader. As Fred pointed out, by way of example, in the late 1950s one of the most desirable holiday destinations in southern Africa had been the Belgian Congo particularly on the shores of Lake Kivu on the eastern side of the country with river trips on the mighty Congo River and visits to the spectacular rain forest occupying much of the Congo basin. Since the collapse of Belgian colonial rule in the 1960s the country descended into complete chaos with several different warring factions in control, a President who became a selfanointed Emperor whose corruption was of breath-taking proportions and whose involvement in a civil war with neighbouring Rwanda and Burundi brought death to millions. Although much of the blame for this can be laid at the door of Belgium, who by their greed and pillage, was the worst possible coloniser, similar examples abound in other African countries: Zimbabwe being a case in point. Black majority rule under Robert Mugabe started promisingly with

a clear determination to develop a truly inclusive multi-racial state with several whites serving in his cabinet. This was not to last and after 5 years in power the Matabele loyal to Nkomo in the south had been brutally suppressed, white farms were confiscated and handed to party members, the burgeoning state sector was absorbing an increasing share of a declining economy and the country was on the brink of hyper-inflation the like of which had not been seen since the Weimar Republic. What surprised James was how calm and philosophical Fred was about all of this. He attributed the failures mostly to a lack of education. Once it became clear that all these countries would gain their independence it was imperative for the colonial governments to invest heavily in education so that when power changed hands there would be an educated and informed middle class with a vested interest in a stable and uncorrupted government. In fact, just the reverse happened with the minority white governments clinging desperately to power cutting spending on education for fear that this would arouse expectations that could not be met. The one notable attempt to move in the right direction was the creation of the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland in 1953 formed with a view to achieving a multi-racial society with strong emphasis on education. The experiment was short lived as first Nyasaland and then Northern Rhodesia agitated for full independence to which a somewhat supine British government acceded and in 1963 the Federation was dissolved. Because of this Southern Rhodesia (which had become Rhodesia) turned in on itself and in defiance of the lessons of history attempted to perpetuate white minority rule. Or as Ian Smith pronounced in one of his less prescient moments ‘never in a thousand years would there be a black majority government’ Fred of course had been fortunate that his farm had not been confiscated and with his strong commitment to education through the schools on the farm he was acting and investing consistent with his beliefs. He was patient and believed that it might take a generation or two but that in the end the despots would fade and democratically accountable administrations would begin to flourish. He pointed to the

progress made in West Africa, where countries had been independent for longer, and where more accountable and transparent governments had recently emerged: Ghana, which was the first British African colony to gain its independence, being a good example. Fred was also fascinated by the way (and indeed the speed) in which Europeans had adapted to the new order. Nowhere was this more evident than in South Africa where against all predictions the whites handed power to Nelson Mandela’s black government without a single shot being fired. If such a proposition had been put to the average white family in South Africa a few years earlier it would have been greeted with laughter and derision and the proposer invited to lie down until the sensation passed. The fear that haunted Fred was corruption. Many countries live with corruption on a modest scale and indeed it is widely tolerated and accepted: for example, in the fareast and south-east Asia. The problem is at the extreme which is the case in sub-Saharan Africa. A totally corrupt government becomes so mired and addicted by the diversion of resources that it eventually grinds to a halt with no process of democracy being possible for fear by the indulged that they will be hunted down by a new administration. Fred was thoroughly absorbed in following the case of Sani Abacha the former President of Nigeria who was rumoured to have stolen £5bn from the country’s coffers and he (or more particularly his family) being taken to court in several jurisdictions to recover the funds.

Chapter 2

otwithstanding their considerable wealth the Pitzners had a modest lifestyle preferring to direct their attention to the many charitable causes they supported and the schools on the farm. The only visible sign of affluence was the boat they kept on Lake Kariba on which they would spend weekends whenever their other commitments allowed. Chapungu (which means eagle in Shona) was a large house boat 25 metres in length sleeping in comfort up to 7 people attended by a permanent crew of 4 – a captain, a cook and 2 deck crew. 2 powerful speedboats were attached to the boat available to take guests to different areas of the lake. When not used by the family the boat was available for charter which helped towards its running costs and kept the crew fully employed. The building of Kariba on the mighty Zambezi River and its accompanying hydro-electric scheme was the totemic infrastructure project of the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland financed by the World Bank. The name Kariba refers to a rock which thrusts out of the swirling water at the entrance to the gorge close to the dam wall site, now buried in more than a hundred feet below the surface. According to legend this rock was the home of the great river god Nyaminyami who caused anyone who ventured near to be sucked down for eternity into the depths of the river. When the valley people heard they were to be moved from their tribal lands and the great Zambezi River blocked they believed this would anger the river god so much that the water would boil and destroy the white man’s bridge with floods. In 1957, a year into the building of the dam, the river

rose to flood levels pumping through the gorge with immense power destroying equipment and access roads. The odds against another flood in the following year were about a thousand to one – but flood it did – three metres higher than the previous year destroying the access bridge, the coffer dam and parts of the main wall. Nyaminyami had made good his threat and recaptured the gorge! Sixteen million litres of water a second passed over the wreckage – a flood which it had been calculated would happen only once in ten thousand years! Although man eventually won and the dam became fully operational in 1960, there was a whole new respect for the river god. The dam wall 37 metres high and 24 metres wide required well over a million cubic metres of concrete to sustain the pressure of 10 million litres of water passing through the spillway each second. The engineering feat of building Kariba was matched by Operation Noah a mammoth initiative to rescue wild life trapped on islands as the lake filled up with water. Nothing was too small or too large – game rangers climbed trees to capture and rescue poisonous snakes and large animals like rhino were darted, tied to blown up tractor tyres and towed through the water to higher ground. The effort was rewarded and the shores soon became heavily populated with game which can be safely viewed from a boat travelling close to the shore. In addition, the rotting vegetation provided a perfect feeding ground for fish especially bream and many visitors to the lake, including Fred Piztner, are avid fishermen. More challenging than the bream are the tiger fish found particularly at the entrance to rivers running into the lake – this creature with a large jaw and fearsomely sharp teeth puts up a stern battle with the angler, dashing at speed through the water rapidly changing direction as it attempts to cast off the hook. Unlike bream however, which are delicious to eat, the tiger fish has no place on the dinner table its tough grizzly flesh being quite inedible. James loved his visits to Kariba. Fred invariably arranged a private plane to fly at first light from Harare to a strip at Bumi Hills on the edge of the Matusadona game reserve on the southern shore of the lake. Chapunga, with its smiling captain and his crew armed with a full English breakfast,

were only five minutes away. There was no better way to view game and by gently cruising up the lake close to the shore – herds of elephant and buffalo were always in sight and the gnarled dead trees protruding from the water providing the perfect perch for a variety of birds of prey most notably the giant fish eagle. In the early days after its completion it was possible and safe to swim in the lake but with the growth of the crocodile farming business this became dangerous with several people being attacked while on their boats: these creatures had grown to an enormous size sometimes well over 20 feet in length. As in many parts of southern Africa game is always under threat from poachers. The value attributed to rhino horn but also the ivory from elephant tusks provide a huge incentive to poachers usually poor locals whose lives are put at risk by ruthless paymasters. The Zimbabwean government has always adopted a ‘shoot to kill’ policy towards poachers and game rangers are on continuous patrol to protect the endangered animals. However, the vast areas which need to be protected make this task difficult and poachers from Zambia cross the lake to poach in the vast Matusadona reserve. They are desperate and dangerous. And so, it proved. After a day’s fishing with Fred followed by a sumptuous dinner of grilled fresh bream washed down with plenty of cold beer, they both retired to their cabins glowing with the pleasure of a perfect day. After dinner the crew except for the captain could return to their families for the night and one of the speed boats took them ashore in the expectation they would be back on the boat in time for a late breakfast the following morning. James lay in his cabin reflecting on his good fortune and recalling the highlights landing a 5lb bream the biggest catch of the day. The gently rocking of the boat on its moorings and the sounds of the African night soon sent him fast asleep. Later in the night James awake with a jolt. There was movement on the boat and he could hear voices – first soft then shouting. He quickly put on a pair of shorts and made his way to the main cabin. He was shocked by what he saw. At the entrance to the cabin the captain lay beaten on the floor both hands and feet tightly bound with rope blood

oozing from a deep cut on his arm. Further into the cabin and trussed up like a chicken was Fred. Two large black men scantily clad, reeking of drink and stale sweat stood threateningly over their captives. As James entered the room one of the men placed a large panga machete up against Fred’s throat and shouted repeatedly in broken English ‘Stay…stay……. friend will die’ James froze. Catching Fred’s eye, he could see both anger and determination but no hint of fear. It soon became clear that our unwelcome visitors were poachers from Zambia fleeing from the game rangers in Matusadona who had sunk the small boat they were expecting to use to make their return journey. If they were caught they would probably be shot and this explained their desperation and why they demanded to be taken back to Zambia which was only about 4 miles across from where Chapunga was moored. With the captain unconscious and Fred lashed up with rope there was no possibility of meeting their demands and an uneasy standoff followed. James was forced to sit at the table in the centre of the cabin while one of the men made a half successful effort to tie him to it by his legs. On the table were books, packs of cards a full bottle of Scotch whisky and a selection of medicines including anti-malaria, pain killers and sleeping pills. In turn each of the men grabbed the whisky bottle and took a large swig. James considered his options. He seemed to him that their captors’ frustration from not being able to operate the boat together with their increased intake of alcohol posed a real risk to all their lives. He decided to take a gamble. As the men were shouting at Fred to start the motors, James was able to take the sleeping pills and gently drop them into the whisky bottle. He reckoned that in their state the men would not notice the bitter taste should they decide to drink again and there were enough pills now in the bottle to put an elephant to sleep. After another 20 minutes or so and having still failed to get the boats engines started, they grabbed the bottle and between them downed the lot without any apparent suspicion that the whisky had been spiked. James waited and watched his head bowed down on the table. To add to the unpleasantness of the occasion both men

decided to urinate all over the cabin bursting into laughter and spraying James in the process. But the last laugh would be on them. Their shouting subsided, their words became slurred and incomprehensible and each one in turn slumped onto the sofa in the cabin and within a few moments were fast asleep the deadly panga falling noisily to the floor. James was able to free himself from the table and immediately attend to Fred and release him from the ropes with which he was trussed. The captain would have to wait and in any event was still unconscious. Having disarmed the men Fred was able to summon help and whilst doing so provided James with a pistol telling him that if either of the men stirred he was to keep them captive and if necessary shoot. Half an hour later the police boat arrived and the men were carted off still looking completely doped. The captain was rushed off to the hospital in Kariba town where the wound to his arm needed urgent treatment. For James this was the coming of age and his composure and initiative under duress earned him considerable praise. And the enduring gratitude of the Pitzner family. The frightening episode brought home to Fred the need for better security and it was unnerving to know their boat was boarded whilst moored without any apparent difficulty. A certain amount of light-headiness ensued once the scare was over and James and Fred spent the rest of the day fighting with Tiger fish at the mouth of the Sanyati River. As they fished the abundance of elephant and buffalo peacefully grazing at the water’s edge and the multitude of red breasted weavers darting in and out of their nests borrowed deep into the river bank painted a canvas of unearthly beauty quickly dispelling the horrors of the morning. They also discussed the threat to Kariba itself. Recent reports pointed to the damage to the dam wall caused by the thundering water cascading violently though the spillway continually eroding the base of the wall notwithstanding repeated attempts to prevent this by injecting millions of cubic metres of quick set concrete. If the wall should fail the consequences would be disastrous. The concrete would peel away in an instant with three hundred feet of water, a towering, massive pent up force of kinetic energy that would

thrust the great slabs of concrete away and explode to freedom in a mighty wave as high as the cliffs that bound it. The devastation downstream would be unimaginable. Below the dam wall at a place called Nyamomba, where the gorge ends and the flatlands of the valley begin, the water would spread out in a wall one hundred feet high heading towards the vast Cahora Bassa dam in neighbouring Mozambique. Racing down the course of the river, the weight of the water would kick out the bottom of the Cahora Bassa dam wall before the deluge even reached it resulting in a massive explosion. The water from Cahora Bassa would take off with the Kariba water riding on its shoulders. The Mozambican towns of Tete, Tambara, Sena, Quelimane and Beira would be wiped out before the floods plunge into the Indian Ocean creating a tsunami whose effects would be felt as far away as India. As many as 3 million people would lose their lives, millions of animals lost and the waters would devour up the lowlands, churning and heaving, drenching and drowning the vast wilderness. In Zambia the waters would back-flood threatening the dense populations surrounding the capital city Lusaka. And both Zimbabwe and Zambia would be deprived of a major source of their electricity supply. None of this seemed remotely possible as the pair resumed their fishing on the calm waters of Sanyati gorge and as sunset approached they packed up their gear and flew back to Harare there to regale Greta with a blow by blow account of their frightening ordeal.

Chapter 3

fter James had completed six months on the farm Fred and Greta urged him to see the rest of the country before returning home and took some pleasure in helping plan this excursion. He was to take an old pick-up truck from the farm and drive south starting with a visit to Great Zimbabwe the ruins whose origins are thought to date back to the 11th century. The ruins, a testament to a culture of great wealth and architectural skill, boast vast granite walls embellished with turrets, towers, platforms and elegantly sculptured stairways. Much about Great Zimbabwe is still a mystery owing in large measure to frenzied plundering of the site at the beginning of the 20th century. The ruins remain a source of great national pride and the birds carved in soapstone that were discovered in the ruins can be found on Zimbabwe’s flag. Travelling by road in Zimbabwe was not without risk and James was given firm advice not to drive at night, always to carry a large can of reserve petrol and to hide a small wad of US dollars to buy himself out of trouble if necessary. This proved to be sound advice and he was pleased in retrospect that Fred absolutely refused to allow Julie to go with him. James set off from the Pitzner flat in Harare and drove south reaching the town of Masvingo (originally Fort Victoria) after a four-and-a-half-hour uneventful drive interrupted only by frequent road blocks at which menacing policemen inspected the vehicle in the hope of discovering a fault which would enable them to extract a fine. Fort Victoria had been the first colonial fort in Southern Rhodesia guarding the route to Fort Salisbury (now Harare) with

remains of the old fort still standing in the centre of the town. James spent the night in the Great Zimbabwe Hotel a few kms outside Masvingo and a short walk from the ruins. He spent the following day walking amongst the ruins, impressed by the sheer scale of the structure – granite walls in places 12 m high constructed entirely without mortar. The small museum close to the site displays Great Zimbabwe’s importance as the epicentre of an industrious empire in the middle-ages with trading links stretching as far as Persia, India and China. Early that evening one of the fellow guests at the hotel, Tom, suggested he and James visit the Old Fort in Masvingo returning in time for dinner. On the way back, by which time it was dark, a bus overloaded with passengers drove straight out of a side road into the path of their car. Fortunately, Tom was both alert and a skilled driver and swerved into the ditch to avoid a direct collision and the bus followed turning onto its side as it did so. By a miracle no one was seriously hurt and with the arrival of the police it was clear that the driver of the bus was blind drunk, staggering around his capsized vehicle shouting abuse at all in sundry. He was taken away and the police allowed James and Tom to resume their journey after providing names and addresses. Accidents of this kind, particularly involving crowded buses, were commonplace. James was shaken by the accident and as he lay in bed that evening visions of the rapidly advancing bus kept him awake until the early hours. The following day James embarked on the second leg of his journey to visit the Matopo National Park driving via Bulawayo Zimbabwe’s second city. The five-hour drive took him through drought parched Matabeleland and the precaution of having a spare can of petrol proved prescient as the filing stations he passed were not only out of fuel but staffed by menacing looking workers. Historically Bulawayo had been the industrial hub of the country but years of sanctions and the horrific and brutal purge of the Matabele by the Mugabe government had left the town looking dispirited and run-down. The extra wide streets, constructed to permit a wagon towed by a full team of oxen to execute a U turn, were mostly empty save for hawkers and a few battered old cars. Bulawayo as a city was always jealous

because Salisbury, as Harare was called, received more patronage and support than Bulawayo which lead to it being referred to as bamba jonke which in Shona means ‘takes all’. James arrived in the Matopos just in time to witness a stunning sunset with the giant granite boulders set against a golden sky. The Matopos hills, which lie at the very heart of Matabeleland’s history, are a range of domes, spires and balancing rock formations which have been hewn out of the solid granite plateau through millions of years of erosion and weathering. Matobo meaning ‘bald heads’ was the name chosen for the area by Mzilikazi the great Matabele king – a fearsome and ruthless warrior who pillaged and slaughtered all in his wake. Born a Zulu he moved through the Transvaal north of the Limpopo River to found his kingdom. Those who dared challenge his authority were executed by being tied to boulders and rolled down the steep slopes of Ntabazinduna a large hill in the centre of his kingdom. Today these boulders still lie at the base of the mountain. Having found his room, James went down to the drawing room on the ground floor where an elderly man, white and weather beaten with a deep croaking voice, was talking animatedly to a group of tourists who appeared transfixed by his every word. After fetching a drink from the bar James joined the group and listened. The talk was a pre-arranged presentation on the history of the Matopos. As James joined the group he noticed a large selection of props including a large decorated leather hide shield, several menacing looking spears sharpened like razors, a selection of knobkerries whose rounded tops were worn by years of use and an old breech loading Martini Henry rifle the kind in common use by British forces in the late 19th century. As the group dispersed James bought the man a drink and sat with him at the bar. Ralph Lilford was a third generation Rhodesian his grandfather first coming to the country as part of the British South Africa Company’s contingent which established Fort Salisbury (now Harare) in the 1890s. His family had prospered in the 1920s and 1930s as owners of several farms, mostly tobacco farms in Mashonaland but Ralph, as the youngest of three brothers, had ranched cattle in Matabeleland until his land was confiscated as part of the

purge of foreign land owners by the Mugabe government. He was remarkably philosophical about this and said that at his age it was time to call a halt to the rigorous life of a cattle rancher particularly as his children had already taken up new lives in England. But his love of Africa never dimmed. And the stimulus of sharing his knowledge and passion for the history of his country was the main driving force of his life. In James, as an intelligent student of history, he found a most receptive audience and the two of them formed an immediate bond and talked until the early hours before agreeing to visit Rhodes’ grave and other sites in the morning. James rose at first light and sitting outside on the veranda having breakfast he was able to marvel at the sounds of the African dawn and the gradual stirring of its wildlife. Shortly afterwards he was joined by Ralph smartly attired in khaki shorts and shirt, desert boots and wide a wide brimmed hat bashed and stained by years in the bush. They set off in an open top Land Rover and within half an hour were at the base of Worlds View, The World Heritage Site incorporating Rhodes’ grave. After a steep climb, with frequent stops for Ralph to regain his breath, they arrived at its highest point where, surrounded by vast boulders and an incomparable view, is the simple grave carved deep into the granite bearing the inscription ‘Here Lies the Remains of Cecil John Rhodes’. The vast granite surface that surrounds the grave is populated by large multi-coloured lizards which sprint continuously between the rocks giving the whole area a kaleidoscopic effect and causing unfamiliar visitors to shriek with fright as a creature dashes between their legs. Also reposed in this place are the remains of Rhodes’ great friend Leander Starr Jameson and John Coghlan the first Prime Minister of Southern Rhodesia. James was aware from his time at Oxford that the reputation of Cecil Rhodes had degraded over time as post Imperial analysis has found some of his behaviour quite unacceptable. However, whatever these views might be, the power of his benefaction is undoubted and a Rhodes scholarship to Oxford remains a highly sought-after prize. It was also clear to him why Rhodes chose this place for his grave and he could imagine

Rhodes’s ambitious vision of a British colonial empire stretching from Cape to Cairo being reinforced by the stunning views in all directions. James found the Shangani Memorial which also stands on World’s View particularly moving. A simple rectangular stone structure with brass panels sunk into each side depicting the last stand of Allan Wilson and his cohort on the banks of the Shangani River. During the previous evening Ralph had regaled James with details of this battle the heroics of which lie at the heart of Rhodesian history. In 1893 a patrol of 34 men led by Allan Wilson in pursuit of Lobengula the Matabele king were ambushed and eventually annihilated by over 3000 Matabele warriors. During the battle which took place over two days nearly 400 Matabele were killed and as the last few remaining soldiers finally exhausted their ammunition they laid down their rifles stood upright and sang ‘God Save the Queen’ as the lethal long throwing spears thudded into their bodies. Impressed with the soldiers’ courage the Matabele did not strip and mutilate the bodies which was their normal custom but left them where they lay. Rhodes ordered the remains to be moved to World’s View and interred in a new monument. James and Ralph stood in silence and respect beside the monument and tears could be seen on Ralph’s cheeks as they both reflected on the selfless heroism shown by these men. On the way back to the car and discovering that James was next headed to Victoria Falls, Ralph suggested they should pay a visit to the site of the battle which is directly on the route he would drive. James readily agreed. The tour to the Matopos concluded with a visit to Mzilikazi’s grave tastefully entombed in a cave close to World’s View containing the great warrior’s spears and shield that he used to enforce his authority. The following morning James and Ralph set off in convoy on the two hour drive north-west of Bulawayo turning off the main road at a place called Lupane and there following an unmarked dirt road until they reached the site of the battle on the northern bank of the Shanghani River. During the drive James reflected on the marked difference he had observed between the Matabele and the Shona the latter being the predominant

workforce on the Pitzner farm. The Shona being smaller, lighter in skin colour, with an evident sense of humour are less threatening than the bulkier Matabele with their very dark skin, square jaws set with a somewhat humourless expression and every inch the feared warrior. He could imagine the terror faced by Allan Wilson and his men encircled by 3000 Matabele warriors shouting at the top of their voices and banging their long spears on their shields as they closed in on their prey. The battlefield is marked by a simple memorial and Ralph and James stood in silence with the usual sounds of the African bush hushed as if to pay respect to the solemn moment. At the end of this visit, James said farewell to Ralph and resumed his drive to Victoria Falls, known as Mosi-oa-Tunya: The Smoke that Thunders. As he approached a vast plume of spray gradually came into view hanging over the falls like a giant nuclear cloud illuminated vividly against a diamond blue sky. Although the Pitzners owned a small hotel just outside the town they were insistent that James stay at the Victoria Falls Hotel, one of the great iconic colonial hotels, and arranged for a room that meant he could lie in bed and gaze out towards the road and rail bridge spanning the gorge and beyond that the falls themselves, together a most spectacular sight. The falls are one of the seven natural wonders of the world. A booklet in James’ room explained that Rhodes’s vision of the railway (intended to span the continent from Cape to Cairo) was that passengers should be awakened after their overnight journey from Bulawayo by the sight and sounds of the falls viewed from their carriage window with the line built 1200 miles out of its way to achieve this! The hotel is a monument to colonial splendour the public rooms named after the great Victorian explorers like Livingstone and Stanley with waiters and staff immaculately livered in crisp white tunics, a red sash across the front and a fez on their heads. The well -manicured grounds in front of the hotel lead guests via a 10-minute walk to the edge of the falls and the luxuriant rain forest where cascades of spray have created a micro climate sharply contrasted with the arid vegetation in the surrounding area. James was amazed that it was possible to walk right beside

the water overlooking the falls without any protective rail and only the occasional other visitor. From each angle of view a stunning rainbow was visible as the sun struggled to penetrate the mist and spray and the sound of 625 million litres of water per minute crashing into the gorge below was deafening. James spent the hours until sunset wandering along the edge of the river completely hypnotised by the sight and by the time he turned back towards the hotel he was completely drenched. He paused beside the bridge over the gorge and marvelled at the formidable engineering feat which had made this possible: tons of steel had been shipped from England to Beira in Mozambique before engineers, at great risk to themselves, erected the span from both sides of the river well over 400 feet above the water below. The bridge played its part in the birth of Zimbabwe being the neutral location used for talks between the various factions, held in a railway carriage parked midway across the river, to negotiate a new constitution for Rhodesia during the height of the civil war. Back at the hotel James had a hot bath luxuriating in the vast cast iron bath held in position on four giant lion claws. The cavernous room made the perfect excuse for James to indulge himself in his passion for classical music. Greta had introduced him to German operatic music which he was now able to blast out on his newly acquired portable disc player. As he sunk into the warm and welcoming waters he was overpowered by the soaring voice of Elisabeth Schwarzkoph singing Mariettas Lied from Korngold’s opera Die tote Stadt the unearthly beauty of which brought tears to his eyes. He followed this with his favourite – the final trio from Der Rosenkavalier, Richard Strauss’s peerless operatic triumph. And to conclude this melancholic indulgence he treated himself to the Adagietto from Mahler’s 5th symphony – which is where it all began – James in his early days on the farm having wandered into the sitting room to discover Greta watching with complete entrancement Visconti’s great film ‘Death in Venice’ which served to popularise Mahler’s music, particularly the 5th symphony. Refreshed, James went down to the hotel terrace where guests were watching the final moments of the sunset. It was

a beautiful evening, a perfect temperature with the beguiling sound of an African steel band playing at the far end of the terrace. As he ordered a cold beer and settled into a comfortable chair James felt at complete peace with the world and only wished that the rest of his family could be with him instead of enduring the wet and cold of an English winter. Within minutes he was engaged in conversation with a couple of men roughly his age sitting at the next table – one white and the other black both Zimbabwean born. It turned out that they were part of the team of instructors running the bungee jumping facility on the Victoria Falls Bridge and they shared with James some of the dramas which occur with their work. They were beside themselves with giggles recalling an embarrassing event which had occurred earlier in the day. A large Afrikaans lady stood nervously on the platform trying desperately to find an excuse to change her mind and cancel her jump notwithstanding a large group of her friends standing close by and urging her on. She was wearing a halflength wet suit tightly stretched over her ample frame clearly in a highly stressed state breathing heavily and moving from one leg to the other as the team securely attached the ropes and harness to her body and legs. Eventually she was moved to the edge of the platform, invited to spread out her arms in a winged formation and launched into space. Disaster! The accumulated stress was finally released – by means of a highpitched piercing scream from one end and a massive involuntary discharge from the other. Unfortunately, the gusset of the wet suit, already strained by the breath of her buttocks, was unequal to the task and blasted open as she disappeared at accelerating speed into the gorge below a vapour tail of waste streaming out behind her. As she reached the low point of the jump and the elasticated ropes reversed the direction of travel, she sped back through her own discharge on the way up. This process was repeated several times so by the time she was finally hauled back onto the launch platform she looked as though she had been immersed in a sewerage pipe. The cheers and laughter of her supporters subsided as they led her away, head bowed and embarrassed, perhaps reflecting on the wisdom of tasting the curried crocodile offered in the hotel coffee shop the previous evening!

Exhausted with laughter James and his new friends drank several more beers before falling silent leaning back to admire the remarkable night sky. The millions of stars sparkled brightly and occasionally the sky was seared by the bright trail of a shooting star as it raced towards the horizon. This celestial sensation was enhanced by the excellence of the African steel band who played with exuberance dancing in front of their drums with much flaying of arms as they did so. It had been a memorable evening and James hoped to see his friends again although wisely avoided committing himself to a bungee jump and certainly not tempted by the crocodile canapés. As James made his way back to his room he heard the shrill toot of a train from the nearby station reminding him of an assignation planned for the following day. Fred had suggested that for an unusual experience James should take the train from Victoria Falls to Bulawayo and then drive home from there. He would arrange for one his drivers to take the car for him so he could pick it up on arrival in Bulawayo. With this excitement in mind James walked down to the station from the hotel after breakfast the following day. Arriving at the station he was greeted by an official smartly livered in the uniform of Zimbabwe Railways and apparently eager to help. James asked ‘Can you direct me to the ticket office?’ ‘I am the ticket office’ replied the official ‘Good, in which case can I have a timetable?’ asked James ‘What timetable?’ ‘For trains to Bulawayo’ ‘Trains leave about 30 minutes after they arrive’ replied the official ‘And when do they arrive?’ ‘I have absolutely no idea but usually one arrives every 24 hours although they can sometimes be up to a week late. But this won’t matter as catching last week’s train should not concern you and if you are in the Falls Hotel you will have time to get down to the station as we give a good blast on the whistle once a train arrives. You just need to check it is not going in the wrong direction’ This information was imparted with a broad smile delivered by a man who had become thoroughly accustomed

to the vagaries of train travel in Africa clearly relishing the charm of catching a train a week behind its schedule! James felt a bit of a fool naively imagining he was going to be told that either the 1042 or possibly the 1205 was the train for him – the kind of information readily available on the platform at Worplesdon station in Surrey. The thought of listening out for the toot then checking the train wasn’t bound for Zambia was too much for James and he decided this experience would have to be put off for another day. James thoroughly enjoyed his stay at The Falls and was bid farewell by the legendary front door man in top hat and a vast collection of medals covering every inch of his uniform. A few years later his reputation was further enhanced, following the hyper-inflation which destroyed the currency, by offering to sell guests of the hotel a billion Zimbabwe $ note for US $5!

Chapter 4

iving up on his train journey afforded James the opportunity to visit the Hwange National Park on his way home. The biggest and best-known game reserve in Zimbabwe, Hwange occupies much of the country between the Falls and Bulawayo, shares a border with Botswana and is home to an abundance of wildlife including ‘the big five’. Even though the camps, waterholes, roads and other infrastructure had become run down with the worsening economic conditions in the country the wild life was still excellent although increasingly vulnerable to poaching. Unlike the Kruger National Park, its sister game park in South Africa, tourism was minimal and large tracts of the reserve were completely wild and only partly accessible. This appealed to James who felt Frank’s farm truck could handle the rough unkempt roads in the park. As he entered the reserve for the first time he really felt the heat. Cocooned in the air conditioning of the Falls Hotel he hadn’t really appreciated just how hot the low veldt is in February, and without air conditioning in the truck this necessitated driving with both windows wide open ensuring that after a few minutes on the dirt roads James was completely coated in dust. This uncomfortable experience was somewhat alleviated by the magic of the canvass water bottle which James had only just discovered two of which hung from the wing mirrors of the truck. As the water seeps through the canvass and evaporates this process (like a fridge) cools the water inside. However counter intuitive this maybe it was both a relief and pleasure to stop at frequent intervals and drink refreshingly cool water. His entry into the park was

greeted by a sounder of wart hogs scurrying ahead of the car with their funny tails held in perfect perpendicular postures as they scampered off into the bush. Lion are very partial to pig raising the possibility of encountering these large cats later in the day when the hunt for dinner begins. The excitement from this encounter soon passed as James realised that the juddering of the truck on the dirt road was not the rutted surface but a rear wheel puncture: just what he did not need. The tyre was completely flat and he had no alternative but to change the wheel and must leave the vehicle to do so. This of course was contrary to the strict rules of the park extolling passengers never to leave their cars. As he stood beside the truck trying to work out how to jack up the vehicle he looked nervously into the surrounding bush in the hope that some hungry cat did not see this as the heaven-sent opportunity of a quick meal. To ensure the car was stable he dashed quickly into the bush and retrieved a large stone and placed under the front wheel. The searing heat made his eyes run with the sweat that poured from his body mixing with the dust already there until, baked and mud coated, he felt like a dish of ‘beggar’s chicken ready to be served. In his heat fuelled hallucination images of hungry animals danced before his eyes and the words of Roald Dahl came to mind as every rustle in the surrounding bush excited his fear ‘The lion just adores to eat A lot of red and tender meat’ After what seemed like an interminable struggle the wheel was eventually replaced. James sat for some time in the cab regaining both his strength and his sanity before resuming his journey. Rather than staying at Sinamatella the main camp, James decided to drive another hour into the park and head for Robin’s Camp on the banks of Little Toms River arriving there late in the afternoon. James checked in to one of the grass rondavels in the main camp. Never had a shower been more appreciated and James stood for ages in a torrent of cold water as the mud and sweat on his body was gradually flushed away. Refreshed and clad in just a pair of shorts James sat on the veranda enjoying a cold beer. Although the evening was completely still without a breath

of wind, the tweeting of birds subsiding as they hunkered down for the night, a distant rumble could be heard accompanied by a slight and intermittent lightening of the sky. A storm was gathering: rare in these parts but on occasions violent and destructive. The animals knew what was approaching and they had retreated deep into the bush to seek shelter from the storm. Within minutes the serenity of the evening was shattered: the sheet lightening turned into forked jagged streaks illuminating the sky followed immediately by massive claps of thunder; the wind picked up, the sky darkened and soon the trees were bent over by the force of the gale as it howled through the camp; the heavens opened and stair rods of rain pelted down soon creating a patchwork of mud swirling rivers. James was partially sheltered by his veranda and looked on with a mixture of fear and fascination as he marvelled at the brute force of nature. It was over in minutes and as quickly as it arrived, the storm passed, the wind dropped and the rain became absorbed into the parched earth. All that remained was that unique smell which rises from the soil as it exhales its gratitude for the offering it has received. And for James the concomitant lowering of temperature and humidity was an enormous relief. Within half an hour the sky was completely clear sparkling with the bright stars of an African night and James made his way to the ‘boma’ to see what was on offer for supper. There was a small and eclectic group of tourists staying in the camp including a Japanese couple, their limited English propelled with frequent intakes of breath and who rubbed their thighs as they bowed deeply whenever James approached. He found this rather off putting not knowing exactly how to respond. It was very unusual for a Japanese couple not to be travelling in a larger party but it transpired that the Kobayashis had left the rest of their party back at the Victoria Falls and decided to venture forth on their own. Their poor English led to several misunderstandings over the coming few days reminding James how the Japanese for all their technical skills had a poor understanding of other languages as often experienced when trying to read an instruction booklet written by their manufacturers. James

remembered being told by his uncle, who had worked in Tokyo in the 1960s, that when western products were first advertised in Japan a huge neon sign appeared in the Ginza district in central Tokyo promoting Johnson’s baby powder and instead of the usual exhortation ‘smooth as a baby’s bottom’ stated ‘smooth as a baby’s arse’! James helped himself to a succulent looking impala steak from the BBQ and joined a small group of fellow guests all talking about the sudden storm and hoping the rain would not affect the game viewing planned for the following day. Keeping himself distant from the group was a rather sinister looking man busying himself trying unsuccessfully to get a signal on a satellite phone, eating quickly and then departing to his room. James noticed on his way out the man paused in the reception area and made a call from the house phone. The group eating in the boma were joined by Craig one of the game rangers attached to the camp. Craig, in his early thirties, deeply tanned and squeezed into very tight shorts, was soon in his stride as he regaled the open-mouthed tourists with the folklore of the bush, his many narrow escapes and his expectations of the game he hoped to track down the following day. Gradually the party peeled off and retired to their rooms in preparation for a very early start the next day. It was still dark and he was fast asleep when James heard a gentle knock on his door. It was Craig. ‘James wake up – we should get going: there has been a kill near the camp and if we are quick we should be in time to see the lions on the feed’ James dressed quickly and as he entered the boma he saw the remainder of the party gradually – and rather sleepily – assembling. A quick cup of tea accompanied by the traditional southern African rusk was quickly consumed before boarding the game vehicle – a Land Rover with two extra rows of seats fixed high up at the back to ensure an unimpeded view. Perched on the front of the vehicle in a specially constructed seat was Moses an expert game tracker armed with a powerful search light. The party consisted of 7 people including the Kobayashis, the rather sinister man who they discovered was called Hans, James and a collection of

fellow travellers who had stayed in the camp overnight. As they exited the camp Moses directed the Land Rover down a bumpy track shining his powerful light from one side to the other occasionally picking up the shining eyes of Impala resting quietly under the trees. Within minutes the sky began to turn pink to the east as the first signs of dawn appeared. Every few minutes Craig stopped the car turned off the engine and listened. On the first few occasions there was nothing except the stirring of doves that began softly to coo. Then they heard it – a deep growl and occasional roar as they approached the kill. Moses directed the Land Rover off the rough track and into the bush following the noise. Within minutes they drove right beside the kill. Craig cautioned everyone to remain in their seats to keep completely still and on no account to stand up. There was a lion, a lioness and four cubs; and lying dismembered on the ground a wildebeest. The lion who will have fed first had removed an entire limb and was polishing that off a few yards from the main kill. The lioness and the cubs were standing on what remained of the carcass ripping off chunks of meat. It was a gory and noisy scene witnessed by several jackals standing a respectful distance apart. Every time one advanced towards the kill the lioness paused from her meal and made a quick dart at them as they scattered to a safe distance. With the passage of time the jackals became increasingly brave and would dart towards the kill steal a morsel of flesh and rapidly retreat before experiencing the wrath of the lioness. The lions were completely oblivious of Craig and his party who watched the scene within a few feet from the kill illuminated by the bright light shone by Moses. As dawn broke the vultures arrived, first circling overhead and then perching on nearby trees waiting their turn. The cycle of nature was soon to be enacted. As the pride of lions became gorged from their meal they stole away to slump lazily under the nearest clump of trees. This was the signal for the jackals to move onto the remains of the kill chasing away vultures eager to join the meal. Finally, with the carcass almost demolished the vultures moved in and within minutes there was nothing to be seen but a pile to bones. It was a great sight, well worth the early wake-up call and greatly

appreciated by Craig’s party. The Kobayashis were exhilarated by the experience expressed at increasingly frequent intervals by loud hissing sounds. By the time the vultures had finished the washing up the day was well under way and it was hot. Craig drove a few miles to a small dam used as a watering hole, where there was plenty of shade making it a good place for a refreshing cool drink. Normally game drives would conclude before 10 am as the heat became unduly oppressive with the game retreating deep into the bush. Sitting on the dam wall reliving the experience with the lions, a herd of elephant broke cover and headed for the water. There were at least 30 of them including some very young calves clinging nervously to their mothers. Half of the herd went immediately to drink and the rest continued their remorseless feeding stripping the bark from the trees at the water’s edge and where necessary pushing the trees over to gain access to the bark and the more succulent leaves growing further up the tree. Watching this for just a short while made James realise how much damage elephant can do to the bush. The young calves were cooled by their mothers who covered them with lashings of mud interspersed with spray from their trunks. As the herd approached Craig advised the party to return to the Land Rover and observe from there. The mothers of the young were noticeably agitated as shown by the sweat behind their ears which flapped vigorously as a sign of their concern and a warning not to approach. Not wishing to take any risks Craig quickly drove some distance from the herd much to the relief of several his guests. Mr and Mrs Kobayashi were noisily sucking their teeth even forgetting to use the powerful range of photographic equipment they had at their disposal. On their way back to camp two very large rhinos were spotted close by as the vehicle track crossed a dry river bed. A magnificent sight – these prehistoric creatures surprisingly agile as they retreated at speed into the thick bush as the Land Rover approached. James noticed that Hans showed considerable interest in this sighting and could be seen hunched over his mobile phone on the way back to camp. As they drove into the camp a herd of Impala crossed their path leaping effortlessly with athletic prowess across the road as

the car approached. Early morning game drives were invariably followed by a large breakfast and as the party arrived back at the boma an extensive spread was awaiting them: boerewors grilled in a coil with poached eggs on top being a speciality. After breakfast Craig and James remained behind discussing Hans and his unusual behaviour. The concern they expressed was heightened by the sight of him checking out and leaving the camp in what looked like a very hurried departure. Craig’s hunch was that he was up to no good probably to do with illegal poaching, rife at the time in the park. Craig decided to return to the spot where they had seen the rhinos and after some persuasion agreed that James could accompany him. It was about 30 minutes’ drive but they stopped well short and listened. At first all that could be heard was the stillness of the midday bush with the occasional interruption from a chirping cricket. After a few minutes however, they heard a distant and intermittent high pitch whine as though from some mechanical device. Craig quickly realised that what they were hearing was a chain saw which confirmed his worst fears: the horns of a rhino were being removed. Craig and James conferred. To approach the scene would be extremely dangerous as these were clearly determined poachers who would stop at nothing to protect their prize and the chance of getting the official game wardens to the scene in time was remote. Craig had two rifles in the car and they decided to fire repeatedly in the air in the hope that the poachers would fear an attack from the game wardens and retreat. The governments ‘shoot to kill’ policy for poaching would reinforce this fear. Craig and James continued their fusillade for about 20 minutes until they had exhausted all the ammunition in the Land Rover. They heard loud voices shouting in both Afrikaans and Ndebele and in due course the sound of engines revving as the poacher’s vehicles sped off into the bush no doubt heading for the Botswana border. Craig and James waited for at least 15 minutes before edging slowly forward to the site of the killing. What a ghastly sight. A large rhino lay dead on its haunches surrounded by a vast pool of blood. Its skull had been shattered by bullet holes and

completely disfigured by the removal of its two horns only the jagged stumps remaining. There was no sign of the second rhino which they had spotted on the morning game drive and the gory scene was marked by a large gathering of vultures perched in all the surrounding trees patiently waiting their turn. James was deeply shocked – a sight that would remain with him for many months afterwards. Rhino poaching is endemic in sub-Saharan Africa with the number of animals killed increasing each year notwithstanding increased efforts by conservationists and numerous government anti-poaching initiatives. Demand for the horn comes principally from Asia for use in traditional Chinese medicine where for centuries it has been used for treatment of fever, rheumatism, gout and other disorders. The horn is ground into a powder, dissolved in boiling water and then consumed by the patient. Also, there is a belief that rhino horn is an aphrodisiac and sexual stimulant. There is no scientific evidence that rhino horn is effective either as a medicine or as a sexual stimulant but there is widespread belief in Asia that it does and demand continues to grow. With prices for the horn reaching $60,000 per kilo it is not surprising that poaching is so difficult to eradicate with wealthy perpetrators standing well back allowing low income locals to do the dirty work and shoulder the risk. Shocked and crestfallen Craig and James returned to camp having reported the incident to the Hwange park officials but with little hope of any effective response: this marked a low point on James’s travels and the next day he prepared for the long drive back to the farm. The next morning James said goodbye to his fellow guests and Craig and set off for Harare. He decided the drive would take 2 full days and he decided to stay the night in the modestly named Beverly Hills Lodge in Kwekwe approximately half way home. To keep him company on the journey – apart from savouring the prospect of seeing Julie again – he had two interrelated topics to turn over in his mind. The first concerned the country itself. This beautiful country with a perfect climate and brimming with promise yet devastated by incompetence, corruption and, in the Shona at least, a persistent lethargy with no noticeable effort

to bring about change. Before independence Rhodesia was perhaps the best run country in sub-Saharan Africa with a respected parliament and judiciary, good schools and hospitals, excellent roads, a strong manufacturing base, a world leading tobacco producer and the main exporter of maize to South Africa and other adjacent countries. The black population had no votes but enjoyed full employment and a reasonable standard of living: the cost of achieving the vote and the independence that followed has been high. After a promising start when the new government sought to engage with the minority white population and encourage them to remain, it has been downhill ever since. Farms which were productive and employed large numbers were confiscated becoming deserted. Cronyism and corruption took hold, the economy contracted, necessary expenditure on schools, hospitals, roads and other infrastructure collapsed and unemployment rose steadily to record levels. The favoured few prospered as did the armed forces who were well paid to protect the elite. ‘Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely’ was played out in full view as the leaders plundered their country. James asked himself if this was the inevitable price of democracy in Africa or would a strong middle class emerge to correct this and reverse the decline. Would there be any future for the whites and could a truly multi-racial society emerge. James needed to have some view on this following the conversation he had with Fred and Greta shortly before he set off on his journey. Having no children of their own they asked James if he would consider staying in Africa and gradually taking over the farm and their other business interests. At some point Fred and Greta planned to retire to the Cape and needed a younger man of the next generation with energy and commitment to carry on what they had started and built and they felt James was that person. Recognising that James planned to return to the UK they suggested that he do so for a period of about 5 years to gain more business experience after which he would then be ready for the African challenge and they would be ready to retire. James thought about this regularly on his travels – often in the middle of the night – and the dilemma was front

of mind as he bumped his way along the dusty trail back to Harare. It was very tempting: he had grown to love the country, was tolerant of its difficulties and enjoyed an easy relationship with the blacks. Furthermore, he had no other obvious career plans and the thought of training to be a chartered accountant, which had been his father’s persistent advice, fatigued him a great deal. He felt it would be more useful and certainly more interesting if he could spend a few years with a financial advisory firm before returning to Africa. Fred’s business interests involved doing deals and sharpening his talents in this field would be a distinct advantage. Julie met James as he arrived back at the flat in Harare and they spent a most enjoyable evening together reliving his experiences and relishing each other’s company after the long-time apart. James regarded himself lucky to have found such a wonderful girl friend who appeared to adore him but without any pressure to take matters to the next stage. Back on the farm the next day James sat with Fred and Greta before dinner and told them of his decision. He would return to the UK as planned but wished to take up their kind offer and come back to Zimbabwe in due course. He needed to talk this over with his parents before a final decision could be made although he did not anticipate this would be a problem. And he agreed that if at any time before his return he had second thoughts he would immediately tell Fred and Greta. A celebration drink followed and for this they were joined by Julie – glowing with pride and happiness. Julie presented James with a dilemma: on the one hand he was not completely sure about developing the relationship further but on the other he loved her company and certainly did not wish to lose contact. She was an extremely pretty girl, a little older than James, full of energy and enthusiasm and they had developed together their love of Africa. Her flowing blonde hair and rosy cheeks were a hallmark of the exuberance of youth. James suspected she had fallen in love with him and he needed to be delicate about her feelings. When they discussed his plans to return to the UK she decided that when her year-long contract came to an end she too would come to London. She said it had always been her

plan to do so after her stint as a nanny (although James had some doubt about this) as she wanted to do an art foundation course preferably at the Courtauld Institute. The day before James left the farm the respect and affection which he had gained was touchingly expressed by the entire workforce who, with all their families in tow, assembled on the front lawn and, as only Africans can, sang unaccompanied the little children standing at the front swaying with the rhythm. James found the music hauntingly beautiful and tears rolled down his cheeks. It was a perfect send-off the memory of which would remain with him for many years.

Chapter 5

o amount of international air travel completely removes the sense of amazement that on one afternoon you could be in one continent in the southern hemisphere and the next morning in another in the northern hemisphere. Of equal shock was making the transition from a very hot and uncomfortable check in at Harare airport on a blazing afternoon to the cold bleak dawn of Heathrow in the middle of an English winter. Fortunately, the many farewell parties before he left meant James was exhausted by the time he boarded the plane and he slept for most of the journey. As he emerged from the customs hall he immediately spotted his mother, Emma and Tom staring anxiously at the crowd of passengers. He had a moment to gather his composure before they spotted him rushing forward for an exuberant greeting. It had been a long while and although letters and email kept the family in touch there was so much to talk about it was difficult to know where to start. And in the year that he had been away both his sister and younger brother had changed almost beyond recognition. Rather than get straight into the car they decided to catch their breath and relax with a coffee at Starbucks in the arrival hall. It had been an early start for the family because the plane landed just before 6 in the morning. Refreshed and with composure restored they made their way to the car park and set off for the family home in Swallowfield a small village about 5 miles to the south of Reading in Berkshire. The Treadwells had lived in Swallowfield for at least 15 years having decided to move out

of London when the children were quite young attracted by the advantages of the countryside compared with a cramped house in Fulham; also, the availability of good schools in the area. The disadvantage was mainly borne by James’s father who made a daily trek to his office in the City, a burden lessened in recent years by a small flat in Notting Hill which the family acquired and in which James’s father would spend one or two nights a week. As the excitement of seeing his family again quickly subsided and the greyness of the English winter asserted itself, James longed for Africa. The village small talk and local gossip which his mother and siblings pounded him with when they got home was uninteresting and he found it difficult to concentrate. He also longed for Julie and was overwhelmed by the feeling that he had not paid her enough attention before he left perhaps leaving her with the impression that he was pleased to be parted from her. On his first night back home, he exchanged numerous text messages with her in the hope that any such impression was put right. In his final few weeks in Africa James had started to consider where he should work on his return to London and had long discussions with Fred about this. He concluded that he was not interested in qualifying as a Chartered Accountant as he was sure he could gain more useful experience with a merchant bank. Fred agreed with this. The choice he needed to make therefore was between one of the ‘bulge bracket’ firms or a smaller more specialised firm. In the former he might receive a more structured training whereas in the latter he was likely to get involved in deals and start to engage with clients at an earlier stage. The wooing he had received in his final term at Oxford left him feeling confident that he would have no difficulty in finding opportunities in either of these situations. In the end his mind was made up for him after a chance meeting with Ben Crenshaw a partner in H. Wells & Partners a London based advisory firm Founded by Harry Wells in the early 1960s, H. Wells & Partners established itself with an outstanding reputation for high quality, conflict free advice. Harry made his money in the first instance by owning several highly successful tobacco

farms in the Karoi area of what was then Rhodesia during the golden era of tobacco farming. With the wealth created from farming he directed his considerable energy and business acumen towards investing in a wide variety of industrial enterprises both in Rhodesia and South Africa and by the late 1960s had established a vast and diverse business empire. In a way it was a forerunner for the Harvest Group and Fred studied it closely. By chance rather than design, following the acquisition of a financial institution in Johannesburg, Harry found himself the proud owner of a small and practically defunct merchant bank in London. This intrigued him. He was aware of the power and influence wielded by likes of Barings and Rothschild and imagined that he could establish a base in London with similar ambitions. He changed the firm’s name to his own and set about recruiting the best bankers in London spending an increasing amount of time himself in the UK. Harry, a tall good-looking man with an infectious smile and easy charm quickly insinuated himself into the financial establishment. Although regarded as an upstart no one really felt threatened by him and he found it surprisingly easy to develop good relationships with several leading financial institutions in the City. Harry decided to break with the tradition of being based in the City and established his office across the road from Christie’s in King Street sparing no expense in furnishing the offices in a sumptuous style exuding a combination of stability and good taste. At the time of its acquisition the bank was just breaking even with a modest and barely viable lending activity, a small trust and investment management service and a nascent corporate advisory business. Harry recruited Michael Saunders an experienced and highly rated young banker from Schroders and together they completely re-orientated the bank: the lending activity was closed, the trust business was sold to Barclays, the investment management business, mostly on behalf of wealthy families, was expanded and the corporate advisory capability greatly enhanced by recruiting several experienced professionals from other London houses. This reorganisation proved successful and within 5 years the bank was not only very profitable but highly regarded in the City.

Given its provenance H. Wells & Partners developed a highly successful advisory business concentrating on companies with activities in both the UK and southern Africa helping them with acquisitions, disposals, capital raising, London listings and came to be regarded as the trusted adviser with unrivalled experience in this field. Michael, now retired, was regarded as one of the leading bankers of his generation and he and Fred had known each other for years going back to Fred’s time in the UK. As Harvest Group grew in prominence Michael ensured they kept in touch and before he retired introduced his partner Ben Crenshaw, a regular traveller to southern Africa. In James’s final days on the farm Ben came to stay on Easter Estate and the two of them quickly established a strong rapport. Ben was educated in South Africa and after Cape Town University was awarded a Rhodes scholarship spending a year at Oxford. Ben joined H. Wells & Partners straight from Oxford with the specific remit of developing business relationships with corporate Africa. It was a good choice as he was an effective banker with a relaxed manner and easy charm becoming a partner of the firm on his 30th birthday. James and Ben sat on the veranda late into night admiring a brilliantly illuminated sky punctuated occasionally by spectacular shooting stars racing towards the horizon. In Africa the sky at night particularly away from urban areas is beauty beyond belief. This setting was further enhanced by a fine bottle of claret which Fred had put at their disposal before he retired to bed. James knew little about fine wine but after ravaging a few glasses he realised that La Mission Haut Brion 1970 was from a very senior league. On the farm it was an established custom on clear evenings to lie horizontal on the swimming pool loungers after dinner contemplating the heavens and in Fred’s case this was the only occasion he listened to classical music: it was not unusual to hear Emile Gilels, the great Russian pianist, play Beethoven’s ‘Emperor’ piano concerto, his favourite work, blasting out into the African night. Occasionally the experience was further stimulated by smoking a cheroot of ‘dagga’ a local cannabis weed with the ability to induce a sensation of extreme pleasure.

Ben described his work and how the firm operated and it was soon crystal clear to James that this would be the ideal firm for him to join. And from Ben’s point of view he quickly recognised that apart from his intelligence, James had exactly the characteristics that would make an effective banker; in addition, he could see that James had become intrigued and intoxicated by Africa which was an added attraction. At breakfast the following day Ben announced that he had invited James to join H. Wells & Partners on his return to London. Fred and Greta were delighted – later James did wonder if Ben’s visit had not been carefully choreographed to deliver this outcome. On his return James wasted no time and with the strong endorsement of his parents he presented himself at H. Wells & Partners keen as mustard, determined to get to know his colleagues and learn his new trade. He would stay at his father’s flat until he could find something of his own. This did not take long and during his first weekend in London he rented a modest one bedroom flat in the unfashionable part of Notting Hill Gate almost directly under the Westway the flyover which connects the west of London with Marylebone. After the wide-open spaces, he had always come to enjoy in Africa a 500 square foot apartment felt like being contained in a box accompanied by the faint hum of the busy road overhead. He spent the first day at work meeting the staff who took him out to lunch in St James’s and gave him an insider’s view of the culture of the firm: he was impressed that his new colleagues were a lively bunch, hardworking yet full of humour. Further bonding with his new colleagues was achieved on Friday evenings when the team routinely repaired to a pub in St James’s. A completely contrasting experience was a fine lunch at White’s with his father who had been a member for some years. This all male institution was at the epi centre of British power and influence: members chosen through a rigorous process vetting usually taking 6 or 7 years to complete. Perhaps unsurprisingly Julie thoroughly disapproved of White’s which she saw as an outdated bastion of male chauvinism.

Chapter 6

ames Clarkson emigrated from Glasgow to Canada in the 1930s as economic gloom descended on the city. He had been apprenticed in the ship building industry, worked hard, was respected by his fellow workers and had succeeded in accumulating enough savings to travel across the Atlantic to Halifax in Nova Scotia. He was a gruff man of few words who kept himself to himself with few friends and whose only social outlet was the local pub where he could be found most evenings propping up the bar. He had long dreamed of seeking a new life elsewhere with a more favourable climate and greater opportunity to improve his lot. Canada struck him as the country where he could achieve this. He visited his local library reading all the books on Canada he could lay hands on concluding that if he could make his way over to the west coast this would be best. He would travel by sea to Halifax, find work locally to replenish his coffers then travel west by train. His drinking companions in the pub who were made privy to his plans thought he had gone right off his rocker: this did not put him off; after all he had no commitments in Scotland and, he told himself, it was far from unusual for Scots to seek a better life elsewhere. There were moments in the journey across the Atlantic however when he wondered what he was letting himself in for as the small cargo vessel on which he had bought his passage was tossed ruthlessly in a violent storm, the ship appearing at moments to be completely swallowed up by mountainous seas. For the best part of 24 hours the storm raged. It was impossible to stand up and with an acute attack

of sea sickness all Clarkson could do was lie on his bunk writhing in agony and fear. Eventually the boat safely docked in Halifax and Clarkson staggered wearily along the quayside looking for accommodation. He was lucky and succeeded in finding reasonable accommodation in a boarding house a short distance from the wharf on Barrington Street. The docks were buzzing with activity as both cargo and fishing boats jockeyed for position to load and unload. Hard men worked long hours for low pay but his upbringing in Glasgow prepared him for this and he soon found work on the quayside where a commitment to long hours and his previous experience made him a valued employee. His fellow workers were like him, gruff and anti-social, and during his short stay in Nova Scotia he made few friends. The prospect of travelling the breadth of Canada by train gave Clarkson rare moments of animation and he studied the history of the Canadian Pacific Railway with great interest. Apart from the engineering feat he was fascinated by the impact the railway had on the history of Canada opening the west and he looked forward to journeying through the Rockies passing legendry landmarks like Kicking Horse Pass before finally reaching its destination on the Pacific Ocean. It was a long journey and not at all comfortable but after about a week’s travelling he arrived in Vancouver. He shared a compartment with 3 other men making their way first to Toronto then onwards across the breadth of Canada, north of the Great Lakes, across the vast prairies of Manitoba and Saskatchewan, through the Rocky Mountains and finally to the Pacific coast in British Columbia. During the day the passengers could sit in an open plan carriage admiring the spectacular landscape as the train made its way slowly westward often greeted by locals, particularly native Indians, standing to wave beside the track. The communal carriage served food and in this atmosphere several passengers got to know each other and good friendships were formed. This included Clarkson who found himself seated next to a shy and good-looking woman who in due course would become his wife. To start with their conversations were at best intermittent but as they got to know each other and their mutual shyness subsided, they

shared views and objectives increasingly overjoyed by the similarities which they discovered. Joan was brought up in Toronto in very difficult circumstances as her father was injured in an industrial accident and unable to work. The extreme poverty weighed heavily on the whole family and when her aunt offered to provide a home for Joan in Vancouver she jumped at the chance. Joan was bright, full of determination and ready to make the most of her new chance in life. In James Clarkson she saw a rock-solid personality with a down to earth nature and she admired his initiative to make a new life in Canada. By the end of the long journey they had developed a dream together of what they would want and strive for in life. The relationship blossomed and after six months in Vancouver they decided to marry. James and Joan had a long and happy marriage, moved to live in Victoria in 1929 and were the proud parents of three children. Diligent and hard working the couple were good parents and devoted much of their energy ensuring their children would have an easier passage through life than they themselves had endured. Julia Clarkson who James Treadwell first met in Zimbabwe, was their granddaughter. Julia’s father Ian trained as a lawyer and became a respected partner of a medium sized firm law firm in Victoria. The family lived in a comfortable house in Oak Bay and both Julia and her older brother were educated at their local school Oak Bay Secondary. Julia was both bright and popular at school and gained a place at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver one of the highest achieving universities in North America. She studied international relations a four-year interdisciplinary degree designed to provide a broad view of the world with all its challenges and opportunities. Julia grew into a very attractive young lady with striking blond hair, blue eyes whose sparkle signalled her intelligence combined with a soft pale complexion. She was shy and although she attracted a certain amount of attention at university and had many friends there were no serious relationships. She loved the outdoor life which British Columbia facilitated and developed a keen eye for landscape reflected in several sketches and oil paintings which her parents were proud to display in their house.

Stimulated by her studies and after completing her degree Julia planned to spend at least a year travelling in the developing world. By chance a client of her father’s firm, who had moved from Zimbabwe to live in Victoria, met Julia and enthused about visiting the country offering to introduce her to a young family farming in the Mvurwi district where she might be able work. Her plans began to take shape. She would first visit Mozambique working in Maputo at the English language Centre, an offshoot of the British Council, before moving on to Zimbabwe. The journey from Vancouver to Maputo is an arduous trip and she decided to break the journey in London where she spent a few days staying in Putney with friends of the family and embarked on a whirlwind tour of the major sights including Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, Tate Modern and Tate Britain. She arrived in sweltering Maputo, flying via Lisbon, completely exhausted the more so having experienced extreme turbulence as the plane passed through a storm over East Africa. She had only flown before on domestic flights in Canada and found the violent bouncing of the plane as it passed through the storm very frightening. At one point the plane dropped rapidly sending glasses and trays flying through the cabin much to the alarm of passengers. The British Council had arranged for Julie to stay with a family who worked in the Embassy in Maputo who were kind and looked after during her three months stay. She found the city distinctly unappealing – hot and dirty and with not a single word of Portuguese to her name, it was a difficult experience. The ravages of a long civil war fought between Renamo and Frelimo following independence from Portugal had left its mark on the city as it struggled to rebuild its position as the capital city of a much-damaged country. As so often in Africa, the departure of the colonising power led not to its promised benefits but to chaos, corruption and deprivation. She enjoyed working at the English Language Centre helping a most eclectic group of locals struggling to improve their English. Most of the class of a dozen or so had some knowledge of English and Julie’s task was to read aloud, suggest a few paragraphs to be written each day and ensure they conversed with one another only in English. She

was pleasantly surprised how quickly their grasp of the language improved in the three months she taught at the centre. The class concluded each day with the students reading aloud in turn from Neville Shute’s best-selling novel A Town Like Alice. Julie chose this novel as it was the first book she read as a young girl that truly moved her – a heart wrenching story from the aftermath of the second world war. During her final year at university Julia became friends with a girl called Gillian Johnson, like her born and brought up in Vancouver, and who studied on the same degree course. They both wanted to travel in Africa after university and planned to meet up while they were there. While Julie was in Maputo Gillian was working in South Africa and suggested they should spend a week together on the island of Bazaruto off the coast of Mozambique. Bazaruto is part of an archipelago of islands just off the coast and the Bazaruto Lodge hotel on the northern tip of the island came with a strong recommendation. In addition to its stunning location, the hotel had a dive school which would enable the girls to achieve their PADI diving qualification. Both had had some preliminary training at university, conducted in a cold swimming pool, and were now ready for open water diving in the warm waters of the Indian Ocean. The week on Bazaruto Island was the highlight of Julie’s stay in Mozambique. The lodge consisted of a collection of thatched huts strung along the beach cooled by the ocean breeze. The gentle sounds of the sea a few yards away lulled the girls to sleep each night. In the centre of the group of huts was a communal room, also thatched and open to the sea, which served both as the dining room and a place to relax in the evening. The chef at the lodge was Portuguese and had an outstanding reputation particularly with fish. Just as well as there was little else. Most of the 30 or so guests in residence were keen fishermen and would return with a varied catch which each day was expertly converted into a delicious meal. Giant prawns were a speciality served laced with a lethal hot sauce called Dona Ana, the kind of spice that leaves the recipient speechless for some time as the heat sears through the body. Each day if one of the guests caught a tuna the fillet was served raw as sashimi. Nothing could be more pleasing

than sitting in the sunset on the beach sipping a chilled drink and eating sashimi. Nearly all the other guests were from either South Africa or Zimbabwe, noisy but fun consuming vast quantities of beer. Mozambique had a special place in the affection of Zimbabweans who recalled the happy days of their childhood spent on the Lighthouse Beach just outside Beira; this being the nearest town on the coast for the landlocked country and an annual invasion of farmers plus their families headed there in the school holidays. It was known as ‘Rhodesia by the Sea’ – sadly now decimated by the civil war. These memories included frequent encounters with giant peri-peri prawns washed down with Mateus Rose wine. Diving in the Indian Ocean off the coast of Bazaruto was a wonderful experience orchestrated by an Australian diving fanatic called Tony who lived on the island and ran the dive school. Each day the girls were taken out by boat beyond the reef and put through their paces starting with simple 15 metre dives escalating each day up to 30 metres eventually exploring underwater caves, swimming with sharks and giant turtles and completely blending in with the rich colourful marine life. It was like being immersed in an aquarium. Tony’s attention became a little too intense and, on several occasions, he had to be put back in his box. The life of a dive instructor on a tropical island is somewhat like a skiing instructor where the female clients are availed a more comprehensive service. However, two oxygen tanks, a wet suit and breathing regulator serve as good protection against wandering hands! The girls were lucky as they were the only divers at the lodge and during their stay both Julie and Gillian qualified as advanced PADI divers. As Julie and Gillian left the island they both vowed to return. Julie collected her belongings in Maputo and prepared for her next adventure in Zimbabwe flying to Harare via Johannesburg. As the plane approached the airport Julie could see the ravaged countryside of abandoned farms with only limited evidence of cultivation. And this in fertile Mashonaland previously the bread basket of southern Africa. The airport also showed all the signs of a failing economy, unkempt buildings, tired looking workers,

yawning and dirty, and distinctly unfriendly immigration officials. The gloom was lightened however by the smiling face of Peter Dixon who recognised her from her photograph and rushed forward with an effusive greeting. Peter and Mona lived on their farm in Mvurwe with their young family where Julie would be based helping with the children. They were almost embarrassingly kind and made Julie most welcome perhaps as some compensation for the behaviour of their children who would test Julie’s patience to the limit during her stay. The Dixon farm was about 12 miles from the Pitzner estate also largely devoted to growing tobacco. Peter had been shrewd in avoiding confiscation of his farm by voluntarily giving up about 40% of his land – about 2000 acres – allowing an appointee of the Mugabe government to take it over. What was left was enough for a viable farm and Peter was acknowledged as a skilful farmer popular with his workforce. The Dixons and the Pitzners were good friends and shortly after her arrival on the farm Julie met James himself newly arrived in Zimbabwe. The farm house where the Dixons lived was most unusual. Perched on the side of a large kopje, a vast granite stone formed the outside wall at the front of the house so the effect was rather like entering a large cave. On the other side a deep swimming pool had been hollowed out so it was possible to jump directly into the cold water during the summer months –not ideal with young children and Julie spent many an anxious moment ensuring they were safe. Peter had enhanced the experience by placing a large ladder up the side of a giant masa tree right by the house so the foolhardy could climb up and make the jump into the pool from a considerable height. Mona was a fanatic gardener and had turned much of the kopje into a huge rockery alive with colour and home to a wide variety of exotic butterflies. It was a spectacular sight. The Dixons were a kind family and although Julie had never envisaged working as a mother’s help she was happy on the farm and particularly enjoyed visiting Tommy Bloomfield a near neighbour on whose farm the renowned Shona sculptors had developed a major presence. She came

to love this art form and was fascinated hearing how the artists allowed the granite to ‘talk to them’ as each work took shape with the natural weaknesses in the stone determining its ultimate shape. Her favourite was a large work by Nicholas Mukomberanwa called The Shy Bride which she watched taking shape over several months evolving from a large piece of uncut granite into beautiful figure of a lady demurely contemplating her marriage.

Chapter 7

n his first week with H Wells & Partners James confronted the Excel spreadsheet soon realising this was the foundation of all financial analysis. The firm arranged an intensive 5-day course and by its conclusion he was ready to be unleashed as the team junior on client assignments. The firm was busy and in his first few weeks James found himself staffed on three different assignments – all sales processes where owners of small but growing businesses were seeking buyers. He was quickly immersed in the detail working long hours to help construct a comprehensive model of the business demonstrating its potential. Wells always worked on a ratchet fee basis where the higher the price achieved the higher the fee and, in some instances, where the existing owners underestimated their own company’s value, could lead to spectacular results. The sale process involved contacting an agreed list of potential buyers who were sent an information pack and asked to indicate their level of interest. The best result was achieved when a small number of interested buyers were keen acquirers and would push the price up. Managing this silent auction process required great skill to ensure the right buyer with the best price emerged as the winner. The vendor management were extensively rehearsed before making a presentation to potential buyers to ensure they described the business realistically. The relationship which Wells had with these buyers – both trade and private equity – was a vital component of the process: knowing how each go about acquisitions, their ability to finance purchases and their likely ongoing requirements from the existing management. Each buyer was different and

the sales pitch had to be adjusted accordingly. James was soon exposed to other advisers on a deal – accountants doing the due diligence, lawyers preparing the sale agreement and sometimes an adviser separately advising management. All this required not just technical competence but good inter personal skills as well. The office was laid out in open plan and there was a constant buzz of conversation as colleagues shared topics with one another. Apart from the partners who were older and sat in open plan, everyone was under 35, were full of energy and enthusiasm only too willing to help James. Working long hours and fortified by takeaway meals brought to the office in the evening, James saw very little of his new flat except when collapsing with exhaustion as he got home each night. On Friday evenings younger members of the team invariably went to the pub after work – all drinks were on the firm’s tab and this enabled a strong team bond to be forged. At first James’s lack of a financial training was a real handicap and he struggled to keep up. But his intelligence and dedication asserted itself and gradually he became more confident as the arcane concepts of accounting threatened him less. What really pleased him was the easy rapport he established with clients and other advisers who often asked for him on the phone when a more senior member of the team might have expected the call. Soon James, like others with whom he worked, inhaled the ‘deal fever’ where the excitement of reaching final agreement – usually late at night – provided the adrenalin necessary to keep the exhausted participants driving for the line. He also came to understand that investment banking takes a heavy toll on personal lives and why many who work in this field move to less demanding careers in their late thirties. But in the short term at least it was a fantastic learning experience not just in finance but in the whole realm of deal making. James was exposed to the governance and compliance rigour applied to financial institutions and attended courses and lectures on insider trading, market manipulation, money laundering and bribery. Every deal was scrutinised carefully by the compliance team, the directors of clients thoroughly

checked out before accepting an assignment and absolute confidentiality maintained throughout the process. On his arrival a junior was dismissed for careless talk in a pub about a transaction which he was working on. He also learnt that not all clients are easy to manage and that when things go wrong the adviser quickly finds himself in the cross hairs of blame. One such sale mandate, where James was assigned as part of the team, went badly wrong. The client had created a subscription service providing online information on the house building sector which had grown rapidly since its foundation a few years back. The owners wanted to realise their investment and after a ‘pitch’ process appointed Wells to conduct an auction. Given its rapid growth a high price was anticipated although the business was only just making a profit. The business plan was set out in a comprehensive information memorandum including a projection of it anticipated future growth. Several buyers were interested and after considering several offers the preferred buyer was given an ‘exclusive’ which meant they had a specified time to complete their due diligence on the business and put forward a binding offer. As part of the due diligence, as was normal, the buyer appointed a leading firm of accountants to review the financials and during this process they discovered a few irregularities most important of which was a significant exaggeration in the revenue growth achieved by taking credit for revenues from subscribers in advance of their due date. This all came to light in a session with all parties present which turned increasingly acrimonious leading to the buyer withdrawing from the process. It was a complete disaster. The client turned on the Wells managing director running the process and in front of others accused him of misleading advice, incompetence etc. and threatened legal action. The managing director Julian Robertson did not handle the situation well, lost his temper and suggested the client should never darken the firm’s doors again. Several days of dispute followed and with the timely intervention of the Wells Chief Executive tempers were cooled and the client wisely decided to shelve its sale plans for at least 12 months. Certainly, some blame was rightly attached to Wells for not thoroughly examining the figures before putting forward a

high valuation and accepting the assignment. Consequently, Julian’s bonus expectations were greatly lowered. The managing directors were paid a relatively low salary hoping to make their rewards from an annual bonus mostly related to the business they had been responsible for winning and successfully executing. In his early days at Wells Africa did not feature as the jobs on which James was involved were all UK based. He did however keep in touch with the Pitzner family telling them how he was getting on and they in turn gave him regular updates on the farm and other the businesses in which they were involved; in addition, they provided regular updates on the darkening political landscape in Zimbabwe. James was pleased to learn that Ben Crenshaw had written to Fred to say how pleased they were with him and how easily he had fitted into the firm. By chance sitting opposite James in the office was a charming black Zimbabwean girl called Mavis whose parents had immigrated to the UK a few years back. Mavis finished her education in England spent three years at Nottingham University and was lucky enough to be offered an internship with Wells. During the six weeks with the firm in her last vac before graduating she made a very favourable impression and was offered a permanent job on completing her degree. It may have had as much to do with her smile as anything else. Gorgeous sparklingly white teeth highlighted by her silky black face radiated a beam of happiness bestowed on anyone to whom she spoke. Always impeccably dressed she had the comportment of an upstanding Matabele warrior and soon showed an ability to match her looks. James and Mavis talked frequently about Zimbabwe and how much he had enjoyed his stay in the country notwithstanding all its troubles. Whilst on the one hand James longed to return, Mavis on the other had no such wish scarred no doubt by the traumas her parents had suffered whilst she was a teenager. They became good friends. The demands of his job and his natural dedication meant James had little time to explore London. He usually had dinner or lunch once a fortnight with his father and every other weekend tried to visit the family in Berkshire. He found

these visits rather exhausting as he was pumped for information about his job, his life in London when all he really wanted to do was relax, preferably asleep. He did however, when he was in London on a Saturday, make a habit of walking through the Portobello market fascinated by the rich array of all that was on offer. He came to know or if not to recognise the various dealers who invariably greeted him warmly with ‘Morning Squire’ in their pronounced cockney accents. The busy bustle of tourists surging through the crowded street added to the experience and he was successful in buying the various gadgets he needed for his flat as well as fresh fruit and freshly baked bread. He discovered the Electric Cinema nestling among the market stalls and attended a few late shows after the office luxuriating in their comfortable chairs. He was kept in touch with all forthcoming attractions via a weekly email. Undoubtedly the most exciting cultural experience from his early days in London was a visit with his parents to the Royal Opera House for a performance of Richard Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier. He knew the music well, tutored by Greta during his time in Zimbabwe, was deeply moved by the performance, marvelled at the sumptuous sets and was totally overwhelmed by the famous trio in the final act – music of unearthly beauty. As the page boy dropped the silver rose centre stage and the curtain fell the audience erupted in applause while James sat motionless with tears tumbling down his cheeks. Sleep was impossible that night as the recurring musical theme pulsed through his mind. As he tossed back and forth he recalled reading that at the end of WW2 the advancing American troops arrested Richard Strauss at his house in Garmisch in Bavaria; the composer, upright and with Teutonic disdain pleaded for their forbearance shouting out loud ‘I am the composer of Der Rosenkavalier’ which of course meant nothing to a bedraggled troupe of American corporals who were his captors!

Chapter 8

ulie Clarkson’s departure from Zimbabwe and her arrival in London was delayed as shortly before she was due to leave Mona Dixon fell ill following a tick bite and the onset of Lime Disease. She felt she could not leave the family in the lurch so agreed to stay a few months more whilst Mona recovered her strength. This was frustrating because she was anxious to start her course at the Courtauld and because she sensed that James was missing her and looking forward to her being in London. James had been equally frustrated by her delayed arrival in London and waited nervously at Terminal 5 to meet her off the plane from Johannesburg. Anyone watching the warm and affectionate embrace as they greeted each other would have realised this was a special relationship. They had so much news to share with each other it made for a breathless journey in the car back to London both talking continuously and sometimes at the same time. Julie wanted to have a bath and change so James took her to his flat and arranged to meet a little later at the Ladbroke Arms a smart pub and restaurant in Notting Hill. They sat and talked for hours – so much had happened since they were last together. James felt she looked radiant, tastefully tanned by the African sun with the gorgeous smile as fulsome as ever. She thought James had been transformed from a bush whacker into a smooth looking City gent and her teasing was remorseless. The long absence made them both realise they had something special between them. They had kissed once or twice before but never made love: this was clearly about to change.

Julie had a few weeks before she could start her course at the Courtauld and decided to visit Cornwall where she could stay with a distant relative of her mother who lived near Padstow. The long train journey gave Julie time to savour the beauty of the English countryside and for the final part of the journey beyond Exeter when the train closely follows the shore-line, the extraordinary engineering feat as the line ducks and weaves its way beside the crashing sea. Her plan was to visit the Barbara Hepworth museum in St Ives. Since her interest in with the works of the Shona sculptors in Zimbabwe she had been drawn to the work of Barbara Hepworth and felt this would be the perfect prelude to her study of Modern British Art. Barbara Hepworth came from a prodigious artistic background, married for several years to the artist Ben Nicholson with whom she lived in St Ives. She died in her bed from fire caused by a lighted cigarette as she fell asleep. The house has been retained exactly as she left it with the garden packed with many her works. Visiting the house with the still unmade bed, was a moving experience and Julie was enthralled and completely blown away by the many fine sculptures scattered throughout the garden. She was particularly taken by the similarities between Shona sculptures and Hepworth’s more abstract works. Julie had not appreciated that St Ives also was the home of the Tate Gallery particularly devoted to the British artists who worked there. A wonderful modern building looking out to sea showcasing the wide horizon and perfect light which had drawn artists there early in the 20th Century. She could not believe her luck and during her four day stay in Cornwall visited the gallery several times, visits which really inspired her and made even more exciting the prospect of her impending course in London. She was particularly taken by the paintings of Christopher Wood and Ben Nicholson and the relationship these artists developed with Alfred Wallis a humble fisherman who started painting on pieces of driftwood collected on the beach. With their support and encouragement Alfred Wallis came to be highly regarded and his unique paintings hang on the walls of the Tate Gallery and many other galleries today.

Christopher Wood’s painting The Fisherman’s Farewell depicting Ben Nicholson and (his then) wife Winifred and their young son was a favourite showing the anxiety families feel as their loved one takes to the sea. This was made more poignant by the tragic end to the life of Christopher Wood. He was an artist of immense talent whose life was cut short when he committed suicide at the age of 29, throwing himself in front of a train when under the influence of opium. His legacy of nearly 1000 works continues to attract world-wide admiration as do the many works of other St Ives School of painters who lived and painted in St Ives at that time. One of his last paintings Zebra and Parachute finished shortly before his death is a complete enigma and its message mystified Julia as it has many art commentators ever since. Julie felt confident that in choosing to study Modern British paintings she had made a wise choice and she returned to London in a buoyant mood. She enjoyed Cornwall and the spectacular walks along the cliff tops. It was easy to see why so many painters chose to work there. The beauty of the coast line, the shrieking of aerobatic gulls overhead and the crashing waves on the rocks below were a great tonic and allowed Julie to clear her mind and focus on what she expected to achieve from her stay in England. Top of this list was the hope and expectation that she and James would establish a long-term relationship. Africa suddenly felt a long way away and almost a distant memory. James’s flat was too small and, in any event, as they had not yet reached the point where they should live together, Julie rented a room in a house in Fulham owned by a kindly elderly couple. The couple were often away at weekends when Julie was able to have the house to herself. With James busy in his new job Julie threw herself into her studies although they usually met at least once during the week as well at weekends. The Courtauld lived up to expectations and Julie found both the teachers and fellow students stimulating and welcoming and the wealth of modern British art to study was extensive. Usually the course involved studying in the morning and painting in the afternoon. The accumulated emotion finally broke loose during their second weekend together. James wanted to show off his

culinary skills and as they dined together at his flat tension mounted sensed by a powerful static in the air. They were shy and relatively inexperienced but both knew what would follow. Who would make the first move? Could they wait for the meal to be over? As she cleared away the plates Julie went behind James and put her arms around his neck loosened his shirt allowing her hands to move slowly down his body. The effect was electric. What followed was a series of clumsy attempts to rip clothes from each other until finally they sunk naked together onto the carpet. They made passionate love and months of anticipation was finally released. By this time, they were practically under the dining table but no matter they lay together for a long time holding each other closely, hardly with a word spoken but with the quiet satisfaction of knowing they had made loving commitments to one another.

Chapter 9

onathan Turner made his fortune as a trader with Lehman Brothers in the ‘noughties’ retiring long before the firm imploded during the 2007 financial crisis. Grammar School in the Midlands and a maths degree at Warwick University was all the intellectual equipment he needed to exploit the free-wheeling markets of the time and he proved adept at making large profits for his firm and generous bonuses for himself. It was a demanding and stressful life and after 10 years at a trading desk half the time in New York and half in London he was ready to pack it in and seek a new life enjoying the benefits of the capital he had amassed. Tall and thin Jonathan’s face bore the craggy appearance of someone living on the edge, his thinning hair and slight forward stoop reflecting the hours spent locked in front of a screen. His personal charm meant colleagues always sought his company either for friendship or because of the experience he could impart to those still learning their trade. Socialising after hours was part of world he occupied and he threw himself whole heartedly into this activity making many friends as a result not just within his firm but across the City as well. During his teenage years he had visited Africa staying with a favourite aunt in Johannesburg. She had encouraged him to travel in Zimbabwe, Zambia and Mozambique and he loved every moment returning several times during his university vacs. On leaving the City and wondering what to do with his life it occurred to him that Africa provided the perfect antidote to the life of a trader: the fractions of a second which governed the number of basis points the price of a

bond moved was in complete contrast to lethargic pace of African life. It also appealed to him that the population growth projected for sub-Saharan Africa and its demographics would surely provide numerous investment opportunities where developed world skills and capital could be put to good effect. He understood the risks but he was sufficiently wealthy to withstand these. In addition, there was quiet satisfaction that he might be ‘putting something back’ after such a short and remunerative career. There were others in the City in a similar position to Jonathan and he felt confident he could set up an investment office to harbour these ‘refugees’ and provide a satisfying outlet for their capital. His wife Helen who had longed for Jonathan leave the City, which she saw as a den of greed and evil, rejoiced at his decision. They met at university and after a whirlwind romance married young starting a family almost immediately. Helen was entirely content looking after their children living a life of contented bliss in the Surrey hills while Jonathan immersed himself in the frantic and stressful trading world invariably leaving early and returning home late. In this light-headed mood Jonathan embarked on a new chapter in his life. Jonathan’s aunt Joan lived on her own in a large house in Bryanston, a smart suburb of Johannesburg, pampered by a pair of smartly livered servants. She was a widow her husband having been killed in a car accident a few years before. As is common in Johannesburg the house was secured with high fencing and patrolled day and night by menacing looking security guards. As the favoured nephew Joan lavished every possible luxury on Jonathan and regaled him with her scorn and criticism of all that was happening in South Africa. To her mind the Governments both in South Africa and elsewhere were incompetent and corrupt and the outlook for Africa was bleak. Unsurprisingly she thought Jonathan must be out of his mind to be plunging his hardearned wealth into countries with such manifest risk. As a contrarian investor Jonathan was completely unfazed by this analysis which he believed both created the opportunity and lowered the price.

Jonathan decided to make his entry into Zimbabwe not by plane but by car. The drive to Harare is about 700 miles and he decided to break the journey by staying a night in Bulawayo the second city of Zimbabwe. The road north crosses the Limpopo River at Beit Bridge the border between the two countries and provides the visitor with a most frustrating experience although a few dollars to the right official will expedite the process. A very tired looking immigration officer, continuously pestered by flies and with one finger exploring the innards of his wide nostrils, examined Jonathan’s passport making it clear that Britain was no friend of Zimbabwe being largely responsible for the country’s economic decline. Bulawayo is the main city in Matabeleland founded by the legendary Ndebele warrior Lobengula and is characterised by its unusually wide streets. The city became the industrial hub of the country during the colonial era but declined following Mugabe’s ZANU-PF party, comprised mainly of Shona, violent suppression of the Matabele in a struggle for power. Tales of brutal torture and execution still haunt the city. As an act of nostalgia Jonathan decided to stay the night at the Bulawayo Club a fine building emanating from the earliest colonial days. As he sat in the magnificent dining room attended by tall very dark-skinned waiters in white starched uniforms with bright red sashes, he experienced a surge of emotion mixed with nostalgia. Whatever view one had about the colonial era the British left a legacy of distinctive buildings and the Bulawayo Club was a fine example of this. The journey to Harare on an unrepaired road follows the Highveld through the country and is frequently interrupted not just by the pot holes but also numerous road blocks some official but mostly not. At each stop Jonathan, who had been warned this would happen, was asked to produce proof of ownership of his car, his passport and a full display of the prescribed safety equipment carried in the vehicle including a warning triangle. Failure on any of these tests risked a fine of $20 and in Jonathan’s case a volley of abuse being a visitor from the UK. Not the most appropriate welcome for a potential inward investor! More amused than daunted,

Jonathan reached Harare in high spirits and was immediately enchanted by the city flaunting row upon row of flowering jacaranda trees with their thrilling purple bloom. Rather than stay in a more formal hotel, York Lodge had been recommended – a colonial house in the Highlands suburb of the city set in a beautiful garden only 5 minutes from the city centre. Run by a third-generation white family the lodge offered all the amenities needed by the business traveller whilst offering the charm and friendliness of a family home and was much favoured by visiting diplomats and NGO officials. Breakfast and dinner were served at a communal table which afforded the opportunity to share experiences and knowledge of the country with other visitors. The contacts which Jonathan made in his early days at York Lodge were to prove invaluable. Jonathan’s plan was to stay in Harare for several weeks, meet as many people as possible and begin to scope out an investment strategy. As his starting point he had two important contacts – a senior black businessman called Victor Obuku who he had met a few years back in London and the country representative from H. Wells & Partners who had a small office in Harare. Victor, educated in Zimbabwe and the UK, had spent several years working for Unilever based in both the UK and the US. Very well connected locally but always at a safe distance from the Mugabe government, he was an invaluable source of intelligence with access to a wide range of investment opportunities. Jonathan hoped they would be able to invest alongside with Victor providing good political cover acting as a non-executive chairman. Simon Small in the Wells office knew his way around the financial sector, had good relationships with the Reserve Bank and in due course facilitated the link to James Treadwell in London. This was to become James’s first advisory relationship in Africa and he worked closely with Jonathan in putting together an investment vehicle designed to bring in a few coinvestors. The beauty of the jacarandas contrasted with the frayed infrastructure throughout the city with potholed roads making even a short car journey a tortuous process. Thousands of hawkers lined every street eking out a living

selling the most basic of goods each earning about $2 a day. You would imagine that these circumstances sowed the seeds of insurrection but no, the hawkers invariably smiled and waved at passing motorists as though happy with their lot. Many buildings were in dire need of upkeep, piles of rubbish lay uncollected and stray dogs roamed the streets in search of food. At its height before independence this had been a beautiful city, clean and efficient and Jonathan could imagine how depressing it must be for the long-term residents to witness such decline, exacerbated by frequent power ‘brown outs’ which regularly interfered with daily life. The only way to be guaranteed an uninterrupted electricity supply was to live near the President’s official residence. Jonathan’s first few weeks in the country were a crash course on the Zimbabwe economy with all its problems and potential investment opportunities. He met and talked with many people not just around the dining table at York Lodge but officials at the various ministries, bankers and leading businessmen both black and white. From this he began to formulate an investment strategy. He was impressed with the Ministry of Mines and Mining Development that were able to show him detailed maps and surveys of the various mineral resources throughout the country. He was particularly attracted by coal of which the country boasted substantial unexploited reserves many of which had been accurately surveyed as to accessibility and quality but never exploited. Each time the lights in York House dimmed and flickered was a reminder of the opportunity. It also appealed to his contrarian philosophy as an investor: coal like other fossil fuels was the prime target of environmentalists. Yet Africa needed power and lots of it. Although hydro electricity from Kariba was available it only provided about 25% of the country’s requirement and with the fall in the lake’s water level output was falling too. Most of the coal deposits are in Matabeleland particularly in the area surrounding Victoria Falls where the long-established Wankie Colliery is located. This colliery was established at the beginning of the 19th century but, being Government controlled and significantly under invested in recent years, was inefficient and incapable of meeting demand. Jonathan

believed he could obtain a concession to mine in the area, bring in outside investors and start mining within months. Initial talks held with ZPC – Zimbabwe Power Company – indicated that it would be possible to agree a long-term contract to supply coal direct to the power station at Hwange only a short distance from the proposed site of the mine. The other advantage was that the new mine would be close to the main Bulawayo – Victoria Falls railway line and coal could be transported not just throughout Zimbabwe but also into Zambia particularly to the Copperbelt the mineral rich province in the north. Plans quickly began to take shape and on the introduction of Victor Obuku and the Wells office, Jonathan met a talented and highly entrepreneurial black Zimbabwean called Barry Magonda who was not only prepared to invest in the project alongside other individuals, thus providing the necessary local participation, but also to act as CEO at least for the first year of operation. $20m of capital was needed and $10m of this would be raised in London through contacts of Jonathan and the good offices of H. Wells & Partners. James Treadwell was assigned to the project and this was to be the start not only of his involvement in Zimbabwe but also a lasting friendship with Jonathan. James spent a week in Harare working on an investment proposal which would be used to interest investors. He also made a short visit to Victoria Falls to inspect the mining concession renewing his acquaintance with the iconic hotel – even rekindling his memory of the exploding gusset as the fat lady plunged into the gorge during her bungee jump! Also, he took Jonathan for a weekend visit to the Pitzners on Easter Estate in Mvurwi. It was great to see the family again and as would be expected they showed generous hospitality to Jonathan. Without being indiscrete Fred questioned James on his career with Wells in the hope that his enthusiasm to return to Zimbabwe in due course was undiminished. And it was. James was thrilled to take Jonathan on long walks through the hills and kopjes which lay along the northern boundary of the farm and to rediscover the caves containing a series of fine bushman paintings inscribed on the vast granite rockface inside: scrawny figures of men, scantily clad, throwing

their spears at the animals they hunted for food. Sitting in the caves high up above the surrounding landscape and looking out over the lush African bush it was possible to imagine what it might have been like living there many hundreds of years ago. The reality of the situation was emphasised by a troupe of baboons making their way noisily across the valley below. The Pitzners were proud of this heritage and it was only a favoured few who could visit the caves, a privilege which had been afforded to James when he worked on the farm. Perhaps inevitably, conversation in the evenings turned to politics. As a contrarian Jonathan was convinced Mugabe’s rein was in its closing phase and that his successor would be compelled to unwind many of the policies which had throttled the economy for a quarter of a century. If the country failed to revive its prosperity, feed its people and provide jobs not even the most feared dictator could prevent the revolution that would follow. Fred was not convinced. Mugabe seemed immortal sustained by blood transfusions, organ replacements and monthly visits to a medical clinic in Singapore accompanied by an entourage of 30 nurses. Predictions of his demise either through the process of nature or political convulsion had repeatedly failed to materialise. This gloomy assessment was just the backcloth which Jonathan liked where investment opportunities could be selectively chosen and prices would be rock-bottom. His many years as a trader had taught him that the crowd like to invest on the way up whereas the canny operator usually did the reverse. His investment philosophy thrived on dysfunctionality and in Africa this was in plentiful supply. The only way sensibly to conclude a conversation about African politics was to take a glass of fine claret, stretch out on a pool lounger and contemplate the wonders of the night. Brilliant stars sparking continuously and on average every 2 minutes a streak of light illuminates the trajectory of yet another shooting star. Even better if this accompanied by some glorious music – Beethoven’s Emperor piano concerto a favourite Jonathan was also intrigued by the trading opportunities presented by the foreign exchange market. The Zimbabwean

dollar had been abandoned in the wake of the hyper-inflation which Mugabe’s economic policy had brought about. In its place the US dollar (and to a much lesser extent the South African Rand) had become the currency of the country but inevitably these currencies were always in very short supply and heavily rationed by the central bank. This led to unofficial (‘grey’) markets, stock piling of US dollar notes and all manner of offset arrangements as receivers of currency traded with importers desperate for currency to replenish their stocks. Jonathan felt confident that his experience as a trader would enable him to exploit this by finding a profitable niche for his skills. The priority, however, was to establish a base, recruit a few bright energetic staff and make several investments across the major sectors of the economy. In addition to coal mining he identified finance especially leasing, tourism and basic consumer products and hoped that within the first year he could deploy about $50m of investment capital. This would come from an investment vehicle he would establish enabling his fellow Zimbabwean enthusiasts to invest alongside him. James greatly admired the clarity of Jonathan’s ideas and his unwavering determination to make a success of his plans. He also felt that he could bring his calm judgement to bear on the somewhat impetuous way Jonathan reached his decisions. They would make a fine team and provide the perfect reason for James to travel frequently to Zimbabwe. By good fortune there was some spare space in the H Wells office in Harare which enabled Jonathan to set up his operation with all the convenience of sharing their facilities. He quickly hired two analysts one a newly qualified accountant and the other just returned from studying economics at LSE in London. They both had the youth, energy and commitment which appealed to Jonathan and he felt fortunate to have the makings of a first-rate team. Joined by Victor Obuku, who was appointed non-executive chairman, they all spent a weekend together at Troutbeck Inn in the eastern district of Zimbabwe, a beautiful setting reminiscent of the Scottish Highlands. Here the team forged a joint vision of their plans for the new company and there

was a distinct air of excitement at the end of the weekend. The first task was to prepare an investment memorandum to be used in presentations to potential new investors setting out clear objectives, the investment approval process, how the investments would be managed and monitored and the likely time horizon.

Chapter 10

ews of Fred Pitzner’s sudden death came as a complete bombshell. After a weekend on his boat on Lake Kariba Fred was supposedly persuaded to go on a bush walk in the Matusadona Park – an area rich in game which runs alongside the southern shore of the lake. He was accompanied by an experienced tracker who carried a powerful rifle just in case. Towards the conclusion of their walk they came across a small herd of buffalo who were making their way to the lake to drink. Fully conscious of the danger posed by buffalo they backed away to ensure there was plenty of room for the animals to reach the water’s edge unimpeded. They did not realise that a single wounded buffalo was lagging well behind the rest of the herd probably the work of a poacher. The animal had a short-poisoned dart hanging from its stomach and would likely have died later that day. It was in considerable distress, picked up the scent of Fred and his tracker and hid in the thick bush as the two retreated from the path of the main herd. As the pair approached the buffalo charged closing the gap at incredible speed head down and frothing at the mouth. The tracker shouted to Fred to run while he stood his ground and tried to stop the charging animal by firing both barrels of his 500 express. The recoil was fearsome and without time to mount the gun properly in his shoulder the tracker was propelled backwards and fell flat on his back. Both shots hit the buffalo but only on the side of the head and one shot was deflected by the massive horn and did little damage. The wounded animal ran right over the tracker such was its speed and

seeing Fred scampering through the bush gave chase. It was an unequal race and the buffalo caught up with Fred and impaled him in the stomach with one of its massive horns first throwing him high in the air with the upward thrust of its head. Fred hit the ground fatally wounded with blood and guts spilling everywhere and his screams could be heard as a gradually diminishing gurgling sound. Meanwhile the tracker who was unhurt in the charge rose to his feet, grabbed his rifle and was able to shoot the buffalo who had come to a halt several yards from where Fred lay, snorting from exhaustion and in considerable pain. The tracker immediately used his radio to summon help and within 20 minutes a helicopter landed in an open space near where Fred lay. A medical orderly rushed to his side. Hard as he tried there was not much he could do as Fred’s stomach had been ripped open and he had lost a considerable amount of blood. The orderly rapidly bandaged the wound and injected Fred with morphine before the helicopter rushed him to the nearest hospital located in Kariba town. After the helicopter left and the sounds from its rotors died away there was a deathly silence as though the whole bush community felt compelled to show its respect and the ground where Fred fell was a gory reminder of the tragedy. Flies and other insects moved quickly to take advantage of this. Fred was dead on arrival. Every year a small number of people in Zimbabwe are killed by animals, the buffalo generally being the most dangerous of all. Most deaths occur through visitors leaving their cars in game parks or by taking unnecessary risks. But Fred was not only careful and respectful of the dangers of the bush but was supposedly accompanied by an experienced and armed tracker. The shock of Fred’s death reverberated through the community not just because of the circumstances but because he was well-known and a highly respected businessman. The hospital had the unenviable task of ringing Greta who on the receipt of the news went into complete shock unable for many hours to comprehend what had happened. She felt completely alone without any idea what to do next. Fortunately, Mona Dixon was at home and rushed to her side

where she was to stay for several days. Greta could not begin to imagine what would happen to Fred’s many interests, how they would be managed and how she was going to live her life without him. She had always been very distant from Fred’s various business interests and had little knowledge of what they comprised. And in turn Fred had always left the task of running the house entirely to her. This was how their marriage worked. When the news broke James was in London and as the local radio and newspapers in Zimbabwe picked up the story the Wells office in Harare was immediately in touch with James. He was completely shocked sitting for hours at his desk with his head in his hands. How could this have happened –to Fred of all people? He knew he must go to Greta. Having no children and only very distant family she would be very vulnerable. Once he was clear that he should go he left the office and headed to Heathrow to catch the next plane to Johannesburg and then transit onwards to Harare. He spoke with Julie who wanted to come with him but he persuaded her to continue with her studies perhaps coming later if James needed to stay longer. As the vast A380 jet bounced its way through tropical Africa James was wide awake finding it difficult to read or do anything other than reflect on the ghastly tragedy which had befallen the Pitzner family. He had never experienced the devastation of grief – the worst disaster in his life being the early death of the family dog. The plane was completely full and James being tall and gangly found it impossible to get comfortable. Every time he drifted into a restless sleep images of Fred impaled, bleeding and in agony swept through his mind wrenching him back to reality. He was mightily relieved to be decanted into the terminal at Oliver Tambo airport after the 11-hour journey. A cup of coffee, a stretch of the legs and he was on the connecting flight to Zimbabwe. Always frustrating flying over the country of your destination only then to fly some of the way back. Gone were the days when there were direct flights from London to Zimbabwe. Exhausted and anxious James was further tested at Harare airport where he had to wait nearly an hour to pass through

immigration as his plane had landed just behind a full flight from Ethiopia and the irritable officer on the desk insisting that James pay the $55 entry fee in cash and would not accept his credit card. In this mood he had no doubt that the cash would not each its intended destination. A car from the Wells office was waiting and he quickly made his way their office in town. Greta had decided to leave the farm and was staying at their flat under the watchful eye of Mona Dixon. James knew his first task was to visit her and provide whatever comfort he could. He found her in a terrible state, face crumpled by long tearful outbursts and making very little sense. She repeatedly said it was inexplicable that Fred would walk through the bush in a known dangerous area even though he was accompanied by a tracker. The many visitors to his boat on Kariba were always told by Fred that under no circumstances should visitors leave the boat and walk in the bush. James did not know this at the time but the mystery intensified when neither the identity nor the whereabouts of the accompanying tracker could be found. Perhaps he fled to avoid having to explain why he failed to protect Fred. No one could explain the circumstances which led to Fred’s decision to leave the boat and walk into the bush. His boat captain was equally baffled as Fred had said very little to him although he did comment that on the morning of his disappearance Fred seemed unduly fretful and agitated – unusual for he was known as a person with an exceptionally calm temperament. James decided he must visit Kariba to see if he could learn more. Greta agreed but, in the meantime, there was a mountain of legal, financial and management issues to be dealt with.

Chapter 11

he day after his arrival in Harare James accompanied Greta to visit the family lawyer although she was still in no shape to participate in any discussion about the future. However certain decisions had to be made and James assured her that he would help her decide on those things which needed immediate attention and those which could wait. He just hoped Fred had left a Will. Jeremy Broom a partner of Scanlan and Holderness, one of the leading law firms in Zimbabwe, was waiting for them at their smart offices on Jason Moyo Avenue. Jeremy had been responsible for most of the legal work for Fred over several years and was visibly distressed by what had happened. They were ushered into a comfortable conference room, cups of tea were served and after expressions of sympathy had been exchanged, Jeremy opened a large file and explained the arrangements Fred had put in hand before his death. Being a highly organised person and notwithstanding the shock of an early death, Fred had made sure all circumstances were covered. His Will was straightforward – his entire estate was left to Greta with an exhortation that on her death unless she had re-married the assets should pass to all the charities which the family supported with a special emphasis on those concerned with education. However, there was a codicil executed recently and well after the date of the original Will. Jeremy explained that the codicil was unusual, was not binding and depended on a decision of both Greta and James. Fred’s wish was that on reaching 28 James should be offered the job of running his business empire moving to live in Zimbabwe. Should both

he and Greta agree James would be entitled to draw a significant income from the estate and on completion of at least 10 years in the role he would with each passing year be gifted an increasing proportion of the estate and on Greta’s death all of it. Although well ahead of when James expected this to happen, the idea was consistent with the many conversations he had with Fred. An agonising and life changing dilemma. Greta listened to this half in a daze nodding agreement as the lawyer completed his explanation. James quickly moved the conversation on to discuss the very practical issues of who was to run the farm and the sprawling business empire. Fortunately, the commercial enterprises were run on a reasonably independent basis with fully empowered CEOs in place, Fred concentrating on strategy and the allocation of resources. So, no urgent decisions were needed although in due course a mechanism or process would need to be put in place to oversee the group. Wells would be able to help with this. In the meantime, the CEOs of each business should be given a ‘business as usual’ message. There was tension in the room and James could tell that there was more to come and that Jeremy was holding something back. After a long pause and following the discussion about how to move forward, Jeremy said ‘There is a letter here we need to open’. He placed a large envelope on the table which had on the front in large capital letters ‘Only to be opened in the event of my death’ and signed Fritz Pitzner. Puzzled but nodding her approval Greta encouraged Jeremy to open the letter which he did. There was a single sheet of paper headed with the Easter Farm address at the top and underneath in large letters just two sentences ‘I am being blackmailed’ ‘My death may not have been an accident’ Signed Fritz Pitzner. A stunned silence followed interrupted only by Greta who bowed her head and sobbed noisily. James was shocked – and frightened. Frightened because something truly awful appeared to have happened and because he felt a great burden of responsibility fall onto his

shoulders. Greta had no family to lean on, no children and he was the only person she could look to. His first task was to see Greta had all the support around her to get through the crisis and for this he would look to Mona Dixon and other wives in the farming district. Greta had a sister living in France who she had not seen for some years and James would encourage her to come to Zimbabwe to help. Greta had relied completely on Fred and she was completely unprepared for this disaster. James also realised he could not return to England in the short term. He needed to report the letter to the police, follow up on the unexplained walk in the bush whilst at the same time doing what he could to ensure Fred’s business empire continued to function. He had no idea how long all this would take and after a long phone conversation with Julie they both agreed that he should delay his return and if it became clear that his stay would be prolonged Julie would come and join him. She was completely shocked by what had happened. James also talked to Wells in London who readily agreed he should take off however much time was needed. James had mixed feelings about talking to the police, who he feared would not take the letter seriously, but having talked it through with Jeremy concluded he had no choice. His instinct was correct and James was disappointed by the lethargic reaction of the police, a rather tired looking chief inspector saying they would need more evidence before being able to mount an enquiry. He agreed however that they would assist in attempting to locate and interview the tracker who had accompanied Fred and for this purpose put James in touch with the head of police in Kariba. Perhaps unsurprisingly the chief inspector quizzed James on his involvement, his relationship with the family and if he was a beneficiary of Fred’s death a line of questioning which only added to his frustration making him feel distinctly uncomfortable. James could tell the police were by no means ruling out his involvement because he was a beneficiary of Fred’s death. The following day James flew to Kariba. It was an unbearably hot and humid with a heat haze rising from the water in the lake. He waited some time to find a taxi before

enduring a most uncomfortable ride in very old car without air-conditioning. The police station is very close to the vast dam wall which spans the Zambezi at the narrowest point in the Kariba gorge. As the taxi approached James could hear the water cascading over the spillway and just before arrival the curved wall came fully into view carrying cars and lorries making their way between Zimbabwe and Zambia. James marvelled at the ingenuity of man able to place a vast block of concrete across the gorge enough to hold back the mighty Zambezi River and create the world’s largest man-made lake. What James needed to know was the identity of the tracker and who was it who informed the police and the hospital about the tragedy. Talking with the head of Police in Kariba it soon became clear that there was no coherent explanation about what had happened and the sequence of events. There was no useful record of the call as it had been received from a mobile phone using an untraceable number. Also, it wasn’t clear if the call had been received first by the hospital then forwarded to the police or the other way round. Fred was well known in Kariba and it was puzzling to the police that he had apparently agreed to walk unarmed through the bush. They thought this was entirely out of character. The police agreed to make enquiries of the game wardens who worked in the Matusadonna game park which runs along the southern shore of the lake. James agreed to talk to Moffat the captain of Fred’s boat, anchored nearby in Kariba town, to see if he could shed further light on the incident Moffat had worked for Fred for several years and was clearly very upset. He could not think of any reason why Fred had decided to walk in the bush particularly in the busiest part of the game reserve. He said Fred had been very distracted during the days before his disappearance, had been uncharacteristically bad-tempered spending long periods staring out over the lake. When asked Moffat said no one else had come aboard in recent days although from the hesitating way he answered the question James was not totally convinced he was being told the truth. Moffat and other members of the crew were understandably concerned to know what would happen to the boat and more

particularly their jobs. James soon realised he was not going to learn anything which would help unravel the mystery and with this disappointment he left the boat. Something was missing and James was at a complete loss to work out what it was

Chapter 12

ulie was completely distraught. Just as her life was coming together it was completely blown apart by Fred Pitzner’s death. Her developing relationship with James made her happy and she was confident that they would soon marry. She was totally immersed in her studies at the Courtauld, had dreams of opening a small art gallery of her own at the end of her studies and had started looking at options for where she and James would live. James’s departure for Zimbabwe threw all this into doubt. She realised that James would be gone for some time and probably would be asked to take over running the Pitzner group as he had promised Fred. This would inevitably mean relocating to live in Zimbabwe. Julie did her best to prepare for this possibility and she and James talked frequently on the phone. Her distress was heightened by the mystery surrounding Fred’s death and she could tell that even James’s customary calm was unsettled. They concluded that there was little point in her going to Zimbabwe at this point until some clarity was achieved. As the next vacation at the Courtauld approached she could take the opportunity to visit her parents in Canada. She had not seen her family for some time – since leaving for Mozambique nearly 2 years ago and had been under increasing pressure to do so. Hopefully by the time she returned it would be possible to plan. As the Air Canada jet made its way across the polar region en route to Vancouver Julie felt lonely and depressed. The route map in front of her showed that every mile flown made her further away from James making the tangled

complication of their lives ever more intractable. She had been further discomforted by seeing a story about Fred’s death reported in one of the newspapers at the airport. And she had the strange sensation that everyone was looking at her. Julie’s parents and elder brother Simon were waiting at Vancouver airport overcome with emotion as she emerged from the customs hall. The drive to Victoria including the ferry crossing took nearly 3 hours and despite travel fatigue and no sleep Julie was pounded with questions from her inquisitive family who demanded to know every detail. They had only been informed about Fred’s death but not any of the details and found the circumstances of his tragic death difficult to comprehend. It did, temporarily at least, reduce them to silence. Julie’s father who had worshipped his own father could see in her some of the pioneering spirit which had originally motivated the family to leave their native Scotland and make a new life in Canada. Although the prospect of his daughter being even further away if she moved to Zimbabwe was heart wrenching, he was full of admiration for Julie and the way she was facing up to this challenge determined to be at James’s side in support the man she loved. Of course, the family had never met James and ensuring this happened soon became the highest priority and quickly ambitious plans were being discussed over supper including visits to the Victoria Falls, Lake Kariba and other notable sites. Julie’s father, taking his parental responsibilities seriously, asked her many questions about James, his suitability as her intended husband his financial position and how he would ensure she was safe. From the long distance of Western Canada, it was understandable that Africa was regarded as high risk and it was difficult for Julie to provide much reassurance on this, a point of view only strengthened by Fred’s unusual and mysterious death. Two days after Julie’s arrival the nightmares started. The dreams came as a complete shock: she dreamt that she was accompanying Fred on his boat Chapunga on Lake Kariba while he was in the company of a very beautiful but dominant black lady. Apart from the crew there was no one

else on the boat. In the first dream Fred and his friend simply made polite conversation and completely ignored her but each night the dream intensified as the relationship became aggressive and sexual. Julie tried desperately to shake herself out the nightmare which proved impossible as she was increasingly drawn into a ménage a trois. She woke each morning exhausted and frightened the more so because the lady (who had no name) as the dominant partner was increasingly foul mouthed and cruel reducing Fred to a subservient state. At each encounter she would rip off his clothes and make violent and uninhibited love to him whilst she was forced to watch. She felt too embarrassed to describe this experience to either her parents or James and dreaded going to bed at night knowing the nightmare would resume. But more important what did it all mean? She became convinced it was connected in some way with Fred’s death. Julie remembered James had said he had not been convinced that Moffat was telling him the truth when he insisted no one else had been on the boat just before Fred set off. Something had happened on the boat which the crew were reluctant to say. She needed desperately to talk to someone about this. On reflection Julie concluded that she must talk with James whilst leaving out some of the gory details of the dreams. He must be persuaded to talk again with Moffat to find out exactly what had happened. They discussed this for a long time on a rather bad line and James agreed that as this was the only possible avenue open to them he should return at once to Kariba. He decided to ask Moffat to leave the boat and come to Hornbill Lodge the hotel where he stayed. He felt by separating Moffat from his crew he might be more amenable to open up. And so it proved. Moffat arrived at the hotel in a nervous state fearing that the meeting was about the future of the boat and its crew. When it became apparent that this was not the case Moffat visibly relaxed which was helpful for what followed. James was frank and said he was convinced Moffat knew more than he had said when they had the first discussion. He emphasised that he completely understood Moffat’s loyalty to Fred but as his death was unexplained there was now a higher duty to discover the facts. Whatever Moffat decided

to tell James would be treated in complete confidence. Moffat’s face crumpled as he struggled with his conscience, he started to sweat, he closed his eyes and moved restlessly in his chair. James sat still and waited. Eventually Moffat began to relax and hesitatingly began his story. Although Rita very rarely came on the boat Moffat had never seen Fred with another woman. He was completely devoted, to exclusion of everything else, to his fishing and the study of animal and bird life on the lake. This had changed about a year ago. Fred had a few guests for a twoday fishing trip and after they left for the shore the boat was anchored in a large creek just off Bumi Hills right beside the Matusadona national park. This was a favourite place to anchor and while the crew cleaned the fish Fred relaxed on deck having been up since well before dawn. The fishing that day had been particularly demanding as in addition the normal catch of bream they landed 25 Tiger Fish in just over an hour – battling not just with the fish but also the extreme heat as the temperature soared. Tiger Fish are a fearsome foe and fight with tremendous energy rushing backwards and forwards at great speed to throw the hook. It’s just a question of who tires first: the fish or the fisherman. As Fred dozed a large speedboat approached. Three people asked to come aboard – two European men and one African lady. The lady was clearly the leader and although Moffat was unable to study her in detail even a cursory glance convinced him that she exuded power in addition to her beauty. Fred who clearly was not expecting this visit, looked startled. They asked to see him in private and retired to the main galley closed the door and remained locked in conversation for well over an hour. Moffat could not hear what was being said although he could tell from the raised voices it was not a social visit. From this moment Fred was not the same, looked worried and distracted clearly with something important and menacing on his mind. He spent much time on his mobile sending and reading text messages. This was completely out of character: normally he never had his mobile with him always leaving it on the table beside his bunk. Moffat had hoped Fred might say something to him about what was up but no, absolutely nothing. On the day

he unexpectedly left the boat to walk in the bush, Fred had spent hours texting and was noticeably irritated and short tempered. Although Moffat’s story explained very little it did serve to confirm that Fred’s murder, if that is what it was, was linked to this visit. Fred had said in his letter to his lawyers that he was being blackmailed and it was fair to assume that the visitors that day were the blackmailers. James wondered if Fred’s mobile phone had been recovered from where he had been killed as the text messages could help explain what had happened. He rang the Kariba police to see if they still had Fred’s possessions. As before they were unhelpful but after holding on for ages they confirmed that the clothes he was wearing at the time were still with the police but there was no sign of a mobile phone. This was strange as the junior officer who was first on the scene was sure there was a mobile phone in Fred’s bush jacket when the police arrived. There was no explanation what had happened to the phone. James thought it was more likely to be a case of incompetence or theft rather than conspiracy. However, it was a major blow as Moffat had reported a profusion of text messages back and forth in recent weeks. Had the phone been mislaid or had it been stolen to protect its secrets? James persuaded the police to talk to Econet the mobile operator to see if a log of calls and texts on the phone could be recovered. It was surprising and disappointing that the police had not taken this initiative without being prompted to do so. As far as they were concerned Fred had been killed by a wounded buffalo and there was nothing else to investigate – tragic but case closed. James returned to Harare where there was plenty to do. He hoped the police would come forward with more information but in the meantime, James busied himself in getting a better understanding of the Pitzner estate. It occurred to him, with the thought of blackmail in the back of his mind, he ought to look carefully at all the recent investments. He spent two days with the Harvest finance director going through all the bank statements looking for unusual or unexplained movements of cash. Being a listed company Harvest was the subject of market speculation since Fred’s death with investors expressing concern about future

leadership and the possibility of Fred’s shareholdings being put up for sale. His investigation was hampered by not knowing if he had access to all Fred’s bank accounts both in the company’s name and personally. There were a few unexplained transactions and it became clear that the company had bank accounts outside the country with references to a possible investment in a lithium mine. With its importance in battery technology lithium mining had become highly desirable and Zimbabwe was known to have one of the world’s largest deposits located not far from Harare the capital. Rumours were widespread that politicians and others close to Government were trying to insert themselves (for personal profit) in the process whereby the necessary licenses and consents were granted. This was a well-trodden path in Zimbabwe and a decade earlier a similar feeding frenzy was seen in chrome – found in The Great African Dyke – but with lower prices, high extraction costs and insufficient quantities never really achieved viability. Fred had first-hand experience of this as the tail end of the dyke, the Umvukwe mountain range, ran through the Easter Estate. Anything to do with mineral rights in Zimbabwe was a murky world and James wondered if Fred had become caught up in it.

Chapter 13

ames’s head was spinning. He needed some space calmly to think everything through. Staying at York Lodge was the perfect peaceful repose for that purpose. Sitting on the veranda with an ice-cold beer in front of him, James relaxed looking out over the beautiful gardens listening to the tuneful chorus of bird song. It was the perfect antidote to the chaos and confusion which plagued his thoughts. Armed with a large blank sheet of paper he assembled the facts as he knew them. Fred had been killed in mysterious circumstances. He said that he was being blackmailed. There was confusion on how his death had been reported and his mobile phone which might hold clues had gone missing. The police were at the very least reluctant to help. Moffat had been most unwilling to admit that Fred had been visited on his boat. Who were the trio who expectantly visited the boat? Who was the beautiful woman who was the dominant figure and what was her relationship with Fred? Was the money which came from an overseas account and associated with a lithium mine anything to do with Fred’s death and/or his blackmail? The permutations and possibilities were endless. He also wondered if Fred’s good fortune in not being evicted from his land had run out. He had been led to believe that with German parents Fred had been excluded as the wrath of Mugabe’s ‘war vets’ had been focussed on British farmers. It was also true that the many social causes supported by Fred and the outstanding commitment to education had worked in his favour. But Africa is full of unpredictability and anything was possible. With so many people of influence relying on the continuing patronage of

the President it would not be difficult however unintentional to cause offence. Overlaying this analysis was a plethora of personal implications for James. Was he now going to move to Zimbabwe to help run Fred’s estate? Would he need to give up his work with Wells? Did he have the skills and experience for such a role? Would Julie be prepared to abandon her training at the Courtauld and come with him to Zimbabwe? Should they get married first? As a young man just out of university, observing friends of his father who occupied senior roles in business, James imagined that increased seniority made work easier with plenty of juniors to help. He now realised this was a flawed analysis as he felt the heavy burden of responsibility placed on his shoulders. He tossed and turned at night as dark thoughts with dire outcomes plagued his sleep. The mellowing effect of alcohol enhanced by a glorious sunset gradually brought some order to James’s mind. He must prioritise. He alone could not solve the mystery of Fred’s death. Some logical explanation might emerge in due course but in the meantime, he should focus on Rita’s wellbeing and ensure that the Harvest Group was stable. But he needed help, someone he could completely trust and whose judgement he could respect. It was clear that the obvious person was Jonathan Turner. He was already perched in Wells office, had become a good friend and had a proven track record of making money. His buccaneering spirit was complementary with James’s more staid and traditional character. They should make a good team if James could persuade him to put on hold his more ambitious investment plans. Also, he judged, correctly as it turned out, that Jonathan would be intrigued with the lithium connection. They met the following day and quickly agreed that Jonathan would devote 2 days a week to work with James on Harvest. They agreed to make the Harvest flat in Harare their base as this could provide the necessary infrastructure and it was a discrete location. As a trader Jonathan quickly became absorbed with the lithium market and followed its price on a continuous basis. They needed to establish what had drawn

Fred to this, how it was financed, who had persuaded him on a course of action which appeared in complete contrast to his usual investment criteria. He would also need to establish if the investment could be realised. Even for a country as rich in minerals as Zimbabwe, the discovery of lithium ore was an exciting prospect with the world demand for electric cars and other battery powered devises growing at an exponential rate. It was also the perfect vehicle for a corrupt government to divert resources to the favoured few. The grant of licenses and other required consents allowed ‘fixers’ to interpose themselves in the process in exchange for exorbitant fees and favours. The principle operators in setting up the mines were small Australian companies who had long experience in third world practises whilst at the same time staying just within the law. Fred’s investment was through a nominee company into a company called Abacus incorporated in Mauritius. The Australian mining company called Prospect owned 49% of the equity but all the other investors like Fred were cloaked in anonymity. Prospect’s shareholding was a carried interest – as payment for the discovery – but all other shareholders subscribed cash. Some of the subscribed cash came from bank accounts in Zimbabwe so presumably with consent from the Reserve Bank, but most (including Fred’s) came from banks outside Zimbabwe. The board of Abacus provided no clue as to its ownership as, apart from representatives from Prospect, the other board members were all professional directors supplied by the nominee company in Mauritius. This much Jonathan was able to establish with relative ease. The most he leant from this was that the sponsors of the project had gone to great lengths to conceal their tracks. The more daunting task was now before him: he needed to talk with Government. This meant contacting the Department of Mines and Mining Development. He thought it was interesting that on their web site there was no mention of lithium. He presented himself at their offices and asked for an appointment. To give some credence to his request he described himself as a potential investor examining the

prospect of making an investment in the newly discovered lithium market. It soon became clear that there was absolutely no interest in helping him and a rather bored and tired official suggested he write in requesting a meeting. He knew this would lead nowhere. There was no alternative but to escalate his request by asking the lawyer to Fred’s estate Jeremy Broom to ask for a meeting to discuss Fred’s investment in Abacus. He did so and after a few days silence a junior official was in touch saying that someone called Grace would be able to meet with Jeremy and, provided he was duly authorised to do so, Jonathan could attend as well. Grace a tall and elegant lady duly hosted the meeting at the Zimre Centre in Harare. They were shown into an airless room. Only Grace sat at the table but in a long row of chairs at the back of the room were about a dozen officials who sat motionless throughout the meeting. Grace was cold and formal and opened the meeting by saying ‘How can I help’. Jeremy explained that he was administrating Fred’s Will and it had come to light that he had an investment in Abacus and he needed more information before deciding what to do. Grace was unhelpful and apart from acknowledging that Prospect was the mining partner in Abacus, she had no information on the other shareholders who were under no requirement to be publicly named. Under questioning she conceded that her department was aware of the identity of other shareholders but that this was private information. All projects such as Abacus required consent from her department and Jeremy should assume this was the case here. Any shareholder who wished to sell or transfer their shareholding would she said rely on the constitution of the company which would no doubt set out the necessary steps to taken. Not very helpful. She acknowledged that she knew Fred, without confirming that he was a shareholder, making a somewhat obscure reference to a conversation about mineral deposits in the Great African Dyke which ran through the Easter estate. She amplified this comment with what sounded like a touch of venom, by saying that the Government took the view that these minerals, like for instance chrome, were really

the property of the people of Zimbabwe. Was it possible that she had been threatening Fred with sequestration of this part of the estate? With the further threat perhaps that the whole estate could be sequestrated? After all Fred had always known that he had been one of the lucky land owners who had been spared this fate. Was there a connection between Fred’s investment in Abacus and these discussions? It struck Jonathan that Grace could have been the elegant but forceful lady who visited Fred on his boat shortly before he set off on his fateful expedition on the shore of Lake Kariba. Fred was being blackmailed and maybe this is what he was referring to? Was Fred’s death an accident or was it related to blackmail? But, not easy to arrange for a wounded buffalo to appear at the appropriate moment. As a trader who made instant decisions judging everything on price this was a most unfamiliar experience for Jonathan and he came away none the wiser and greatly discomforted. One thing was clear – his attempt to discover more about the lithium initiative in Zimbabwe was most unwelcome. Jeremy Broom shared this view. As Jonathan walked back to the flat a journey of about half an hour he had the distinct impression that he was being followed. As he sat in the flat waiting for James to return he allowed himself to construct several conspiracy theories. Under threat of land confiscation did Fred agree to put up money for Abacus with the holding suitable obscured so it could be put in the name of one of the favoured Government supporters? What he did not consider however was that there was a more personal relationship between Fred and Grace. Whatever transpired, it was neither his skill or nor interest in managing an investment in a lithium mine. What really interested him was the prospect of trading in lithium which, being a sought-after mineral with a record of price volatility, would offer plenty of opportunities for his trading skills. To make a success of this he would however need to get as close as possible to what was going on in the sector.

Chapter 14

race Mvumba was the daughter, indeed the only child, of a low-key family living in Hatfield a suburb of Harare near the international airport. Grace’s father was a middle rank civil servant in the Department of Rural Affairs, a hard-working family man interested but not involved in politics. Although obviously supportive of the transfer of power to a Black government, he was acutely aware of the inefficiencies and corruption which came with this. His daughter Grace on the other hand was intensely interested in politics, blessed with quite exceptional good looks and a fierce and penetrating intellect. Even by the age of ten her parents realised they would have no control over her. She excelled at school, dominated her peer group and won the top scholarship to Arundel a leading private girl’s school located in Avondale a smart suburb of Harare. Her parents pride with this achievement was tempered by some fear that Grace would over reach herself as she sought to fulfil her towering ambitions. Grace regarded school as a necessary transition to higher things and after achieving top grades in her ‘A’ levels was enrolled at the University of Zimbabwe to study for a degree in Political Science. With her good looks both students and lecturers were like bees around a honey pot and within weeks of arrival she was in a relationship with a young professor, John Chimesa, a staunch supporter of ZANU-PF the political party behind Mugabe and his government. John was a powerful advocate and active supporter of the Mugabe regime and completely devoted to Grace. For Grace it was a heaven-sent opportunity to gain access to the political elite and once this had been

achieved John was cast off as she climbed further up the hierarchy in the political party soon to be on speaking terms with Mugabe himself and several other members of his cabinet. Little persuasion was necessary for Grace to join the ZANU-PF party apparatus once she completed her degree working both on research and policy. Using her intelligence and more important her good looks she rose through the ranks and within 5 years was promoted to a senior role at the Department of Mines and Mining Development where her role was to ensure mining companies and owners active in this sector were fleeced to the maximum extent in exchange for their licences. Much of the riches from this process found its way not to government coffers but to ministers’ overseas bank accounts. Fred Pitzner soon came to her attention firstly as a large land owner who had avoided repossession of his estate but also as owner of a range of hills in the Great African Dyke known to be rich in deposits of chrome. She realised that Fred was not just wealthy and influential but protected by Mugabe’s commitment to German nationals. Therefore, a subtler process would be necessary. Having met him at Government receptions and observing the twinkle in his eye she judged that he could be seduced. For this purpose, she mustered all the charm and beauty she had at her command and set to work. She noticed that Greta very rarely appeared at official gatherings and she ensured that he was invited to the annual dinner and dance which was hosted by the party. Normally Fred was circumspect about associating himself with events with a political slant but on this occasion, he chose to attend and he was seated next to Grace. She plied him with drink and wearing a short silky dress made frequent thigh to thigh contact throughout the evening. With each contact her dress rose up well above the knee and she noticed he was quite unable to avert his gaze and began to breathe heavily. As the evening drew to a close guests were invited to dance and Grace led Fred to the small dance floor and for ten minutes or so she entwined herself in his clutch immediately feeling a hard arousal as he pressed himself towards her. With one hand stroking the back of his neck and the other making intermittent darts down his thigh lightly

touching the pulsating bulge she was confident he was totally under her command. And so it proved. As the party broke up Grace suggested a night cap at her flat. It was obvious what this meant but by this time Fred was beyond caring and there was a sense of urgency as the couple made their way quickly to her nearby flat. The door had hardly closed before they locked in an embrace, ripping off their clothes in the process and there followed a prolonged session of love making. Fred was not an experienced lover but Grace led the way taking Fred to places he’d never been before. Eventually exhausted by their efforts they slept. Fred woke early following his usual farm discipline and was immediately overwhelmed by ‘one-night stand remorse’. He knew he would come to regret what had happened, dressed quickly and made to slip out of the flat unseen. As he quietly closed the door behind him Grace called out ‘See you soon Fred’ which only confirmed what he feared most Fred did not have to wait long before his phone displayed a text from Grace saying ‘Got some really good snaps of you Fred!’ Blackmail is an ugly business and Grace was an accomplished practitioner. Fred was made aware that his standing in the community would suffer greatly and his loyal wife Greta would be devastated by the revelation of his indiscretion embellished no doubt by compromising photographs. Grace’s requirements were at first modest and Fred complied: she wanted details of the geological surveys that had been carried out on the Umvukwe range which ran through the estate and which a few years back had drawn considerable attention in the pursuit of possible chrome mining opportunities. This information was likely to be a matter of public record and lulled Fred into believing that her blackmail demands would be manageable. However, each demand was a step up from the one before accompanied by escalating threats and verbal abuse. Fred was trapped. He was too far in to back out and too fearful of what would follow if he refused to comply. This led to heated shouting matches but Grace always stood her ground and faced him down. What she wanted was

unlimited mining rights over Easter estate for no cost and an injection of capital into a new lithium mine the shares from which would be held offshore for the benefit of Grace and colleagues in ZANU-PF. It was an outrageous demand but if it avoided the confiscation of his estate and/or the public revelation of his indiscretion he judged it was the better choice. In his rage and fury Fred had no one to consult being too ashamed to share with anyone the circumstances that had brought this about. This shame was lodged alongside the memory of a torrid night of delight, a feast of sexual pleasure beyond anything he had ever experienced. This left him confused and uncharacteristically hesitant. He was sure that Grace was acting alone – perhaps with the knowledge but not the consent of her colleagues. She had to be removed from the scene and turning this over in his mind repeatedly he decided that if he could engineer a situation where they were alone he would kill her. This could never be achieved with a repeat visit to her flat as she was too smart to take the risk knowing that he was in a dangerous and threatening state of mind. Grace let it be known that she was planning a short break at the luxury Changa Safari Camp on the shores of Lake Kariba in the Matusadona National Park. She knew that Fred owned a boat on Kariba and told him she would visit him there being yet another way of asserting her control over him. In his confused mind he was unclear if this was an opportunity for another sexual encounter or the perfect opportunity to kill her. Or perhaps both: he fantasised that perhaps one could follow the other. In the event when Grace swept alongside Chapunga she was accompanied by three burly hoods who were clearly not included for their conversational skills but to ensure Grace’s safety. It was a particularly unpleasant meeting with Grace determined to demonstrate to her colleagues that she was in complete charge. Notwithstanding this humiliation Fred found himself sexually aroused by her stunning beauty, the self-confidence she exuded and just a hint of an intoxicating musk which escaped from her body – but all to no end. After the meeting and in the same powerful speed boat in which she had

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arrived, Grace left for Kariba town first to drop her colleagues and then to resume her holiday at Changa Safari Camp. As she departed Fred stared out over calm waters of the lake watching the fish eagles perched in the dead trees protruding from the shallows. Every now and then one of these vast creatures would launch itself at an unsuspecting bream making the mistake of venturing too close to the surface; locked in its beak the fish would be carried back to the tree and hungrily consumed some chunks of flesh dropping noisily into the water obligingly devoured by a passing crocodile. It was nature in the raw – something Fred felt had some similarities to his own situation. Fred judged that with Grace staying at the camp right on the edge of Matusadona might provide the opportunity he was waiting for and his plan quickly fell into place. Fred knew Changa well as he had been involved by the owners when they planned the layout of the camp. Changa consisted of a few individual luxury huts the most sought after being some distance from the main camp. As a VIP guest Fred knew this would be where Grace would be located. From his long experience of the African bush Fred knew that the deadliest small snake is the Boomslang. Its blood curdling venom injected deep into the flesh by means of two rear fangs from its wide mouth, opening to nearly 180 degrees, is invariably fatal unless treated immediately with the requisite antivenom. Part of snake folklore was the need immediately to amputate a finger bitten by a Boomslang before the poison enters the bloodstream. Fred’s plan was to plant one of these creatures in Grace’s room in the hope that when she returned there in the evening the Boomslang would do his work for him without leaving any suspicion of foul play. Of course, he could not be certain that Grace would be bitten nor that she could get to Kariba hospital in time for the antivenom treatment. However, given the small size of the snake, resembling a harmless grass snake, there was every chance of a bite and the time taken to reach the hospital would be likely to make the bite fatal. There were moments when Fred paused to reflect on his decision, so out of character, but he quickly put these thoughts aside spurred on by his anger at Grace’s treachery.

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He had put himself in an impossible position from which there was no way out. He knew he could get the snake from a recognised herpetologist in Kariba and he planned to plant this in Grace’s room during the day when she was out on a game drive. From his knowledge of the site this would not be difficult particularly as Grace’s room was some distance from the centre of the camp. His expectation was that when she returned to her room at dusk the snake would be concealed unseen under the bed. Fred told Moffat and his crew that he planned a game walk in the Matusadona Park to observe a newly arrived herd of elephants. With a look of stern determination fixed on his face he set off. It was a blazing hot day, very still, and the reflection of the sun off the lake added to the heat, the only sound being the purring engine as the small speedboat which was attached to Chapunga made its way to the shore. Fred was dropped at an informal staging post on the edge of the lake a few miles from Changa and waiting for him was the herpetologist masquerading as his tracker. Together they made their way carefully towards the camp. It was extremely hot making their progress very slow and their journey was interrupted by a large herd of buffalo making their way to the lake to drink. The wounded buffalo was unseen and after the tragedy which overcame Fred goring him to death, the tracker, first shooting the wounded beast and then making a call for help, disappeared into the bush. By the time help arrived Fred lay alone fatally wounded in a pool of blood the only sound being the flies which quickly homed in on the kill. Grace returned to the camp later the same day. There was no poisonous snake in her room and it was not until the following day that she learnt about what had happened to Fred. She was puzzled and wondered if there was any connection between his death and her relentless blackmail campaign; she realised that questions could be asked about shareholdings in the lithium mine and any connection to Fred. Notwithstanding her ruthlessness, Grace felt some sadness but certainly no remorse. She was more worried that this unfortunate turn of events could severely blunt the impact of her blackmail.

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Chapter 15

ollowing the frustrating meeting with Grace Mvumba at the Department of Mines and Mining Development, James and Jonathan Turner were exasperated. They were convinced that the blackmailing of Fred was connected to his investment in the lithium mine which in turn led directly to Grace the minister in charge of mines. But where did this lead and did it account for Fred’s death? Or was this a pure coincident? They were also conscious that ferreting about for answers was dangerous recalling the distinct impression that Jonathan had of being followed. A few days later an unsigned note was placed in the letter box at the flat addressed to James. It was typed not hand written. ‘Fred Pitzner had a sexual relationship with Grace Mvumba’. That was all. No clue as to who had written the note or why. After the events of recent weeks nothing much surprised James but his first reaction was disbelief knowing of Fred’s close and long-standing relationship with Greta. But Grace was a beautiful woman and he wondered if there was any limit to human weakness, especially in men, when it comes to sexual attraction. Anything was possible. And this could certainly be a basis for blackmail. Without knowing the author or what was expected to be achieved by writing the note, it was difficult to know what to do. James wanted to protect Greta at all costs. She was already suffering from the news of Fred’s death and any suggestion of infidelity would only tip her into further distress. There seemed little point in telling Grace about the note as she was most unlikely to help and would surely deny any such relationship.

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James had good contacts at the British Embassy in Harare and on one of his regular visits there he discreetly asked about Grace but learnt nothing he did not already know except that she was nicknamed the ‘chongololo’. The senior official at the embassy, himself a Zimbabwean, seemed reluctant to explain making vague references to a ‘shiny black surface with a lot of moving parts underneath’. James took this to mean that her outward charm concealed a sinister personality. Shonas are partial to creating nicknames and this was particularly the case with white farmers, now of course much depleted by confiscation. Usually these nicknames were not derogative but perceptive about a person’s characteristics. James recalled Fred telling him about a neighbouring farmer Peter Vining who was known as ‘Bwana Mafuto’ which literally means ‘Fat Boss’. Peter’s vast girth and intimidating buttocks were invariably encircled in outsized khaki shorts as he waddled around his farm. It was said that he had been advised to travel by air only if he could reserve two adjacent seats having previously uprooted an entire row when standing up at the end of a flight the vast buttocks wedged between two arm rests. There was little more James could do and he decided he would now turn all his attention to managing the Harvest Group as he had solemnly promised Fred those many months ago. This would necessitate giving up his nascent investment banking career hoping he could learn enough on the job to cope with the heavy burden of responsibility he was taking on. Fortunately, each component of the Harvest Group had its own management and Jonathan would keep a close eye on the lithium mine and be available for support and advice. He also concluded that Julie and he should get married in the hope she would be alongside him for the challenge which lay ahead. He needed to return to the UK to propose. Before doing so he changed his mind and decided another visit to Grace would have little downside and by showing her the note might conceivably elicit more information. He turned this possibility over in his mind for a few days before finally deciding he should try and set up another appointment. To his surprise Grace’s assistant came back to him within an

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hour of his request suggesting a time the following day. She did not even ask what the meeting was for. He decided to go alone. It was a beautiful late spring day with the jacarandas along all the streets displaying their glorious purple plumage. It was a twenty-minute walk from the flat to the Zimre Centre and as James approached he was overwhelmed by doubts wondering if he was making a huge mistake. But the die was cast and after several gulps of fresh air to steady his nerves he strode into the building. He was clearly expected and without the normal formalities was whisked straight to Grace’s office on the top floor. He waited in the reception area politely greeted by her secretary and after only a few minutes Grace appeared and ushered him into her office. She was on her own and sat behind a highly polished desk without any papers or the usual office clutter. The desk had a large blotter in the centre on which rested a stainless-steel paper knife pointing rather ominously at James who was seated the other side of the desk. Grace said nothing for a few moments and fixed James with a cold stare finally. Then ‘What can I do for you Mr Treadwell?’ James took the anonymous note from his jacket pocket ‘I received this and I thought you should see it’ said James He handed over the letter which Grace read without any hint of surprise or emotion. After a while she handed it back and said ‘Thank you’ Nothing more and an uncomfortable silence descended on the room. After several minutes holding the paper knife firmly in both hands, Grace said ‘Mr Treadwell you are new to Africa and I understand you will now run the business following Mr Pitzner’s death. As your surname suggests be careful of snakes they can be very poisonous. Thank you for coming to see me.’ Grace rose from her desk making it clear the meeting was over and within twenty minutes of his arrival be was back in the street. A chilling experience from which he learnt nothing. He was at least expecting her to deny the contents of the note. If he had any doubts about Grace being a ruthless person these had disappeared. It was impossible to gauge from her

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stony demeanour if the note had any effect on her whatsoever. Still, she was now on notice that someone else knew of her relationship with Fred.

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Chapter 16

his was a particularly difficult time for Julie. She was being pulled in different directions. She loved her studies at the Courtauld now wholly engaged on a thesis on the life and works of Christopher Wood an interest that had been aroused during her earlier visit to Cornwall. At the same time, she missed James and could tell from their frequent Skype conversations that he was finding it difficult if not impossible to disengage himself from the tragedy which had engulfed the Pitzner family. As she lay in bed at night she consoled her loneliness by reviving memories of the night of passion she had shared with James only weeks before. She desperately needed to be with him. It gradually dawned on her that it was likely she would be making her home in Zimbabwe and if this is what it took to be with the man she loved so be it. She had hoped that they would have spent a few years living in London, a city that she was really beginning to enjoy, before returning to Africa. She had met some kindred spirits at the Courtauld and kept herself busy in the evenings and at weekends and made the most of enjoying all that London had to offer. She bought a ticket in the upper amphitheatre of the Royal Opera House to see a wonderful production of La Boheme and a few weeks later a magical interpretation of Swan Lake realising she was more musical than she ever imagined and in each of these performances’ tears rolled down her cheeks in the final moments. Also, she loved the opera house itself treating herself to a glass of champagne in the glorious Floral Hall during the intervals. She made frequent visits to the Royal Academy, the National Gallery, Tate Modern and Tate Britain

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and other galleries marvelling at both the quantum and variety of art available to view in London. With her study of Modern British paintings, her most frequent visits were to Tate Britain and to view the collection of paintings by Christopher Wood. She stood for ages in front of his famous painting Zebra and Parachute completed shortly before his death in 1930 trying to understand what the artist was trying to convey. The image brings together an unusual collection of elements that give the work its surrealistic flavour. A zebra appears against the background of a modernist building. The animal stands on the building’s roof terrace near a raised flowerbed. The distinctive lines of the architecture suggest an abstract arrangement that contrasts with the different pattern produced by the zebra’s stripes. A dark shadow falls just in front of the zebra, casting part of the terrace into semi-darkness and adding to the mysterious atmosphere of the image. In the sky above this scene a parachute is descending and the tiny figure that dangles from the harness appears limp and lifeless. Art critics over the years have attempted to interpret the painting concluding Wood was seeking to create a juxtaposition of the exotic and the man-made heavily influenced by his time in Paris and the other artists he met there: Pablo Picasso and Jean Cocteau amongst them. The distinctive architecture of the building is clearly drawn from the work of Le Corbusier. The surrealistic aspect of this painting suggest Wood was striking off in a new direction at this point of his career tragically interrupted by his early death. Suffering from opium withdrawal he threw himself under a train at Salisbury station in August 1930. The mystery of this painting and the circumstances of Wood’s death gave Julie plenty to reflect on and to enrich the thesis she was preparing. She chaired a debate conducted with her fellow students on the interpretation of the painting and session was lively and went on for hours. Julie visited James’s parents in Swallowfield on several weekends. They were kind, showed polite interest in her studies but she always felt somewhat awkward being there without James. She was questioned, but in a gentle way, about the likely future of her relationship with their son. The interrogation from Emma and Tom James’s brother and sister

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was less subtle. It was clear that James was worshipped by the whole family. When James announced his trip to London Julie nearly exploded with excitement. He concluded a routine skype call with the casual comment ‘I expect to come to London next week’. The overnight flight from Johannesburg was scheduled to arrive at 5:30 in the morning and Julie was waiting at Terminal 5 in plenty of time. She tracked the flight which landed 15 minutes early and watched excitedly as the passengers began to emerge in the arrival hall. Her heart leapt for joy when she spotted him and being unable to restrain herself she ducked under the barrier and ran to greet him throwing herself into his arms. James was overjoyed to see her and they remained locked in an embrace in front of all the other greeters. Eventually they parted and James put his hands either side of her face and staring straight into her eyes said in a loud voice ‘Julie will you marry me?’ To which she replied ‘Yes, yes of course I will. I love you’ Several onlookers who witnessed this broke out into applause and rushed to congratulate them. All of this outside the Costa coffee stall in Terminal 5! James’s spontaneity was unplanned as he had imagined a candle lit dinner for two in some smart discrete west end restaurant. But he could not control his feelings and it was so joyous to see Julie running towards him with such an infectious smile on her face. It was a very happy moment. Breathless and excited they took an Uber into London and spent the day immersed in logistics: telling both sets of parents, Julie’s course at the Courtauld, James’s job, where and when to get married, where to live etc. So many decisions not to say the continuing worry about Fred’s death and all its implications. They decided to have the romantic dinner as had been envisaged by James and spent a happy evening at Julie’s in Holland Park. The restaurant, renowned for its intimacy proved a perfect choice although with so much to talk about they hardly noticed the food. The following day they drove down to James’s parent’s house in Swallowfield and broke the news: although both the

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parents and James’s brother and sister showed no great surprise they were clearly very pleased. With the time change they were all able to have lunch together before calling Julie’s parents in Victoria, British Columbia. Never easy by phone especially as Julie’s parents were not on Skype which would have made it easier. However, given his traditional upbringing James formally asked permission to marry their daughter and assured them that as he did so he was figuratively on bended knee. The conversation quickly turned to logistics: where they were to be married and when. Over dinner the night before James and Julie wondered if it would be possible to get both families to Zimbabwe and be married there. Perhaps at the Victoria Falls. On the phone call it was left that James would look at the possibility of a wedding in Zimbabwe which would also provide the opportunity for both parents to see where the young couple were likely to live. If this proved possible it might also suggest the best timing for the wedding. As James reflected on the various possibilities it occurred to him that if they could involve Greta in some way it might prove a welcome distraction from the grief and anguish she was suffering. Gradually a plan emerged. If Greta was up for it both families would base themselves on Easter Estate have an open-air wedding on the farm followed by a reception in the garden. James and Julie would then have a few days on their own on the boat on Lake Kariba while the others stayed at a lodge beside the lake. They could not all stay on the boat but day excursions could be arranged alternating the passengers so each got the chance to cruise along the lake side and view the game. And finally, if it could be arranged a day or so at the Victoria Falls. Expensive of course but the holiday of a life time. James rang Greta to announce his engagement and sound her out on the plan. She was delighted with the news and sounded enthusiastic about the wedding plans and only too pleased to help. The happy couple returned to London satisfied that things were slowly falling place. Julie decided that she would continue with her course until a few weeks before the wedding and then travel to Zimbabwe to start her new life. She would miss the Courtauld but was encouraged to hear that art was thriving

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in Zimbabwe following the international success of the African sculptors. There was a clear connection between the work of Modern British artists like Barbara Hepworth and the abstract works of the leading African artists. She recalled her visit to Tommy Bloomfields’s farm near the Dixons and the work she saw there. And furthermore, the great majority of this activity was based in Harare. James arranged to see the partners of H Wells to explain the change in his circumstances. In the short time he had been with the firm he has accumulated considerable goodwill and this proved invaluable as they were keen to maintain a close connection whilst recognising that his main role in Zimbabwe would he running the Easter holding company. They suggested that he should be designated as an Adviser to the firm being available on an occasional basis in situations where he could help. A smart move on their part ensuring that any advisory or other corporate finance work in the future would be carried out by them. The plan for their wedding meant it was going to be expensive and James agreed to put together a rough budget to see if both sets of parents were up for it – obviously they would expect all brothers and sisters to be included. When James rang Jonathan Turner with the news he was so excited he said his whole family would attend and if necessary he would contribute to the overall cost. James made it quite clear this would not be necessary. The date which worked well for all those involved was late August or early September which would be outside school and university schedules and not too hot when they were in the low veldt on Lake Kariba. James was only able to stay for a few days as there was so much to do in Zimbabwe but he and Julie had a blissful time together confirming their love and commitment to one another. James could not get over how beautiful she was and felt quite weak at the knees in her presence: although Canadian she was the perfect English rose. Julie kept herself very fit through regular visits to the gym with the figure of a top model. Her tight tee shirts emphasised her fine figure with breasts hinting at a sense of urgency which James found irresistible. He wondered why it had taken him so long to feel the way he did.

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Some months before, on the introduction of a close friend of his father, James had been introduced to a senior diplomat at the Foreign Office responsible for sub Saharan Africa particularly Zimbabwe. He had also developed a close relationship with the British Embassy in Harare and the Ambassador had become a good friend. She (the Ambassador) was in London at the same time as James’s visit and a meeting was proposed at the Foreign Office. James was fascinated to hear the UK government’s view on Zimbabwe and readily accepted the invitation. They were joined at the meeting by a shady looking man who was not introduced and who James assumed was from the intelligence service. The deteriorating situation in the country was discussed and they hoped James could provide a useful source of information particularly on growing unrest in the rural areas and act as a trusted friend to help the Ambassador if the situation was to worsen. He agreed. In the Foreign Office’s analysis, it was a race to the bottom between Mugabe’s declining health and mounting unrest throughout the country as unemployment and even starvation became widespread. James could not return to Zimbabwe without revisiting to the mystery of Fred’s death and he and Julie spent a few hours on his last day considering the facts to find an answer. It was like a jigsaw with a vital piece missing. What was clear was that Fred was being blackmailed, probably by Grace Mvumba with whom he was in a relationship, that he had made an uncharacteristic and highly concealed mining investment and that he had been killed by a wounded buffalo walking in an area that he would always advise against. James felt it was only fair to Julie that she knew all the facts and that in a country like Zimbabwe she should expect events and consequences to be more than usually unpredictable. They drove to Heathrow together for James to catch his plane and clung together in the parking area for a long time before he rushed into the terminal leaving very little margin before the departure gate closed. Julie felt anxious but at the same time excited and as she made her way back to London she realised she was about to embark on an entirely new chapter in her life.

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Chapter 17

onathan Turner was tireless in his quest to figure out how Zimbabwe worked – or not as the case may be. To him everything looked chaotic: nothing really worked and nobody seemed to care. The dwindling white population had long since given up expressing their frustrations and the locals simply shrugged their shoulders, smiled and moved on. He did however come to admire the ingenuity of the business sector which having weathered years of economic sanctions, a perpetual shortage of foreign currency and blatant corruption always seemed to find a way through. With his two new recruits beavering away and analysing a huge number of companies Jonathan felt confident his new fund would be able to make some interesting investments. The coal project in Matabeleland meanwhile was moving forward at pace and a group of investors in the UK personally known to Jonathan had expressed strong interest in co-investing. With the state-owned Wankie colliery only delivering coal intermittently to the power station there was an opportunity to provide supply on a profitable basis. Living at York Lodge was idyllic. Waking to the sound of bird song as the morning sun streamed through his curtains, swimming a few lengths of the pool before breakfast before joining a group of interesting fellow guests, mostly from international NGOs, equally bemused by the state of the country. The lodge was originally a private house clearly owned by a keen gardener and had been tastefully converted into a small family run boutique hotel. Jonathan’s room was a self-contained rondavel located in the grounds a little way from the main building. Lying in bed at night he could hear

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the tall trees swaying in the breeze and during the day the songs of an abundance of colourful birds. It was difficult to imagine the chaos which lay close by outside. Although his days were always busy and evenings often devoted to meeting new people, Jonathan missed his family and planned to make a short trip home. But he was determined to get his feet firmly on the ground before doing so and knew that his wife Gillian would understand. She was so relieved that he had put his City trading days behind him, she would be patient and excited about bringing all the family to Zimbabwe for James and Julie’s wedding. There were moments when Jonathan wondered if he was crazy leaving a good well-paid job in the City and a happy home in the suburbs in exchange for the risky and unpredictable road he had chosen. However, he was determined to make a success of it. The working relationship with James was increasingly productive and their personal relationship was particularly good. James looked to Jonathan to be on top of the financial aspects of the Harvest Group and review the reports from the underlying businesses. Being a publicly listed company, this carried a heavy responsibility as analysts and shareholders demanded up to date and comprehensive information. It was not clear to Jonathan why Fred had decided to list the company on the local stock exchange as very little new money had been raised from the market, only limited trading took place in the stock. Furthermore, the cost of compliance was significant. Following Fred’s death there was continuing questioning from the market about what would happen to Fred’s shareholding and how the group would in future be managed. This uncertainty gave rise to a volatile share price and Jonathan had to suppress his trader’s instincts and not deal in the stock. Jonathan’s remit was complicated by the existence of a 100% privately owned company which operated alongside the public company where certain assets and investments were held. Fred’s investment in Abacus/ Prospect, the lithium mine, being a case in point. It was this investment that caused the greatest concern both because of its size and the complete lack of information. Jonathan’s efforts to get

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more clarity from the registered office in Mauritius produced nothing. He decided after discussion with James to fly to Port Louis and see if by visiting the Abacus office something more useful might emerge. He needed to find a way of exiting this investment without completely sacrificing value. The journey from Harare to Port Louis is not straightforward and involves flying via Johannesburg and on arrival at Port Louis an hour in a taxi – a whole day in fact. The car journey from the airport involves traversing the whole island affording a good view of the terrain punctuated with large mounds of dark rocks – evidence of its volcanic heritage – interspersed with lush pastures and forests. The island is multi-cultural having first been Dutch, then French, then English and finally independent. Port Louis is a bustling seaside town on the north-west tip of the island known for its horrendous traffic jams, vast central market and, in recent years, a booming offshore location for international companies operating in all parts of Africa. No point in slumming it, Jonathan booked himself into Hotel Labourdonnais a very fine establishment right on the waterfront only a few minutes from the business district. The next day armed with a letter of authority from Jeremy Broom Fred’s executor, Jonathan marched into the registered office of Abacus and demanded to see someone in authority concerning the Prospect mining company. Waiting in a stuffy reception area and after a long delay during which his credentials were thoroughly scrutinised he was told that a certain Mr Nishan Gokhool dealt with this company but that he was away from the office until the following day. Jonathan agreed to return the next day at 10 am. Mr Gokhool ushered Jonathan into his office the following day. After the usual pleasantries he explained that the shares Fred’s had subscribed for (via his private investment company) were in effect bearer shares with specific instructions on file as to whose benefit these were to be held. And unsurprisingly he was under no obligation to reveal the intended beneficiary as this was confidential. Recovering his composure Jonathan said it was the wish of Fred’s executors that these shares should be sold and that there was no reference in Fred’s Will that these shares were to be ceded to

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another beneficiary. Mr Gokhool shrugged his shoulders, said he was sorry but there was nothing he could do. Upping the pressure Jonathan said the executors would take legal advice as on the face of it this looked like robbery. Mr Gokhool was clearly uncomfortable but said very little except thanking Jonathan for his visit. A depressing outcome but it did confirm what all along had been suspected – that this transaction was the vehicle for the bribery which Fred had referred to. As Jonathan’s plane back to Zimbabwe was not until the following day he scanned the internet for a law firm in Port Louis and decided to visit the local associated firm of Eversheds a UK firm of solicitors who he had dealt with before in London. He was in luck as the local partner Michael Hough was in his office a short distance from the hotel. They spent an hour together when Jonathan described the situation which he faced. Michael was intrigued as this was something outside his normal run of business. If only to rattle the cage he suggested a letter from his firm to Abacus on behalf of the executors requesting the information Jonathan had asked for. He also suggested instructing them to commence the procedure for a sale of Fred’s shares in accordance with the constitution of Prospect. By early afternoon the letter was finalised and sent by hand to Abacus. Jonathan spent a very pleasant two hours walking around the central market in Port Louis before returning to his hotel. Back in his room he called room service and ordered a beer. Five minutes later there was a knock on his door. Instead of room service, when Jonathan opened the door he was confronted by two very large men wearing face masks. They barged into the room grabbed Jonathan and he was forcibly taken into the bathroom, the sink filled with cold water with his head plunged in and held for what seemed an eternity. Gasping for breath and on the point of collapse he was finally released and the two men rapidly departed. Suffering mostly from shock but also from the inhaled water, Jonathan sank into a chair to regain composure. As he was doing so there was another knock on the door. He did not answer but instead double locked the door. A few moments later a voice from the corridor announced that his beer was waiting outside.

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Jonathan called James later in the afternoon and agreed he should return to Harare the following day as planned. He had many long hours on the journey home to reflect on what had happened realising that he had ventured into thoroughly unfamiliar and frightening territory. The two of them met the following morning at the Harvest flat. The puzzle of Fred’s death was nearly complete. Grace Mvumba and Fred had or were having an affair; she then blackmailed him into putting up the money for the lithium mine in a way that she and her cronies could benefit; and all attempts to find this out were met with violence. The missing piece was Fred’s gory death on the horns of a wounded buffalo – perhaps this was an unrelated coincidence?

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Chapter 18

he unusual circumstances surrounding Fred’s death created a long delay before the funeral as the coroner insisted on a full hearing before releasing the body. This only added to Greta’s grief. It was agreed however that the funeral would be held on the Easter Estate and that he would be buried beneath the giant Msasa tree which stood majestically half a mile from the house. In the very early days on the farm it was beneath this tree that the Pitzners camped before the house was built. Hence its significance. Before the funeral the farm had been through an alarming 10 days when a large proportion of the work force had refused to leave their homes and come to work. At first this was not taken particularly seriously and the farm manager Tom Hammond assumed it might have been a reaction to Fred’s death. However, as it went into the third day it became more serious and Tom visited the main compound where the workers lived to investigate further. What he discovered was extraordinary. Apparently, the main meat canner in Harare had introduced a new low-price product aimed at the local market. On the outside of the can was a brightly coloured label describing the product and featuring a smiling African. Some mischief makers (thought to be students at the university in Harare) put it about that the significance of the smiling African was that he was the contents of the can and anyone with a distinctive X embossed on their shirt was destined for the same treatment. Several workers in the compound discovered this X on their shirts when they dressed in the morning creating terror amongst the workers who then refused to leave their homes. The Shona are highly

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superstitious and this is exactly the kind of thing that freaks them out. James recalled seeing the panic reaction of the workers whenever a chameleon is spotted. The legend goes that the chameleon was tasked with bringing news from the north of the ‘white river’ in which all people bathed to become white. The extraordinary slow speed of the chameleon meant that by the time this news reached the south and the population made the journey north there was only a trickle of water left in the river. This was just enough but no more for the bottom of their feet and the palms of their hands to be whitened. Hence the superstitious fear engendered by the presence of a chameleon. Tony Hammond had worked on the estate for many years and was equal to the challenge posed by this withdrawal of labour. Armed with the company seal for Easter Estate he marched into the compound and suggested that all the workers should have the seal embossed on their shirts to ensure the threat of becoming the contents of a can was totally neutralised. The seal was elaborate and prominent and completely reassured the recipients who immediately returned to work. Greta did not want a large funeral and only a handful of local farm neighbours plus James and Jonathan attended. It was a simple and moving occasion. The highlight was a large unofficial choir mostly comprised of children of the work force who assembled on the front lawn and sang unaccompanied for half an hour. Extraordinary musicality and rhythm with the children swaying as they sang. There was not a dry eye to be seen. Greta was able to conduct herself with great dignity although it must have been very difficult for her to restrain her emotions. In the evening and once the solemn part of the proceedings was over the work force partied well into the night. To facilitate this and control the cost a ‘license’ was granted for brewing a local beer called Chibuku made from maize and sorghum. Brewed in disused 44-gallon petrol drums and drunk in very large quantities with the consumer, if necessary, sitting propped up against a tree to be stable once the alcohol had its effect. As the revellers became inebriated they burst into song accompanied by a loud beating of drums. Only at

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first light did the noise finally subside. The following morning several farm workers suffering from the effects of the party lined up for treatment at the farm office. This was a role which was always carried out by Greta who had equipped herself with rudimentary nursing skills. Curiously the favoured treatment was an injection which could be administered for most complaints short of physical damage. In many cases Greta used a placebo knowing that if a person believes he will get better he usually does. Serious injuries would be referred to the local clinic which was 25 miles away. Fred had also participated in medical care but confined to basic dentistry. This usually involved the patient lying on his back with the offending tooth being removed with an adjustable spanner. To provide purchase and to ensure the patient kept still during the procedure Fred would place one foot firmly on his chest. Basic but effective and always with the promise of an injection afterwards. Being on the estate gave James and Jonathan the opportunity to sit down with Tony Hammond and be briefed on the farming business and plans. They also visited the schools on the farm which had achieved such a good reputation and excellent results. Both were completely mesmerised by the teaching and spent a whole day sitting in lessons and talking with the children. The thirst for knowledge and the enthusiasm and commitment of the children was deeply impressive. There was a good opportunity to expand the schools significantly both to meet the demand from families on the Easter Estate and neighbouring farms. Knowing that this would have been Fred’s wish Tony was given the go ahead with a view to doubling the size of the school over the next two years. James felt confident that it would be possible to bring a few Gap Year students from England to help in the school. Making the school widely recognised for its achievements would also help, although by no means remove, the threat of confiscation or occupation by Government inspired squatters. Thinking about this aspect made them both realise that one of the main reasons Harvest was listed on the local stock exchange was to mitigate against the same risk – many of the investors were local institutions and individuals who would suffer.

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Tony Hammond inspired confidence and James and Jonathan felt they would be able to leave the management of the estate in his hands with minimal interference. Passing on this message meant the visit ended on a positive note. At this stage they were unsure if Greta would return to live on Easter Estate but there was no urgency to make this decision. Fred kept several horses on the farm and would regularly ride in the morning rather than using his Honda motorbike, his normal mode of transport. James and Jonathan, both of whom had ridden as children, decided to ride up into the hills accompanied by the head stable boy himself an experienced rider and good teacher. As they passed through the line of kopjes which stood to the north of the farm they reached several fields which were vulnerable to baboon attacks. Annoyingly the baboons would pillage both tobacco and maize – the former by pulling up the plant and chewing the roots and the latter by stripping off the cobs. Over the years Fred had perfected a solution to this. Being an intelligent animal, a baboon fears the gun and the sight of a hunter appearing thus armed is enough to scare them away. This created an ideal retirement occupation for farm workers who became baboon guards in their later years. Armed with an imitation rifle carved on the farm the guard would patrol the field pointing the rifle at any animal who threatened the crop. Small huts were constructed on the side of the field which became the temporary living quarters for the guard. James and Jonathan stopped to talk with Fife who had been a guard for nearly 10 years, loved his job and beamed enthusiastically at the visitors with his near toothless mouth. Each day his family brought him food. He knew the habits of the predators and prided himself that virtually no damage had been inflicted on the crops during his tenure. He was a popular figure within the community which no doubt explained why there was a waiting list of candidates to take his place in due course. Fife was a skilled craftsman and apart from creating his own rifle he busied himself carving a range of animals which his family would sell by the roadside on the entrance to the farm. James bought a lion and Jonathan a leopard both beautifully carved and polished.

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Toward the end of the ride they were able to get close to the bushman paintings which they had both visited before. They dismounted and walked up the final steep climb to the vast cave. Sitting amongst the paintings and staring out over the landscape filled them with the magic and glory of the African bush: quiet but punctuated with occasional birdsong and the chirping of crickets. A small duiker which appeared briefly in the distance was shy and discrete as it retreated from sight into the thick bush. An enormous Bateleur eagle, recognisable by its distinctive head and white markings, circled overhead its huge wings curved up at the tips as it soared in a large circle using the thermal updrafts as its source of power. The circles became smaller as a small rabbit was sighted feeding bedside a tree. Suddenly the bird folded its wings and dived at high speed and grabbed the animal in its large claws and carried it away at speed using its large wings to power itself upwards into the sky. A wonderful sight -nature in the raw. The spell was finally broken by the bark of a large baboon perched on a rock on top of a kopje nearby. Perhaps this was a message to vacate the sacred place and the signal to make their way home. Baboons are generally not threatening but if trapped can be very dangerous – armed with their powerful incisors. Many a dog, those that survive, can bear witness to this. James recalled Fred telling him that when he started the farm the local farmers gathered once a year for a baboon shoot to control the population and keep them from decimating the crops. Leopard were declared Royal Game and thus protected because of the crucial role they played in controlling the baboon population. Worse still farmers were known to capture a baboon, cover it with bright paint and, with a few metal cans tied to its body, release it into the bush. Trying to join its family the whole tribe would flee in terror. The trip to the farm had been success, Fred’s funeral had passed off with the right level of dignity and respect and it was now the right time for James and Jonathan to make their way back to Harare. The relief of not having to talk about Grace and her machinations was palpable but there was an underlying and unspoken feeling of fear as they made their way home. Greta decided to remain on the farm where she

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would be cared for by the ever attentive Julente who had been a maid in the house for many years.

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Chapter 19

he Umsengedsi River forms the eastern boundary of the Easter Estate. A direct tributary of the Zambezi it flows from south to north and for most of the year carries only a modest amount of water. In the dry winter season and for short periods the river is occasionally reduced to a series of large puddles. But in the summer during heavy rains the river rises massively and at short notice thundering its way downstream towards the Zambezi. On these occasions it flows over the top of bridges, rips trees and other vegetation from the banks and threatens everything in its path. Each year deaths are reported as workers attempt to cross the river and are sucked remorselessly into its swirling current. In the summer months the river supports both crocodiles and hippos – the former always a threat to fishermen on its banks or their dogs and the latter extremely dangerous when returning to the water after foraging on land. A hippo walking through a field of maize leaves it looking as though a motorway has been built through the crop. On the day of James and Jonathan’s return to Harare the heavens opened and for two hours it pelted with rain – at least 2” as measured in the farm rain gauge. The roads turned to streams, culverts overflowed, the garden was flooded and work in the fields had to be abandoned. Not wishing to take any risk they decided to make their return journey to Harare in one of the farm Land Rovers. To reach the main road, it was necessary to cross the Umsengedsi by means of a narrow bridge – built some years ago which, for reasons of cost, was constructed at a very low level only just clearing the water.

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This meant in the wet season the water often flowed over the top of the bridge as was the case on this occasion. They stopped at the edge of the bridge and measured the depth of the water above the surface which although close to the limit for a Land Rover, was acceptable. Driving very slowly ensuring they remained in the centre of the hard surface they made their way gradually towards the far side. Water seeped through the driver’s door but the vehicle remained stable. About half way across and looking upstream they saw a huge tree in the water which had fallen from the bank and was heading rapidly towards them. They was nothing they could do. The trunk of the tree struck the Land Rover at the front right on the side of the engine which immediately stalled. The vehicle was turned by the blow and now faced not the other side but the river downstream. It was a perilous situation and any rise in the water level would shove the car over and into the swirling river. James opened the doors as much as he could to help the water pass through the car rather than pushing it further towards the edge. Fortunately, Jonathan had a mobile phone with him and was able to ring Tony Hammond back at the farm. After several attempts he answered the phone. Jonathan explained their predicament. Tony suggested coming immediately in one of the large farm tractors. Although the farm was only 5 miles away the wait was agonising. Finally, they heard the tractor approaching with a large lifting bucket attached to its front and loaded up with large granite rocks. Tony had one of the farm tractor drivers with him and the idea was first to secure the Land Rover by offloading the rocks against the side of the car on the downstream side. This was a tricky manoeuvre but the skill of the driver made this possible only losing a few of the rocks over the edge during the process. Additional stability was provided by extending the arm of the tractor carrying the bucket and wedging this against the back of the car. Earlier thoughts of pushing the Land Rover across the bridge and up the other side were abandoned because the angle of the car meant it might simply be pushed over the edge and into the water. There was now nothing to do but wait in the hope of the water receding making access to the stricken car possible. There was no question of abandoning the car and

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swimming to the shore as the current was so strong survival was unlikely. Fortunately, it had now stopped raining and the water level began to stabilise and gradually subside. But it was a very long wait and by first light the following morning both James and Jonathan were cold and hungry. Once the water had receded to the point where it was at about the same level as the surface of the bridge the tractor driver made his way cautiously to the front of car and opened the bonnet. It was immediately apparent that the blow from the tree had dislodged the distributor cap. With the aid of the tools he carried with him he was able to replace it. At the same time Tony used the tractor to dislodge the large rocks stabilising the car and signalled to James that he should try and start the engine. It fired first time. Reversing very carefully first to ensure the car was no longer pointing towards the water then moving slowly backwards until they were safely back on the bank. The whole episode had been a frightening and uncomfortable experience but they were revived by a hot shower and a very full English breakfast when they got back to the farm. Later that day they resumed their trip back to Harare this time without incident. As they approached the outskirts of Harare they noticed a newspaper billboard declaring ‘Power struggle for President’. It had been clear over recent months, as the President was increasingly absent from parliament and other state occasions, that a power struggle to succeed him was under way. Power battles for the top job in Africa are often brutal. James and Jonathan had been aware of speculation about the presidential succession which had been the grist of the Harare rumour-mill for many months. But what was fascinating was the addition of Grace Mvumba whose name was recently added to the list of contenders. So, with Mugabe’s wife Grace pressing her case these two powerful ladies looked set for a showdown. Mugabe being a shrewd operator and wanting to reign for ever, even beyond the grave, gave no hint as to his preference. Outside the close ZANU-PF circle there was absolute horror at the thought of Grace Mugabe getting her hands on the levers of power which would explain why the other Grace was receiving

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encouragement. Added to the mix was the vice President Emmerson Mnangagwa, the legendary ‘crocodile’, who enjoyed the support of the military. Mugabe sat back and enjoyed the spectacle occasionally dashing the hopes of one of the contenders by publicly downplaying their prospects. Sadly, there was little prospect that the demise of Mugabe would lead to a major change in the political landscape in Zimbabwe. Ever since the brave attempts by Morgan Tsvangirai to lead the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) into power had been thwarted by blatantly rigged elections, threats of imprisonment and physical beatings ZANU-PF had held firmly onto power. The more so after Morgan Tsvangirai’s death from cancer in 2018. More pertinent to the immediate future was the long queues of vehicles at petrol stations on the outskirts of Harare and an apparent rush by shoppers to the supermarkets. The previous evening the Minister of Finance had announced that the surrogate Zimbabwe Dollar currency which the Government had created was equivalent on a one to one basis to the US dollar. Years of scepticism about Government pronouncements and the canny nature of the Zimbabwean people meant this was interpreted to mean exactly the opposite and everyone who could rushed to fill up their cars and buy as much food as possible using the local currency before it slumped in value. By the following morning it was trading at a substantial discount on the ‘black market’ and the shelves of supermarkets were empty. As politicians have learnt over the ages it is folly to attempt to usurp the power of the market. As they approached the centre of Harare passing the old Salisbury Sports club the sight of a cricket game, with the participants, mostly Europeans, clad in impeccable whites, provided a surreal contrast with the chaos that was evident elsewhere

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Chapter 20

n their return to Harare James stayed at the company flat and Jonathan returned to York Lodge where he immediately met up with several fellow guests, mostly from NGOs, actively discussing the events of the day. There was a consensus that the Government was losing control as each initiative designed to bring about stability had the opposite effect. The aging President appeared to be content with blaming the outside world, particularly Britain, for the country’s dire state in the knowledge that whatever hardship was visited on the nation would not have any impact on him. Regular visits to Singapore for medical treatment in Air Zimbabwe’s remaining long-haul jet accompanied by a large entourage of doctors and nurses, ensured he was kept alive – just. Looking through his messages after dinner he saw an email from Eversheds in Mauritius saying they had still received no response to the letter to Abacus requesting more information. This had been written when Jonathan was there and he knew the letter had been delivered because the hand delivery had been acknowledged with a receipt. The lawyers wanted to know what to do next. He had debated this at length with James and concluded that they had more important things to do than pursue this. The investment had been the price Fred had paid to obscure his indiscretion done in a way which removed his ownership entitlement meaning the chances of recovery were remote. Furthermore, it brought with it threats of violence. More to keep the file alive than expect a result, he would ask the lawyers to insist on a reply. Jonathan was intrigued, not to say a little mystified, by the

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public’s reaction to the deepening economic crisis in the country. Unemployment was at staggering high levels, prices were soaring, corruption had become endemic and availability of essentials was constantly interrupted. These are the ingredients of revolution yet there was none. This, he mused, was unsustainable and the smiling faces which could be seen everywhere would surely turn to scowls. There were increased rumblings of discontent in the towns although not in rural areas. For all his grotesque mismanagement Mugabe remained a hero, the liberator, who had successfully outsourced the blame for all the country’s problems to others, Britain. Although a man of great self-confidence and indefatigable energy, there were moments when Jonathan wondered whether he had made a big mistake in committing himself to a country in such a state. This mood rarely persisted and he was excited at the prospect of the family joining him shortly. The following day James and Jonathan met at the flat for a series of planned meetings with the business heads, each to present a budget review and update. A whole day had been set aside and this was to be a quarterly process and the forum for major investment decisions. They were particularly looking forward to hearing plans for the expansion of the school on the Easter estate. The plans for this expansion were presented with great enthusiasm, a vision that was exciting. It was possible to believe that within a few years a very significant educational establishment could be located on the farm. Already a few GAP students from the UK were lined up to spend a few months at the school and two UK charities, with education in Africa as part of their remit, were showing interest. There was a long discussion about Fred’s shareholding in Harvest which had been the subject of market comment. They decided to make a short statement saying that there was no present intention of selling the holding which would remain held within the family trust. As Greta’s living costs were comfortably met from the dividends received there was no pressure and it was her wish not to sell the shares. James was questioned about his position and his lack of business experience: did it make sense to bring in a new CEO from outside? James was completely open in his

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response acknowledging his lack of experience but saying it was Fred and Greta’s wish that he should take on the task. And he was moving, with his wife to be, to live in Zimbabwe to take up the challenge and if he proved unable to do the job would be the first to say so. But no one should doubt his determination to succeed. His colleagues were impressed with his candour and pledged their support. As the meeting broke for lunch news came through about a horrific traffic accident just outside Harare on the Mutare road. A Mercedes had collided with a bus both vehicles catapulted off the road into the bush. Two passengers in the car were killed but the bus driver survived. Luckily the bus was travelling empty. The Mercedes was an official car and the passengers were Grace Mvumba and her driver. The police immediately sealed off the crash site and within hours both vehicles had been removed and the road re opened. The police were very tight lipped about the cause of the crash merely confirming that a car and a bus had collided without any explanation how it had happened. From the Government and ZANU-PF there were outpourings of sorrow accompanied by admiration for Grace’s achievements and particularly her meteoric rise to power. As the days passed without any further details about the crash there were whisperings of doubt suggesting that perhaps it was not an accident after all. It would not be the first time that an important political figure perished on the road. These rumours were supplemented by suggestions that the positions of the vehicles after the crash were consistent with the possibility that the bus was deliberately driven into the path of the car. What was clear however, was that no further investigation would take place and the incident would soon be buried. For James there were mixed feelings: sadness of course about the tragic death of Grace but some relief that her involvement with Fred and all that followed from this, would be at an end. Now he planned to concentrate on the plans for the wedding. With Julie arriving in a few days there was plenty to do and real excitement as well. Jonathan was asked to be his best man which he accepted with enthusiasm.

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Chapter 21

ulie was gripped by a combination of excitement and fear: marrying a man which she had only really known for a short time and launching into a new life in a faraway country riddled with problems. But the over-arching feeling was one of excitement and as she began to unwind the logistics of her short stint in London this sensation only increased. She did have some concern about how her parents would react to what they would see in Zimbabwe but she knew they had confidence in her judgement and would support her decision whatever doubts they might have. She would miss her work at the Courtauld but was much encouraged by their decision to allow her to continue her work in Harare specialising in Shona art which she believed might open up a number of interesting opportunities. After some debate they decided that Julie’s parents and elder brother George would first travel to London and then all the family together travel to Zimbabwe. The alternative was for Julie to go ahead, help with the wedding preparations and then await her family later. The Clarkson family had never visited London and Julie did her best to cram in a wide selection of sites and activities over a two-day period. Luckily the second day was favoured with a clear blue sky and a trip on the London Eye was spectacular enabling Julie to point out the main landmarks as the giant wheel slowly rotated. They stayed in a small boutique hotel within walking distance of Harrods and George was overwhelmed by the size and range in the famous Food Hall. To prepare him for what lay ahead Julie bought him a stick of biltong! It was also an opportunity for Julie to buy a dress

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for the wedding. They decided to dress casually because it was likely to be hot but a smart white dress would be just right for the occasion. Harrods obliged. Still wrestling with jet lag the short visit to London was exhausting but enjoyable and by the time they boarded the British Airways giant A380 the family was ready for sleep – the best way to pass the 11-hour flight to Johannesburg. After a two hour stop over at Oliver Tambo airport and a quick breakfast they were on their way to Harare which frustratingly they had flown over just a few hours earlier. Harare airport gave the family their first taste of life in Zimbabwe with a chaotic queue of irritated passengers trying to get through immigration, pay for their entry visas and avoid the many hustlers offering a multitude of services. It looked, even to a casual observer, that the visa fees, when paid in cash, quickly disappeared into an official’s pocket. The mood lifted as they left the building to be greeted by a steel band accompanying a troupe of African dancers leaping about with great energy and making a magical sound. In jest James later claimed that this had been laid on by him as his personal welcome! Arriving at York Lodge after the exhaustions of travel was like arriving at a peaceful family house in Surrey. A kind welcoming family and most comfortable rooms all set amidst a beautiful garden. The Treadwell party arrived at York Lodge by a different route. They decided to spent a few days in the Cape on their way to Harare and enjoyed a short stay in Constantia and then at a vineyard just outside Stellenbosch. They were over awed by the beauty of both and pleasantly surprised by how inexpensive it was. It was a great introduction to Africa and in future South African wine would certainly feature on their dining table. James and Julie stayed at the company flat which was destined to be their first home. Jonathan Turner had rented a house in Borrowdale a smart suburb of Harare as he and his family decided to stay in the country for a while after the wedding. On their first evening they joined the others, including James and Julie, at York Lodge and this was a good opportunity for the three families to meet and to get to know one another. After a slightly

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awkward start they all relaxed no doubt facilitated by some excellent wine. After a good meal the families sat around for several hours under a starlit sky and for all appearances might have been old friends catching up with their respective lives. It augured well for the events to come. The same evening Jonathan received some unexpected news. An email from Eversheds in Port Louis told him that Abacus was now able to transfer Fred’s 21% shareholding in Abacus in accordance with the terms of Fred’s Will and that they awaited instructions. The message added that the shareholders agreement meant that if a decision was made to sell this would need to follow the pre-emption provisions and offer the shares to the existing shareholders. The email concluded by suggesting this unexpected situation necessitated a quick decision. Rather than burden Greta and the need to explain how this had come about, Jonathan talked with James on the phone and agreed that the shareholding should be transferred to a charitable trust set up for the purposes of helping children avail themselves of education at the two schools on the farm. As the investment was not held by the public company this could be done without creating any conflicts of interest and in due course Greta could become a trustee. It felt like an elegant solution and avoided entanglement with the other shareholders. The day of the wedding was perfect. A beautiful pink sky heralded the dawn and many of the party at York Lodge rose early, walked in the garden and some swam before enjoying a hearty breakfast. As the sun rose the sky became diamond blue and meant that the wedding celebration would be held outside in perfect conditions. After breakfast two smart mini vans collected the whole party now gathered at York Lodge, except Julie who was driven by Jonathan, and made their way north to the farm. There was a lot to see on the way and in each vehicle, there was someone to provide answers to the many questions. They had a brief pause at Mazoe Dam enjoying freshly squeezed orange juice from the surrounding citrus estate. Sadly, this once magnificent estate, originally developed and owned by The British South Africa Company, producing the world renowned Mazoe citrus drinks, was now half abandoned and completely degraded making it a sorry sight.

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Greta had done a stellar job in preparing the house and garden for the wedding: the long borders either side of the main lawn displayed a profusion of brightly coloured cannas in full bloom. In the centre of the lawn she had placed a discrete awning to act as an altar for the service as well as shelter from either rain or strong sun. Chairs for about sixty guests were placed on the lawn: apart from family only a few local families had been invited, those who had come know James when he worked on the farm. The vicar from the local church had agreed to officiate and was already pacing about the garden when the family cars arrived. Greta had arranged a buffet lunch and Tony Hammond was on hand to take those interested around the large collection of farm buildings, stables, dairies and a vast assembly of farm machinery. Those not interested relaxed in the shade, admired the view and waited for the proceedings to commence. The event had also attracted the interest of other inhabitants on the farm and using powerful binoculars a small troupe of baboons could be sighted perched on a large rock high up on one of the large kopjes overlooking the house. From time to time to ensure they had been noticed loud barks were unleashed echoing loudly through the hills. Later in the afternoon shortly before the service was due to begin a large gathering of farm workers arrived and positioned themselves on one of the side lawns, the grownups standing and the children sitting on the grass. This was to be the choir. As the guests began to arrive and take their seats the choir began chanting a soft melody – without any musical accompaniment yet in perfect harmony. Julie and her parents stayed in the house ensuring the fine white dress from Harrods was made ready; and her mother helped her change and prepare for the solemn moment which approached. At the appointed hour Julie walked down into the garden, clasping the arm of her father, through the floral arch and onto the lawn. Heads turned and the assembled choir resumed their moving chant. James was waiting in the makeshift altar and turned to greet Julie as she approached. She looked stunning and her wide smile and sparkling smile signified the joy and happiness she felt. James felt tears in his eyes. What followed was a simple service faithfully following

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the King James text as the happy couple duly made their vows to one another. As the vicar pronounced them man and wife the choir bust into jubilant song with a beating of drums as the children stood and provided a soaring descant swaying from side to side. James and Julie walked the length of the garden showered with congratulations from their guests. The brilliant cannas provided the perfect floral backdrop as the couple made their way back to the house. As always in Africa the transition from dusk to darkness is quick and shortly after the service was over the chairs had been moved and the lawn converted into a reception space. Canapés and drinks were quickly ferried from the house to the guests chatting amiably to one another. Without any forewarning a small firework whistled into the air right above the guests. As it reached its full height a star burst gushed forth followed by an almighty bang. This was the prelude to an astonishing firework display which lasted about 15 minutes – a dazzling array of colours, bangs and rockets culminating in a cluster of light and noise right above the reception. The guests stood transfixed by the display with much oohing and erring as each wave took to the air. The choir had never seen anything like it before and to start with took cover in the garden but as they realised this was not some attack from the Gods they too joined the celebration. James and Julie watched the display with admiration without knowing who had organised it. It transpired that this had been Jonathan Turner’s wedding present and that for some weeks he had conspired with Tony Hammond the farm manager to organise the event. After the excitement of the firework display the guests gradually drifted away and the family party were left to reflect on a magical occasion. It was a warm evening and they did this by sitting in swimming pool loungers, sipping champagne and staring up at the star lit African sky. With no light pollution and a clear evening, it was a wonderful sight sparkling with millions of stars and occasionally interrupted by a shooting star racing across the sky before disappearing over the horizon. Everyone got up late. But after a hearty breakfast and before returning to Harare the whole party decided to make

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an expedition to the bushman’s paintings. The last part of the journey is a steep climb and there was much panting before they finally reached the cave. But the effort was worthwhile and those who had never seen this ancient art before were mesmerised. As they sat on the rocks smoothed by the occupants many centuries before, a single chongololo made its way cautiously across the floor of the cave then, sensing their presence, suddenly coiled itself in a tight ball. Later in the day the guests all bid farewell to Greta and made their way back to Harare. Obviously, after both the funeral and the wedding, Greta was likely to feel deflated but with Mona Dixon staying with her she decided to remain on the farm where there was plenty of work in the garden to keep her mind occupied. Also, encouraged by Julie’s parent, she began to plan a visit to Canada later in the year. Greta had never travelled extensively and planning this trip was a new and exciting experience.

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Chapter 22

y the time the Clarkson family arrived back at York Lodge they were exhausted. It had been an extraordinary introduction to Africa set against the background of Fred’s tragic death, the death of a senior government minister in mysterious circumstances and the joyous wedding of their daughter. As they relaxed in the hotel garden before dinner they reflected on the radiance of both James and Julie as they made their commitment to one another. They had never seen Julie happier and in the short time they had known James, he had made he had made a most favourable impression. They were taken by his maturity and calmness in confronting the vast range of complex issues and responsibilities which lay ahead and the care and attention which he bestowed on Greta. York Lodge provided an oasis of calm to reflect on all of this. Before arriving in Zimbabwe they had not known about the circumstances of Fred’s death nor the connection with Grace Mvumba and it was difficult to put these troublesome events to one side. During their stay in Zimbabwe the Clarksons decided to spend time visiting other parts of the country the Victoria Falls and Lake Kariba. In the event and in view of the logistics, they decided only to visit the falls and the following day, with both Julie and George her brother included, flew from Harare to Victoria Falls. Using his influence James had managed to procure two good rooms at the Victoria Falls Hotel and after the short flight and a hotel car journey, they checked in. The flight afforded a stunning view of the falls with the spray visible from a distance as the plane approached. One of the seven wonders of the natural world,

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no description of the falls can ever exaggerate its effect on a first-time visitor. The family loved the hotel. Not just the magnificent views towards the bridge crossing the river and the falls themselves but also the rich colonial splendour which was evident from the décor and paintings in the public rooms. The following day they walked through the rain forest on the edge of the falls experiencing the massive cascade of water almost beneath their feet. Drenched but exhilarated they walked back to the hotel spending the rest of the day relaxing by the pool. Fortunately, James had already regaled the family about the episode with the gusset exploding lady bungee jumper so there were no volunteers for this form of excitement! Julie’s brother George, a teacher with a special interest in geography, became fascinated studying a detail map of the area. In particularly the Caprivi strip a 280 mile ‘panhandle’ projection of Namibia which facilitated a border with the Zambezi river on the eastern side of the country creating borders with Angola, Botswana and Zambia. This resulted from a deal done with the British government by Count von Caprivi, the German imperial chancellor, in the naïve hope that the Zambezi would provide the German colony with navigable access to German East Africa. Unfortunately, they forgot to notice the river was comprised mostly of rapids and more importantly that the world’s largest waterfall stood in their way! George, brought up in the belief of German efficiency, was completely shocked. John Clarkson, Julie’s father, was something of a train fanatic. From an early age he had built tracks and stations for his Hornby train sets in his bedroom which was a maze of railway hardware looking like a combined goods yard and passenger terminal. He also had an extensive collection of magazines describing all the various forms of locomotives found throughout the world. Before they left Canada, he had noticed that the state-owned railway network in Zimbabwe were still using the much-admired Garrett locomotive one of the few remaining steam engines in operation. Encouraged by this he planned an alternative route home. Instead of returning to Harare and then flying down to Johannesburg to catch the flight home, they would take the train from

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Victoria Falls to Bulawayo and from there fly to Johannesburg. James agreed to join the family on their last night and Julie would make her way back to Harare with him. She was not mad about the prospect of a night courtesy of Zimbabwe Rail, but it would enable the family to remain together for as long as possible before they left. The plan would also allow a day visit to the north end of the Okavango Delta in Botswana, easily accessed from Victoria Falls and a day in the Matopos National Park, a UNESCO world heritage site just outside Bulawayo. As the concierge at the hotel was asked to reserve two sleeper compartments on the train, Julie could not help but notice a slight rise of the eyebrows as the request was made. Clearly not a frequent request. The concierge warned that the train was notoriously unreliable but given the proximity of the hotel to the station the family could stay at the hotel until they knew for certain that the train was operating. This warning caused a slight hesitation but, in the end, they went ahead in the knowledge that the worst that could happen would be an extra night in the hotel. The following day the party set off for Okavango in a comfortable 4X4 supplied by the hotel and quickly covered the short distance to the Botswana border. The Okavango Delta is a World Heritage Site covering at its height 15,000 sq. kms in the heart of the Kalahari Basin, an alluvial fan, mostly flat, characterised by lush papyrus swamps, flood plains, a network of channel lagoons and dotted with many islands. Flood waters from the Angolan highlands are fed through the Okavango River taking three months to reach the delta as there is only a 60m drop in elevation from its source 1000km away. Okavango attracts large groups of animals especially in the dry season and is one of the largest and most important wetlands in the world with 2500 species of plants, 20 large herbivores and their attendant predators and more than 450 species of birds. This includes Africa’s Big Five – elephant, lion, leopard, rhino and buffalo and one of the few places where all these animals can be found in the same area. Given the short visit the main achievement was to stimulate a strong desire to return and stay for a longer visit

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in one of the many camps in the delta. But nonetheless, when they stopped for lunch beside the water a large herd of elephants entertained them with an energetic display of swimming and bathing with the young being comprehensively sprayed by their mothers. The party returned to the hotel back in Zimbabwe at supper time to await news of the overnight train to Bulawayo. Their expectations had been suitably prepared so it was a pleasant surprise when the concierge announced that the train was just leaving Livingstone and would be at the station in about an hour. John Clarkson was a picture of unrestrained excitement was as the vast Garrett locomotive pulled into the station with clouds of steam hissing out from the engine. A kindly porter found their reserved compartments and after a short delay and much shouting and whistling on the platform, the train slowly made its way out of the station. The carriage was still in fine condition with wood panelled walls dating from many years back, as evidenced by the logo ‘Rhodesian Railways’ etched on the windows. Each compartment had a basin and two bunks which when folded back and not in use formed part of the seating arrangement. Shortly after the train departed a ‘valet’ appeared, pulled down the bunks, and with great skill unravelled a bedding roll for each bunk and within a few minutes the compartment was transformed into sleeping accommodation. Everyone was exhausted from a busy day and wasted no time in clambering into their bunks. The upper berth was equipped with a safety sideboard to prevent any unplanned exit during the night. The narrow-gauge railway track ensured the train could only proceed at a leisurely pace and with several stops during the night, arrival at Bulawayo was not scheduled until 8 am. Shortly before arrival the same valet appeared with a cup of tea and a rusk for each passenger together with an updated arrival time. They were puzzled by the rusk (a southern African custom) but when dipped in tea was surprisingly good. The train pulled into Bulawayo station with much fanfare on the platform, including a loud beating of drums, and only about half an hour behind schedule.

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Waiting on the platform was a concierge from the Amalinda Lodge, located in the Matobo National Park, and with great efficiency the baggage was quickly loaded into the waiting mini bus. Amalinda is an unusual lodge almost entirely embedded in the granite caves and kopjes for which the area is famous. The walls of most bedrooms are granite imaginatively carved into luxurious accommodation and the sitting and dining areas overlook the spectacular landscape and an infinity rock pool. James had of course already visited Matopos and was able to recall much of the history which he had learned from Ralph Lilford. The lodge made a perfect retreat for the family to spend their final 2 days together in Africa and they understood why this place had mesmerised Cecil Rhodes and chosen by him for his final place of rest. On the second day a visit was arranged to the game park to view the concentration of white and black rhinos for which the area is famous. A spectacular sight enhanced by scores of black eagles circling overhead. At the end of the day they walked up World’s View past Rhodes’ grave to absorb the grandeur and stillness of the place and its hallowed reputation. The vast range of different rock formations that nature had created punctuated the landscape adding to its mystique. As a sign of days gone by they drove past REPS (Rhodes Estate Preparatory School) Fred Pitzner’s school, once the leading prep school in the country, now a shadow of itself. Many of the buildings were in an advanced state of disrepair and the once verdant playing fields overgrown and abandoned. The following morning James and Julie bade farewell and made their way back to Harare where they would start their new life as a married couple. It had been a memorable family visit and Julie was sure that her parents and family would soon be back. The same afternoon the rest of the party were dropped off at Joshua Nkomo International Airport to begin their long journey home. John Clarkson, muttering to himself, continued to marvel at the splendour of the Garrett steam locomotive!

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Chapter 23

obert Gabriel Mugabe had been in power so long most Zimbabweans had no recollection of any other leadership: first as Prime Minister in 1980 and from 1897 as President until being forced out of office in 2017 at the age of 94. He characterised perfectly the corrupting effect of power starting his leadership as moderate and consensual advocating racial reconciliation after the bitter guerrilla war but ending his reign accused of being a dictator responsible for economic mismanagement, widespread corruption, electoral fraud, anti-white racism, human rights abuses and crimes against humanity. A once thriving self-sufficient country had been reduced to impoverishment, a declining economy, decimated infrastructure, a destroyed currency, high unemployment and widespread starvation. Ordinary Zimbabweans bore the brunt of this decline while Mugabe and his coterie of supporters lavished upon themselves a luxury lifestyle. Mugabe’s descent into dictatorship was accelerated by his second wife Grace, previously his secretary, who quickly acquired an appetite for self-indulgence with an interest in shopping, clothes and jewellery. As Mugabe’s advancing years foreshadowed an end to his reign Grace sought to protect her privileged position by positioning herself as his successor no doubt as a student of Eva Peron and Imelda Markos. She became highly manipulative seeking to undermine and discredit any rival contenders including persuading the aging President to dismiss his second in command Emmerson Mnangagwa to clear the way for her own ambitions. ‘The snake must be hit on the head’. In attempting to poison Mnangagwa however

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she went a step too far and provided the spark that finally lit the flames of discontent within the ruling party ZANU-PF and the military. Mnangagwa fearing for his life left the country and with his friends in the armed forces, who strongly favoured his leadership, planned for a soft coup orchestrated by Constantino Chiwenga head of the military. Several weeks beforehand Mugabe had demanded that Chiwenga pledge his loyalty to Grace on pain of death. He refused to do so. The British Embassy in Harare followed these events with a keen interest. On several occasions during the previous 20 years when the Mugabe government metered out rough justice to the dwindling population of white citizens, particularly farmers, the British Government contemplated attempts to remove him from power but on each occasion stepped back judging that the risk was too great. Any such attempt would be characterised as a desire to turn back the clock and re-assert colonial rule. Such a perception would be very damaging in the rest of Africa and provide even greater opportunities for others, particularly the Chinese, to fill the gap left behind. James with his close relationship with embassy in Harare and the Foreign Office in London was in frequent contact providing intelligence about the mood in the country particularly in the rural districts. There was little doubt that in the major towns support for Mugabe was dwindling fast and that his core supporters were to be found mainly in rural areas where interest in and involvement with politics was much less. However, James detected that even here Mugabe was losing support as workers became cynical about his repeated explanation that the failing economy was due to sanctions and interference from abroad particularly by Britain. Being a shrewd tactician Mnangagwa felt it was right to sound out foreign reaction to his coup beforehand and he let the British embassy in Harare, officials in South Africa and the Chinese government know what he had in mind. He also reasoned that in telling the British a message would also reach the USA. In this process he did not seek approval nor did he request support; he simply wanted to gauge reactions. Being the opportunists, they are he obtained support from

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China with their ambitious commercial plans, particularly in the mining sector. In conditions of great secrecy, the British government considered the proposition recognising that they were placed in an awkward position; however much they wanted to see the back of Mugabe they did not in want in any way to be a party to a coup. James was asked to accompany the Ambassador to London for two days of talks at the foreign office. In conclusion they sent a message to Mnangagwa that Britain would play no part in his plan, they would condemn any use of violence and should he be successful would expect an early election to legitimise his leadership – the implication being that with these provisos they would be supportive. The Americans concurred. Of course, they also hoped a change of leader would bring an end to the disastrous economic policies which had ruined the country. South Africa adopted a similar neutral position although they were only too pleased to contemplate a change of leader provided no blame could be attributed to them: the worsening economic situation in Zimbabwe had created a flood of refugees heading southwards. Armed with these soft endorsements and support from the military a plan was drawn up. They had no time to waste as they feared Grace would be seeking to take over even if it meant disabling the President. The plan was simple: tanks and troops would appear at dawn in Harare on the pretext of stabilising the country, Mugabe’s official residence would be surrounded on the pretext of protecting him and he would be invited to resign. If he refused the party would eject him and institute impeachment proceedings at a specially convened ZANU-PF meeting in a few days’ time. They would also keep a very close eye on Grace; correctly they assumed she would go into hiding, possibly leaving the country, fearing for her life. Troops would also occupy and silence the Zimbabwe Broadcasting Corporation (ZBC). James stayed several nights at the British Embassy in Mount Pleasant in the suburbs of Harare waiting for events to unfold. For about a week in early November intelligence reports reaching the embassy suggested a flurry of activity as Mugabe fearing that a coup was imminent worked desperately to shore up his leadership egged on by an

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increasingly fearful Grace. Attempts to arrest Chiwenga at the airport on his return from China were successfully resisted as a tip off alerted him to the danger and a highly trained squad of special forces were on hand to protect him. The stakes were high and if the coup failed for any reason Mnangagwa and his supporters would be doomed. Mounting a bloodless coup, particularly in Africa, is no mean feat. But this was achieved and after several days of intense negotiation Mugabe realised the game was up and resigned, comforted no doubt by an assurance of continuation of his lifestyle with many of the perks of high office. News of his resignation was greeted with celebrations in the streets. These expressions of joy were tempered by the knowledge that his successor would be a man who served for many years as Mugabe’s number two, associated with many acts of violence earning him the moniker as ‘the crocodile’ The resignation news was greeted with a mixture of relief and joy at the British Embassy and in James’s case it was like a release from captivity. The grey sombre surroundings with its standard Foreign Office décor added gloom to the tension of waiting for a result and the jubilation felt when the tanks appeared on the streets signalled that the end was in sight. As James made his way back home by car he reflected on how a six-month work experience on the farm a few years back had gradually transmogrified into his present role as adviser and part time intelligence officer as well as CEO and part owner of Harvest one of the largest listed companies in Zimbabwe. When James was away Julie always stayed in their flat in Harare. Naturally she had been concerned about James particularly as he was unable to share with her exactly what his role was. If there had ever been any doubt, their new life in Zimbabwe would lack neither excitement nor challenge.

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