Hajo, a German hitchhiker and I, left Harare, the capital of Zimbabwe at 0400hrs and travelled down to Mkwasine, a distance of just over 500kms. The purpose of the visit was to see what had become of my farm since I had been forced off, two-and-a-half years previously, by the Zimbabwean Governments Land Reform Program. Maioio Farm was now in the hands of State selected ‘new’ farmers.

As we drove onto Maioio Farm, I was surprised to see that sugarcane was still alive, but on closer inspection, saw that it was only the cane by the main road that was in good health, the cane in the background, was a disaster. The new occupants had worked over, and had totally destroyed the many kilometres of drip-irrigation that had been installed at such great cost, and they had attempted to convert the fields back to flood-irrigation, a cheaper but much more wasteful form of irrigation.

Since I had left the farm, sugar cane yields have dropped by over half in the past three years. Inputs such as fertilizers, chemicals and herbicides have been zero, and there has been no re-planting of cane since 2002 - normally, as in standard practice, it should be happening every year on a 5 year rotation. It was obvious, that management was lacking and many ‘new’ farmers are now finding that farming is not as easy as it seemed.

When we drove down the tree-lined avenue to the main farmhouse, I was saddened at the state of the farm which I and my wife, had left under extreme pressure. What used to be a well graded road down to the homestead, was now covered in weeds and bushes. The main gate of the homestead was locked but we could see that the house was not being lived in at all and the once immaculate garden that we had, was now a jungle of weeds - thank goodness Joan, was not with me. The workshop area was also locked. So too, the pack-shed, which at this time of the year, should have been a hive of activity - instead it was deathly silent.

We retraced our steps up to the main irrigation dam of Maioio Farm, where two of my ex-employees, who were now working for the new ‘owners’ - met us. They expressed surprise and excitement at seeing me again. Normally, at this time of the year, we would have had at least 150 to 200 workers, busy, reaping the citrus as well as the cutting of sugarcane. Today, there were only 4 workers irrigating the citrus, and a few more which we didn’t meet, irrigating the cane.

The truth is, that since I had left Maioio, there had been no spraying, fertilizing, pruning or weeding in the orchards and the sad condition of the trees told their story. In the grapefruit orchard, previously the most valuable piece of ground on the farm, the leaves were pale yellow, there was prolific die-back and what fruit was left, lay rotting on the ground. The oranges, which were not in any better condition, would now have to be consumed on the local market, where just a few years ago, was a valuable export crop, contributing to our economy.

The cell-phone in one of the ex-worker’s pocket rang. It was Mr Musekwa the policeman/farmer from Harare, the very guy, who had given me a couple of good slaps around the face in the ‘bad ole days’, described in my book ‘Jambanja’. “What are you do doing on my farm?” he said.

I answered with heavy sarcasm - “I’m looking at some of the most magnificent oranges I’ve ever seen. You really are a great farmer!”

It flew straight over his head.

“Will you come and work for me?” he asked.

From Maioio we drove around Mkwasine Estate. The condition of the main canal delivering water to Mkwasine had to be seen to be believed. Trees were growing out of the edges of the canal, a sure recipe for the total destruction of the main artery of water from Manjirenji dam, 30 odd kilometres to the north and the life-blood of the Estate. If water did not get to Mkwasine, there was absolutely no future at all.

In general, the new settlers’ cane was in poor condition in spite of them receiving cheap fuel ($Zim1000 per litre versus US$1/litre at the black market rate (150,000:1). Not only this, the ‘new boys’ were getting cheap fertilizer, and substantial assistance from the Millers with the cutting and haulage of the cane to the Mills. What a slap in the face for the former commercial farmers who, up until 2002, produced 30% of the national cane crop, and would never have received such handouts.

After I dropped my German hiker off in the little town of Chiredzi and made my way pensively back to Harare, I thought of the changes that I had seen in the last three days, and realized the significance of seeing the last of the white commercial farmers being systematically removed. Little thought had gone into the Land Reform exercise and let’s face it, the Millers were taking full advantage of the situation. In their eyes, there would be no more demands from the die-hard commercial farmers who demanded fair-play, and, as more and more of the new inexperienced farmers’ crops failed, the new farmer had no say or experience on pricing, for both export and local sales – nor, would he gain payment for his sales from the by-products such as bagasse and molasses. Even though, the initial exuberance of gaining their new farms at the expense of white farmers, the new settlers would dance completely, to the tune of the Millers. What had taken many years to establish a fair deal for the private sugar farmers and their very survival, had now disappeared. Tragically, there could only be one result - the land would revert to the Millers, and they were rubbing their hands with glee.

As I drove, I thought to myself - “Where are we going?” I thought of all Joan and I, and the good relations we had with our labour. Where had we failed? Were we, blacks and whites, any closer now than in Cecil Rhodes’ day? Was there anyone from both of my son’s schools, Peterhouse, Ruzawi, Prince Edward, who could stand up in Parliament and show that they did give a damn for the long term salvation of this country?

This government had so much to answer for, and until they changed their attitude, who at this time could ever argue that Dr. Albert Schweitzer was wrong when he quoted the following words:-

I have given my life to try to help alleviate the sufferings of Africa.

There is something that all white men must know, as I have, that these individuals are sub-race. They have neither the intellectual, mental, or emotional abilities to equate or to share equally with white men in any of the functions of our civilization. I have given my life to try to bring them the advantages which our civilization must offer, but I have become well aware that we must retain this status - white the superior and they the inferior. For whenever a white man seeks to live amongst them as equal, they will either destroy him or devour him, and they will destroy his work. And so for any existing relationship or for any benefit to this people, let the white men from anywhere in the world who would come to help Africa, remember that you must continually maintain this status, you the master and they the inferior, like children that you would help or teach. Never fraternize with them as equals. Never accept them as your social equals or they will devour you. They will destroy you”.

I sincerely hope that time will prove that he was wrong.

Eric Harrison.