"Concern for man and his fate must always form the chief interest of all technical endeavors. Never forget this in the midst of your diagrams and equations" - Albert Einstein.
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| The Reluctant Farmer |
by Kudakwashe Kanhutu
I will never be a crop farmer, let someone else do it instead. I do not necessarily say those who taught me crop farming as a youngster completely wasted their time but, all the same, hell will have to freeze over first before I become a crop farmer again. And, even then, you will still have to capture me as I make my escape on my souped-up snowmobile. Crop farming is just too much work! Well, at least in my experience as a young boy growing up in deep rural Zambezi Valley.
In this entry of my blog we briefly revisit some of the experiences in my youth that made me decide against crop farming as an occupation. But after government (Yes, you heard right: after government!) in retirement, I wouldn't mind animal husbandry. So I visited a farm in Durham to see, first hand, what goes into such an operation.
Agriculture and War
I have already said elsewhere that the essential branches of knowledge for humanity are defence and agriculture while other professions like law and politics are mere adjuncts. That proposition still holds for me;
"Now, if men form parties, the arguments and dissensions in the country will be of confusing diversity; the lower classes will be amused and the great men will enjoy it, with the result that amongst such a people farmers will be few and those who, in idleness, live on others will be many. These latter being numerous, farmers will be in a perilous position, and this being so, land will be left lying fallow. If study becomes popular, people will abandon agriculture and occupy themselves with debates, high-sounding words and discussions on false premises; abandoning agriculture, they will live on others in idleness, and seek to surpass one another with words. Thus the people will become estranged from the ruler, and there will be crowds of disloyal subjects. This is a doctrine which leads to the impoverishment of the state and to the weakening of the army. Indeed, if a country employs people for their talking, then the people will not be nurtured in agriculture; so it is only an intelligent prince who understands that by fondness for words one cannot strengthen the army nor open up the land. Only when a sage rules the country will he strive for singleness of purpose and for the consolidation of the people in agriculture, and for that alone" - The Book of Lord Shang, Chapter 3 Agriculture and War.
So, before I go on to educate you on how I came to hate..., I mean dislike crop farming, let me assure you that I have done it and if the prince of the day ever required me to do it - as a national security concern - I would easily manage it again. But I have taken steps to make sure I will not be the obvious choice to be called back to it. How you ask? I will tell you how;
The universities that accepted my applications on my return to education were Goldsmiths College (Classics), Royal Holloway (History), King's College London (War Studies - deferred) Royal Agricultural College (Agriculture) and University of Kent (Conflict, Peace and Security). There was no soul searching, no sleepless nights deciding which course to take; Agriculture was dropped like it was scorching hot!
My return to education should also not be confused with the love of knowledge for its sake that afflicts so many academics. My return is instrumental - as evinced by my manifest inability to analyse inessential theories to the death. I just needed a higher level of critical thought training so as to be able to communicate and execute my ideas better, but that's a story for another day... I paid the Royal Agricultural College a courtesy visit but I had already made up my mind to study statecraft at its highest level in Kent.
Thus I chose, in a heartbeat, to engage with strategic studies. Such study can be said to stand slightly above agriculture in that it is the study of how to employ all the material and ideational resources at the country's disposal so as to strengthen one's own side in the contention of the nations.
"A sage, therefore, in organizing a country causes the people in home affairs to adhere to agriculture, and in foreign affairs to scheme for war. Now, agriculture makes the people suffer hardships, and war makes them run dangers, and the means whereby they can be led to encounter hardships and to perform actions that expose them to danger, is calculation.... If enemies are conquered and at the same time fields do not lie fallow, then without moving, the result will be obtained of having both wealth and strength" - The Book of Lord Shang, Chapter 2, The Calculation of Land.
Therefore I decided to stand above these two essential fields but with an inclination towards the profession of arms so that my prince, if he is sagacious, can only call on me for war rather than agriculture.
But why do I try to avoid crop farming like the plague?
Agriculture Is Hard
Or to be precise, the way I did it in my youth was hard...
I am talking to you now about when we were between the ages of 5 - 12 years old. Forget the nonsensical claims in the West that this is child labour; the proper word for it is self-help. What? I should starve to death because I am 11 years old instead of just going to the fields I own already and grow my own food??
During the holidays we worked in our fields everyday as soon as it became light enough to see at the crack of dawn until it became too hot, then we would return to the fields again in the evening till it became too dark to see. On school days my grandfather made my brother Douglas and I - as the older boys at home - go to the fields before we went to school so as to ensure the crops would not fail (and our school grades had to be high too - and they were high!). The early morning work was usually weeding a particularly bad patch of the field followed by a dash to school before the first bell.
We also had to sometimes sleep in the field hut to scare away elephants and wild pigs so that they would not destroy our crops when it was near harvest time. This involved lighting fires and making an almighty racket with metals cans, drums and what have you. I don't remember that being succesful though. But while this work was hard, I was quite amenable to it because it was ours, our grandfather found this place for us, we cleared the virgin land to farm it ourselves, we would not ask for permission from anyone to eat any of the food we produced and (now) no force on earth can take this land from our family.
I think it was the work that I had to do for my primary school - Muringazuva Primary - that made me disdain crop farming. My primary school, being thoroughly improverished, had an arrangement with the local farming operation whereby from grade 5 - grade 7 we would go to do some work there and that farm would pay the school an amount for that work. The school would then use it for the betterment of our school. The farm is Agricultural Rural Development Authority (A.R.D.A) Mzarabani Estate.
To be sure, the money we worked for there was used on our school for we never bought pens or exercise books at primary school, all we had to do was to go to the office with the filled up exercise book and exchange it for a new one. Sports uniforms were also supplied from this income and, as new buildings were constructed at our school, I suspect the money earned by us was really used for the betterment of the school. The work we had to do at A.R.D.A Mzarabani was exactly the same as we had to do in our own fields; spacing bean and cotton crops on germination, weeding, picking and packing cotton. Things we were already proficient at but, somehow, I did not have the same respect for that work as the respect I had for the work in our own fields. A single occurence is instructive as the point when I finally got fed up with crop farming:
Like Ninjas In The Middle of the Day!
The way we made our way to the A.R.D.A Mzarabani Estate was this; around 1230pm a tractor with a flat-bed trailer would come to our primary school. At 0100pm when we finished classes we would all then stream onto the trailer and be driven down to the farm which was about 5km away. We had done this routine without misshap for about 2 years but there is always a first time for everything. On the particluar day in question, my childhood friend Andrew and I decided we had better things to do than pick someone else's cotton! (Andrew is pictured above, and I wonder how he handles the hot-head kids there who are exactly our carbon copies since he now teaches at our old school).
I don't remember if we specifically discussed our modus operandi for this day but Ninjas everywhere will be proud of the stunt we pulled off. Unfortunately, I only remember it so well because it did not end well for us - the perpetrators. We got onto the flat-bed trailer as if we really meant to go to the farm with everyone but sat at the edges, ready! We allowed the tractor to move to the edges of the football field where there was tree cover blocking the line of sight from the school buildings, then we made our move. Posterity has been denied a front row seat to some of the most foolish escapades for want of a video camera. We leapt from the flat-bed trailer and took cover behind some trees to great shouting and excitement from the other kids left on the trailer. Promptly we dashed through the thickets leaving the school on our right side and Mr Chinyere's fields on our left. This is a part of the bush we could navigate blindfold at midnight - it was our local. We then went to Andrew's family fields, had some watermelons and raw groundnuts before going our separate ways without as much as discussing how this was all going to turn out for us. Kids!
As you no doubt have guessed, all that zig zag running through the bushes with our heads low served no purpose as all the teacher accompanying our group had to do was ask the other kids; "who leapt off the trailer?" Kids that age don't know about subterfuge and the code of silence, so they happily volunteered our names. Assembly the following day was very interesting for everyone - even those at home. For that offence we were taken to the office and beaten thoroughly with a rope by this sadistic teacher - Mr Machado. During our beating, Andrew managed to leap through the window and ran home while I was trapped on the other side.
As soon as Andrew got home, his homestead was closer to the school than mine as well, and showed his grandfather the rope marks from the beating, things heated up sufficiently. You see, when we moved to the Zambezi Valley it was virgin territory and all kinds of wild animals roamed freely in our community: Lions, Leopards, Buffalo, Elephants, Black Mambas etc. For this reason every homestead had a hunting rifle. Every young male had to move around with an axe and a spear just in case you are accosted by any of these wild animals.
Within the hour, Andrew's grandfather - Mr Chabata - was at the school with his hunting rifle to shoot down that sadistic teacher I mentioned above - Machado. For his safety now, Machado locked himself in the same office where he previously had been beating us up. An instant reversal of fortunes? Safe bet! He was there 3 hours later as the headmaster begged and pleaded with Andrew's grandfather to calm down. Because it was such a dramatic occurrence Andrew's grandfather only calmed down when the other elders he respected came to the school.
Promptly, a meeting was held with the elders that convened at the school. These elders were Messrs Chabata, Machakwa, Kanhutu, Makoni, Chinyere, Sithole and Mashingaidze. At this meeting it was pointed out that it was only out of the elders' generosity that they allowed their kids to work for the school. Forthwith we didn't have to work at A.R.D.A at all, and no teacher was authorised to beat up children anymore, they would have to call in the parents if a child misbehaved.
But you would be wrong to think that this was the last beating I got as a child in the Zambezi Valley. The same elders that stopped the teachers from beating us were also quite proficient at beating us up usually when our cattle destroyed crops while we played football. But again, that's a story for another day. My experiences with crop farming as a kid is that it is hard, I did it, still know how to do it but I won't do it!
Having said all this, if I must give you an excuse as to why I will always avoid crop farming, I would say that I did it to my heart's content as a kid so I want to do something else now. That something else is raising beef cattle. I already bought 3 cows 6 years ago from another childhood friend and uncle who owns a plot in Mazoe. What has surprised me about this purchase is that in the 6 years since I bought them, my cows haven't had calves. Everytime I call and ask him about these cows of mine, their number is still 3!
County Durham 2014 Farm Visit Photo Essay:
I will never be a crop farmer, let someone else do it instead. I do not necessarily say those who taught me crop farming as a youngster completely wasted their time but, all the same, hell will have to freeze over first before I become a crop farmer again. And, even then, you will still have to capture me as I make my escape on my souped-up snowmobile. Crop farming is just too much work! Well, at least in my experience as a young boy growing up in deep rural Zambezi Valley.
In this entry of my blog we briefly revisit some of the experiences in my youth that made me decide against crop farming as an occupation. But after government (Yes, you heard right: after government!) in retirement, I wouldn't mind animal husbandry. So I visited a farm in Durham to see, first hand, what goes into such an operation.
 |
| John Mangwanya Kanhutu, (The Elder in a suit) My Grandfather who educated me on the ways of this world before I commenced book learning. |
Agriculture and War
I have already said elsewhere that the essential branches of knowledge for humanity are defence and agriculture while other professions like law and politics are mere adjuncts. That proposition still holds for me;
"Now, if men form parties, the arguments and dissensions in the country will be of confusing diversity; the lower classes will be amused and the great men will enjoy it, with the result that amongst such a people farmers will be few and those who, in idleness, live on others will be many. These latter being numerous, farmers will be in a perilous position, and this being so, land will be left lying fallow. If study becomes popular, people will abandon agriculture and occupy themselves with debates, high-sounding words and discussions on false premises; abandoning agriculture, they will live on others in idleness, and seek to surpass one another with words. Thus the people will become estranged from the ruler, and there will be crowds of disloyal subjects. This is a doctrine which leads to the impoverishment of the state and to the weakening of the army. Indeed, if a country employs people for their talking, then the people will not be nurtured in agriculture; so it is only an intelligent prince who understands that by fondness for words one cannot strengthen the army nor open up the land. Only when a sage rules the country will he strive for singleness of purpose and for the consolidation of the people in agriculture, and for that alone" - The Book of Lord Shang, Chapter 3 Agriculture and War.
So, before I go on to educate you on how I came to hate..., I mean dislike crop farming, let me assure you that I have done it and if the prince of the day ever required me to do it - as a national security concern - I would easily manage it again. But I have taken steps to make sure I will not be the obvious choice to be called back to it. How you ask? I will tell you how;
 |
| When I decided to return to University education my first firm offer for study was at Royal Agricultural College, Cirencester. |
My return to education should also not be confused with the love of knowledge for its sake that afflicts so many academics. My return is instrumental - as evinced by my manifest inability to analyse inessential theories to the death. I just needed a higher level of critical thought training so as to be able to communicate and execute my ideas better, but that's a story for another day... I paid the Royal Agricultural College a courtesy visit but I had already made up my mind to study statecraft at its highest level in Kent.
 |
| My Alfa Romeo parked outside the Royal Agricultural College, Cirencester |
Thus I chose, in a heartbeat, to engage with strategic studies. Such study can be said to stand slightly above agriculture in that it is the study of how to employ all the material and ideational resources at the country's disposal so as to strengthen one's own side in the contention of the nations.
"A sage, therefore, in organizing a country causes the people in home affairs to adhere to agriculture, and in foreign affairs to scheme for war. Now, agriculture makes the people suffer hardships, and war makes them run dangers, and the means whereby they can be led to encounter hardships and to perform actions that expose them to danger, is calculation.... If enemies are conquered and at the same time fields do not lie fallow, then without moving, the result will be obtained of having both wealth and strength" - The Book of Lord Shang, Chapter 2, The Calculation of Land.
Therefore I decided to stand above these two essential fields but with an inclination towards the profession of arms so that my prince, if he is sagacious, can only call on me for war rather than agriculture.
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| My Jaguar X Type parked outside the School of Government and International Affairs Building at Durham University circa October 2013 |
Agriculture Is Hard
Or to be precise, the way I did it in my youth was hard...
 |
| My childhood friend Andrew's cow - Doctor - pulling a cultivator through the cotton crop typical of our farming method as youngsters in the Zambezi Valley. |
During the holidays we worked in our fields everyday as soon as it became light enough to see at the crack of dawn until it became too hot, then we would return to the fields again in the evening till it became too dark to see. On school days my grandfather made my brother Douglas and I - as the older boys at home - go to the fields before we went to school so as to ensure the crops would not fail (and our school grades had to be high too - and they were high!). The early morning work was usually weeding a particularly bad patch of the field followed by a dash to school before the first bell.
We also had to sometimes sleep in the field hut to scare away elephants and wild pigs so that they would not destroy our crops when it was near harvest time. This involved lighting fires and making an almighty racket with metals cans, drums and what have you. I don't remember that being succesful though. But while this work was hard, I was quite amenable to it because it was ours, our grandfather found this place for us, we cleared the virgin land to farm it ourselves, we would not ask for permission from anyone to eat any of the food we produced and (now) no force on earth can take this land from our family.
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| Watermelon - Typical produce from our fields in the Zambezi Valley, these organic products that are sold for shocking amounts in the UK we would just walk into any of our relatives' fields and eat without asking anyone for permission. |
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| A.R.D.A Mzarabani Estate viewed from the lower reaches of the Mavhuradonha Mountain in Northern Zimbabwe |
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| My friend Andrew at our old Primary School where he teaches while currently completing his BA Degree |
The way we made our way to the A.R.D.A Mzarabani Estate was this; around 1230pm a tractor with a flat-bed trailer would come to our primary school. At 0100pm when we finished classes we would all then stream onto the trailer and be driven down to the farm which was about 5km away. We had done this routine without misshap for about 2 years but there is always a first time for everything. On the particluar day in question, my childhood friend Andrew and I decided we had better things to do than pick someone else's cotton! (Andrew is pictured above, and I wonder how he handles the hot-head kids there who are exactly our carbon copies since he now teaches at our old school).
I don't remember if we specifically discussed our modus operandi for this day but Ninjas everywhere will be proud of the stunt we pulled off. Unfortunately, I only remember it so well because it did not end well for us - the perpetrators. We got onto the flat-bed trailer as if we really meant to go to the farm with everyone but sat at the edges, ready! We allowed the tractor to move to the edges of the football field where there was tree cover blocking the line of sight from the school buildings, then we made our move. Posterity has been denied a front row seat to some of the most foolish escapades for want of a video camera. We leapt from the flat-bed trailer and took cover behind some trees to great shouting and excitement from the other kids left on the trailer. Promptly we dashed through the thickets leaving the school on our right side and Mr Chinyere's fields on our left. This is a part of the bush we could navigate blindfold at midnight - it was our local. We then went to Andrew's family fields, had some watermelons and raw groundnuts before going our separate ways without as much as discussing how this was all going to turn out for us. Kids!
 |
| The Mighty Mavhuradonha Mountain viewed from near the point we made our daring escape from a school work day |
As you no doubt have guessed, all that zig zag running through the bushes with our heads low served no purpose as all the teacher accompanying our group had to do was ask the other kids; "who leapt off the trailer?" Kids that age don't know about subterfuge and the code of silence, so they happily volunteered our names. Assembly the following day was very interesting for everyone - even those at home. For that offence we were taken to the office and beaten thoroughly with a rope by this sadistic teacher - Mr Machado. During our beating, Andrew managed to leap through the window and ran home while I was trapped on the other side.
As soon as Andrew got home, his homestead was closer to the school than mine as well, and showed his grandfather the rope marks from the beating, things heated up sufficiently. You see, when we moved to the Zambezi Valley it was virgin territory and all kinds of wild animals roamed freely in our community: Lions, Leopards, Buffalo, Elephants, Black Mambas etc. For this reason every homestead had a hunting rifle. Every young male had to move around with an axe and a spear just in case you are accosted by any of these wild animals.
Within the hour, Andrew's grandfather - Mr Chabata - was at the school with his hunting rifle to shoot down that sadistic teacher I mentioned above - Machado. For his safety now, Machado locked himself in the same office where he previously had been beating us up. An instant reversal of fortunes? Safe bet! He was there 3 hours later as the headmaster begged and pleaded with Andrew's grandfather to calm down. Because it was such a dramatic occurrence Andrew's grandfather only calmed down when the other elders he respected came to the school.
Promptly, a meeting was held with the elders that convened at the school. These elders were Messrs Chabata, Machakwa, Kanhutu, Makoni, Chinyere, Sithole and Mashingaidze. At this meeting it was pointed out that it was only out of the elders' generosity that they allowed their kids to work for the school. Forthwith we didn't have to work at A.R.D.A at all, and no teacher was authorised to beat up children anymore, they would have to call in the parents if a child misbehaved.
But you would be wrong to think that this was the last beating I got as a child in the Zambezi Valley. The same elders that stopped the teachers from beating us were also quite proficient at beating us up usually when our cattle destroyed crops while we played football. But again, that's a story for another day. My experiences with crop farming as a kid is that it is hard, I did it, still know how to do it but I won't do it!
Having said all this, if I must give you an excuse as to why I will always avoid crop farming, I would say that I did it to my heart's content as a kid so I want to do something else now. That something else is raising beef cattle. I already bought 3 cows 6 years ago from another childhood friend and uncle who owns a plot in Mazoe. What has surprised me about this purchase is that in the 6 years since I bought them, my cows haven't had calves. Everytime I call and ask him about these cows of mine, their number is still 3!
County Durham 2014 Farm Visit Photo Essay:
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| My Jaguar X Type in the Durham countryside |
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| Wind turbines on a farm in Durham |
