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INDEX
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Malawi Moneysweet and Me: Part 6
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"The roads in Zambia are not so bad, you only have to be careful with the pieces of tarmac in between." -- Famous African Philosopher
Incidentally, this same person should warn you about Fancidar, the anti malarial drug. He took it, and turned crimson. That was too bad, because after bribing his way into Mozambique, he had trouble getting his boots off, with the swelling. Let all toe
loving people around the world unite, and kill a Mosquito tonight- to make this planet a better place for all. We have much to avenge friends, Mosquito wise. Think globally, squat locally, loyally.
There are some border posts in Mozambique where they don't have a stamp, really. They just sign. Because of the poverty alleviation program, this is mostly done on a border pass. The border pass you get 150 km away, at the closest other border, in a more
developed country. Although they have potholes, they have only one border pass copy. So you have to go to the Ministry of Education first, who has a manual copying press. This costs money. With the forms, you succeed in rising to the station of a border
pass possessing person. No photo, only a name and number of days. After having bought paper and ink, and having supported poverty alleviation, nobody asks too carefully whether that happens to be Your name on the paper. Even at the stampless poverty
alleviation border post many miles away.
All the Mosquito squatting people that have seen the common thread, can not let drop their hands and put away their wallets. Regardless of potholes, roads, medicine or paper, the officials of Africa stand united in poverty alleviation. And you can call me
Samuel Tembo too, in Mozambique. One day, Samuel Tembo was standing at a Mozambiquen border post, looking at a Ox-cart come by. The dirt road from the nearest potholed road gave food for thought, but that ox-cart gave much more. It had wooden wheels you
see, roundish tree trunks with a hole in the middle. And that was the traffic, at the border.
For some reason the road is always better at a border. Except if there had been tarmac before, then it is the other way around. The best tarmac in Mozambique is in the remotest area with no vehicles. {Renamo built houses on the road, for 25 years}. And
the best dirt road at the border, getting worse the farther you go. Less villages you see, less people and travel to that other country that we will Zambia for the time being. Only shops around I'm afraid, north of Cahorra Bassa, is in that other country
we are calling Zambia. So the dirt road with the shoppers is best closer to the border. Pretty much like a river feeding system, the further upstream the smaller the rivulets.
Men of the cloth and civlised people like yourself should never remain too close to a Landrover. A Landrover sometimes invites foul language I'm afraid. After passing the village that had been Renamo headquarters, Samuel and company build up Brownie
points with the Landrover. Pushing, for a change. The road was getting to be close to that stage where it is simply referred to as that coming out behind the vehicle. Mostly anyway.
Foul foul terrible language broke forth from my lips when I saw that some illegal miners had followed a vein right across the road. That is the trouble in Mozambique, the illegal miners have no respect for a road. Especially in a Renamo area with no
villages and some Gemstones. You should hear a dusty Samuel Tembo say that in a slightly more colourful way, hacking through the bush. Or rather not.
Whilst typing this, I'm chewing a Leopard match. It says so right on the box. Now there are plenty of things reminding of Leopard matches in that part of Tete, Mozambique, and it isn't the wooden trees I'm afraid. Coming to think of it, I haven't ever
seen any Black Mamba matches, but that would have been remindingfull of that area too. Especially so if the matches could be two meters long and sail right across your road building site. A man wouldn't forget a match like that easily I think. No.
When 5 o'clock came, it found Samuel Tembo and Moneyweet Somebody throwing rocks in a tree on a hilly outcrop. There was flex wire attached to the rock, and I'm proud to say that I threw the antenna into position eventually. Moneysweet brought the battery
and radio, and the antenna tuner started whirling twirling around 6455 MHz. Now a man appreciates a radio much more if there is just bush as far as he can see, in every direction. I couldn't raise my one gemcutter in Malawi though, the propagation was up
to no good, uhm. It sounded like a wounded bagpipe whistling on the radio.
It is about then that we found out about the cave in that hilly outcrop, on the other side. Of course we only found the entrance because there had been a big Leopard paw imprint in the mud right in front of it. If Samuel Tembo hadn't looked up slowly from
that imprint in the mud, he would have seen the entrance hidden away behind some shrubs. No, carrying that radio he wouldn't have. As it happened he looked up very slowly and couldn't miss it.
A very popular American Philosopher had once suggested that shit happens. Samuel Tembo carrying that radio agreed only with half of that philosophy. Now dear friends, you will have to guess for yourselves which half he could identify with. You know typing
this, this match I'm chewing seems to have lost all flavour. It must be the brand.
The Mosquitoes in Mozambique are very big. Nearly a foot long, and ferocious. No, not really, but we made a big fire anyway. A fire is a handy thing, it makes water boil and even allows a man to see things in a whole different light.
You know, the American stockmarket makes me worry, even if I don't own a single share. I do own a few Emeralds I'm proud to say, but I guess that is not the same. In other parts of the world people worry about the stockmarket a lot. Here in Africa, we
have Leopard matches and plenty of wood. But gemstones is like panning for gold sometimes. It really brings the innermost of man to the fore. Things have just to happen in the right way with the right ingredients, then you will see.
Now I'm not so keen on Donkeys, and Leopards and Africans of Asian origin. Now just because I'm a Boer and Afrikaner and white South African doesn't mean that I'm prejudiced. Give to all their due, I say. With Leopards in particular I have summed up my
convictions relating to their dues. Really. But West Africans, Senegalese and Nigerians especially, are another breed entirely. They are in the same category as a Muslim Indian garage owner to whom an American Missionary once went for a small tune up. I
may not know so much about the American stockmarket, but let me tell you that I have chewed on a few boxes of matches in my time. That had been one hell of an overhaul, yes. Never buy spare parts or even matches from a Indian mechanic in Africa. Not that
I'm against Muslims. But if you do come to Africa, and buy a box, count the matches. You'll see things in a different light.
In other parts of the world, it is called a boiler room situation. Here in Africa, it makes me suspect West Africans. But give to all their due I say. What happened is that you had a group of West Africans building up for a certain Gemstone. They would
arrive in an area like the Copperbelt, hungry for Emeralds. So they got Emeralds. Now what the local people didn't realise is that they arrived with a whole lot of emeralds in the first place. But they would start buying--and I mean seriously buying. All
manner of beryl, green nonsense that you won't believe. Dollars American they paid, hard real non fake bills too. I don't trust a Nigerian who does that. But give all their due I say.
So the word would spread about the fabulous "Buyers" who were in town. People would rush from all over, take out their hoarded treasures and sell. They would make a killing, and the West Africans would just keep on buying madly. Local African Emerald
prices here in Zambia would soon make Sotheby's and that other First World place look mild. But give all their due I say.
And what would happen is that so many people would make fortunes overnight, that there would be a real drive towards acquiring more product to sell. Very soon the available Emeralds would be depleted though. Emeralds are like that, really. And then
suddenly there would be a new deposit discovered somewhere, selling cheap in a rural area. Of course cheap by this time is horrendously expensive, with Colombian prices child's play. People would pour money and fortunes and stolen IMF funds and unilateral
aid and bilateral aid and what else into this new Emerald material. The West Africans would cry for more and more, having set up offices by now with long queues in front. Of course the new find's Emeralds are not so new after all. But ignorant and lay
people and non faceters are not bound to recognize an emerald the second time around, are they. They are only buying and selling, all propped up by this sucker seeks sucker syndrome. That is why I worry about the American stockmarket,!
not even owning a single share. I heard there are plenty of West Africans in New York. But give all their due I say, and let one sucker find another sucker to sell to. Sooner or later you will run out of suckers, and THAT is what I'm really worrying
about. West Africans are really depleting the world's resources of suckers.
After having fed the Emeralds they came with, as well as the Emeralds they bought, into this greedy Emerald gobbling beast, they leave. With suitcases full of money. Actually I'm not so sure about the suitcases, because it normally happens in the middle
of the night. And people are in such a greedy frenzy they don't realise what is going on untill a few days afterwards. You know, chewing matches and seeing a whole province being rid of all its suckers in a single week, can make one see West Africans in a
whole new light. Well not really, because West Africans turn to be rather out of the light by then. Not that I have anything against West Africans, really, or suckers. Give all their due I say, and the emeralds to me.
Now this system and scam has worked in a few mineral spots and regions in Africa. Sometimes even with fools gold. Emeralds are hard to find in the first place, and not so easy to bring from other places. And when the time of the great Zambian Emerald
disaster came, the West Africans were ready. They were actually invited by a local Zambian crime Lord. He employed them, at a commission of course. And he didn't like me. Seems gemcutters and people with integrity are not always well liked in shady
gemstone circles. We are too opinionated. So he tried to move me out of his region in preparation of this scam.
Which is really too bad, considering what happened.
Robert Mugabe is not a friendly man. He is a jealous president, visiting the iniquities upon the third and fourth generation of those who displease him. It displeases him that other people like Zimbabwean Emeralds too. Uhm, my right eye just scanned right
of the computer screen for a moment. There is a Agio-Duizel-Holland Cigarillos cigar box resting there. There is even a label on, but it says Emeralds & Beryl, Rhodesia. It was a gift, Mr. President.
In South Africa you can get the death penalty for liking emeralds more than the president. Mind you, you can even get the death penalty if you shoot the president. Give all their due I say, if you understand what I mean. There was a certain man who
agreed, and quite innocently Samuel Tembo got involved in the African Emerald business. The descendant of the Coach Robbers' servant became a trusted supplier. The network is still open, and he still busy, so we leave it at that.
A stone might be mined in locality A, and then suddenly appear two thousand Kilometers South, or North, for that matter. A good African gemcutter gets to know the individual mines and material later on. There are certain individual characteristics you
cant miss, whether it be Aqua marine from Mozambique or Blue Tourmaline from Zambia. Sapphires from Tanzania and Mbeya is just the same. People not traveling much, and not keenly interested in mining, might not realise that lying about a gemstone's origin
is not prudent. It reveals much.
Asking about a material's origin is not so prudent either. Let me be honest. It is like Canadian Salmon swimming upriver. The female fights her way up the rapids, untill she comes to the spot where to lay her eggs. But the males die on the way, after
fertilization, not so? That is why I wisened up and became much more diligent in my gem locality identification. A man only has to go on a few wild goose chases, fight a few rapids, nearly make like a male salmon after fertilization a few times... You get
to recognise a mine's material forevermore if you had to swim through all this to find it. It happens.
Here in Africa, the gemstone business is not always so much about how much, but much more about From Where. And sometimes you don't want to know. My friend Jan van Staal, the big game hunter, has secret pockets of game. Places only he knows about. Trophy
animals he secretly guards. It takes years to get to know what you know. The best deposits are mostly illegal and secret. A successfull hunter and miner are sometimes good trackers both. We'll come to that.
A man with the name that translates as Bushbuck once invited Samuel Tembo to a Blue Beryl deposit in the Kruger National Park. Very dark double blue he said. He was called Bushbuck because he makes like a bushbuck, simply disappearing in the bush. Samuel
Tembo was right and ready to go. It was only afterwards that he mentioned that we have to be carefull. Plenty of Lions roaring at night, were his words. Now dear friends, here in Africa, there is a lot of mining on rainy nights.
Some time after that Samuel went back to Central East Africa, Nyasaland. He had some emeralds incidentally, from down south and not so very down south. That is when the trouble with the Zambia Hyena gang began. Some African currencies and notes are only
good for lighting fires with. If they had not been so dirty, we would have used them for other hygienic purposes. Few things as satisfying as dragging the face of Mr. President across your bum. Maybe that is why voting percentages are a bit low.
Bicycles and blankets are hard currency in Africa, gemstones too. You don't take loads and loads of money when buying Gemstones at a mine. You take transistor radios and soap and shirts and you swop. You can only light so many fires with money, and the
president can kiss your ass only so many times. Soap and a blanket is much much better. Truly.
For a Zambian a soccer ball and an emerald are magical things. Truly. The crazy prizes they charge once led me to try and swop a few low grade Emeralds for other gem materials. It worked like a dream, --
Editor's Note:
The transmission cut off here because of power failures from torrential rains. We will pick up the story next month. Ironic, isn't it? The Lake levels were so low earlier in the year that power failures were occurring because there wasn't enough water to
generate hydroelectric power.
Interesting links for more information and "slightly" conflicting viewpoints on Robert Mugabe can be found by asking for "Mugabe" on the search engines. Here are three examples:
Use your "Back" button to return here.
I feel secure in offering you the following traditional signoff from our colleague in Africa.
African Blessings,
Justice Malanot
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Copyright, 1997 by Justice Malanot
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