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William and me - musical adventures in Africa.

Foreword and Chapter 1

By John VallisPublished 3 years ago 27 min read
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Foreword

Malawi is a tiny land in South Central Africa, a locked country wedged between Zambia, Tanzania, and Mozambique. Its residents are 98% subsistence farmers, and it has no natural resources except fertile farmland where tobacco, tea, coffee, maize can be grown, and trees (Mango, Avocado, Baobab, Acacia and Neem). Tobacco is the main cash crop and accounts for the largest income in exports in Malawi. With a global decline in tobacco use, more and more families find themselves without a market for their crops.

It is the third poorest country globally, by Gross Domestic Product per capita (2019), after Burundi and The Central African Republic. Recent climatic shocks (extreme flooding and drought) due to global warming and climate change have brought the economy to its knees in the latter half of the last decade. Unpredictable and extreme weather led to failed harvests and rampant deforestation to feed the people's need for charcoal as a cooking and heating fuel has caused much of the once fertile topsoil to be blown away by the wind or washed away in the increased intensity floods. Harvests are lower, and two-thirds of the population of 19 million is now in extreme poverty and are hungry or starving to death. This, coupled with rampant corruption by successive Governments (including the current one who has only recently been voted in), means that It is virtually impossible for the ordinary person living there to make a living. It was the driving force for my campaign over the last ten years to help my friend William and his family achieve the most basic needs of food, clothes, shelter and education.

The Covid-19 pandemic of 2020 has made everything a lot worse for the people of Malawi. Most urban dwellers hustle to live through each day or are street and market traders. What they make that day in cash is what they eat in the evening. They could not afford to stay at home in quarantine, so they rose against the Government imposed lockdowns and were the only country in the world to successfully reverse Government policy on this matter. The Government cannot cushion its citizens with monetary support during this crisis, which has led to tensions and violence in this once very peaceful country. The street traders know that they will die of hunger at home during a lockdown. Starvation is 100% fatal, whereas Covid is less than 1% fatal among its young demographic. They burnt tires and cars around the main markets and succeeded in getting the Government back down on the issue.

Born in Malawi but raised and living in Zimbabwe. William had to escape the worsening political violence in Zimbabwe and take his family to a safe haven, in 2005 (Malawi). He then travelled to the UK in search of work so that he could send money back to them,

From early 2000, many people within and beyond Zimbabwe's borders got displaced by a contracting economy and political violence. The state intrusion of Zimbabwe's urban and rural economies through politics and rampant hyperinflation were among the country's woes. It saw a disintegration of public services, and the destruction of assets had further effects. Zimbabwe's crisis was no longer just domestic but was now a political issue for the ruling party leaders. This saw many Zimbabwe citizens move to neighboring states, searching for better economies beyond Zimbabwe's borders, seeking protection from state violence, and finding a new livelihood for their families.

William went back to re-join his wife and family in 2014. He had sold all his possessions before sending his wife and children to live in Blantyre, Malawi, with relatives. Nine years was a long time to be away and he had no idea what awaited him back home.

The projects that I put in place since 2010 shield the family from the grinding poverty. I've no idea what might have happened to them otherwise. This is our story:

Chapter 1 - Larmer Tree 2008

Larmer Tree Festival is the event of the year for me. An excellent opportunity to meet friends, hang out listening to good music, eat delicious food from all over the world and drink great cider and beers. In England, at the Larmer Tree Gardens, held at Tollard Royal in the Cranborne Chase on the Wiltshire / Dorset border. An area of outstanding natural beauty between Salisbury and Blandford Forum. Stonehenge, Glastonbury, Earthwise, Endorse-it-in-Dorset and many other festivals been held in this small but historically packed area of England, where the affluent and busy South East changes to a lush green land of fields, hedgerows and woodland, undulating low hills and plains with long barrows (Neolithic burial mounds), barrows (bronze age burial mounds), standing stones, thatched cottages and Inns, ancient oak trees and farmland. My family history has been traced back to nearby Shrewton, a small village where the local Parish churchyard has many Vallis graves. An unusual name with only two or three in any phone directory. There is even a grave for John Vallis, who lived in the late 18h / early 19th century and was an agricultural laborer, pre-mechanization. He would have scythed the wheat at harvest time on the Salisbury Plain's open fields, baled the straw by hand for thatching. No doubt swilled the local scrumpy, a cloudy cider of unknown strength that this corner of England is famous for, made from the plentiful apples from the many orchards in the area. England has over 3000 varieties of apples, some sweet, some only good for cooking and some perfect for making scrumpy. It has always been perturbing that the UK supermarkets import apples from South Africa and New Zealand, on the other side of the world. Yet there's a huge carbon footprint that entails when we have so many varieties growing and mostly going to waste in the gardens and lanes of our own country.

This area is also said to have many "ley lines" crisscrossing this area between areas of ancient significance (see glossary at the end) and I can feel the earth's energy and ancient vibrations when I go there. This area has a unique atmosphere and feels, unlike anywhere I have ever been to on this planet. Maybe because I am connected to this land through ancestors who lived here for many hundreds of years, or perhaps because it is here that the earth's energy and the connection with our ancient past are at their strongest.

Larmer Tree Festival and the more Indie band based “End of the road Festival” are held at the Larmer Tree House estate in July and September. A stately home and gardens in Cranborne Chase, an area of natural beauty that overlaps the English counties of Wiltshire, Dorset, Hampshire and Somerset. It has ancient woodlands, chalk escarpments, downland and chalk river valleys. The gardens were created by the distinguished archaeologist General Pitt-Rivers in 1880 and are an extraordinary example of Victorian extravagance and vision. Designed to be a pleasure ground for "public enlightenment and entertainment," they were the first privately owned park in England to be opened to the public. The gardens hold a unique collection of ornate buildings, a water garden, landscaped open meadowlands and manicured lawns. Majestic trees were planted and they create intimate arbors of secrecy and surprise with hidden paths, dark forest corners and openings. These all come to life during the festival when the trees in the woodland area hung with home-made lanterns, fairy lights, musical instruments, and a diverse variety of weird and wonderful ornamentation. Open lawns would have provided areas for reception drinks, entertaining guests and playing croquet with the folly buildings such as The Singing Theatre and The Roman Temple adding atmosphere, interest and beauty. During the festivals, they are areas to picnic between bands and sit or stand to watch the shows on the main stage and the ornate garden stage to the side with its semi-circular construction and Italianate Renaissance Fresco. Peacocks and Macaws roam and fly freely in the gardens, with the Peacocks choosing the main lawn with its ornate follies as their territory.

This area has the largest number of prehistoric and bronze age tumuli in England. The granddaddy of them all and supposedly the center of all earth energies and lay line (definitely the center of the Neolithic culture in England) is Stonehenge. Only 26 miles from Larmer Tree House, the direct route passes through Shrewton, my ancestors' village on my father's side. They left the land at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution in England when farms were becoming mechanized and the thousands of farm laborers like my forefathers were no longer required. This mechanization and consequential job losses and pay cuts led to the Swing Rebellion of 1830, which swept through southern England east to west, from Kent, where it started, to Wiltshire and Dorset gained great momentum and energy. Incidents in Puddletown in Dorset involved farmworkers who were later to join the Tolpuddle Union. During the Swing Rebellion, there were attacks by farmworkers on their employers and farm equipment. Some employers raised pay (or did not cut it) for fear of attack. Other attacks were headed off with one-off payments of beer. However, soon, fear of attack turned to determination to crush the rebels and special Constables and Militia were recruited to suppress the uprising. The farm laborers were no match for the armed soldiers and the ring leaders were soon arrested. Special courts dealt with the hundreds of men who got arrested. Some were sentenced to hang at the gallows. Still, most avoided execution by being transported to Australia instead: A favoured punishment for violent and petty thief criminals in England at the time.

My ancestors were forced to leave the farms on the Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire and follow the industrial revolution north to the fast-growing cities and towns in the Midlands and the North with their textile mills and coal mines.

Larmer Tree Festival runs for four days every year (except 2020 because of the Covid-19 pandemic and whenever the organizers want to take a year off) with comedy, performing arts and music. From quirky amateur performances on the smaller stages and in the outdoor performance zones to big-name bands and comedians on the main stage (with full light and audiovisual displays) and equally professional bands in the big top and Village Inn (beer tent) through the afternoon and evening. Not just local and national talent but international artists as well. Big names such as The Stranglers, Tom Jones, Paloma Faith, Gomez, Kate Tempest and Bill Bailey have done sets here along with local and international talent that has not yet made the big time and fringe theatre. For me, the discovery of unknown acts is the best part of the festival. It is here that I experienced The Antipoets (two English goth guys dressed in black leather, tattoos and black nail varnish who are masters of beatrantin' rhythm and views). The Dukebox (3 guys with acoustic guitars crammed into a tiny caravan with an old 1950s jukebox stuck on the front) still stocked the sit stock until someone presses the name of a record, and then they burst into life and sing it). Simon Panrucker's keep fit Fandango (Bristol's bassiest exercise group, "here to help you lose troubles, your marbles and your calories in a riot of dance, color and electronic beats"). I am proud to say that the musical collective that I have been in since 2008, the Southampton Ukulele Jam, has played this festival three times and is a crowd favourite. In a small crack team of 30, we roam around the festival armed with loaded ukuleles, ready to burst into a pop hit like Lady Gaga's Poker Face, The Killers "Mr. Brightside," or the Vaccines "If You Wanna." We also play prearranged shows in the main arena's performance areas and in The Lost Woods. We invite the audience to sing along, ending with everyone physically jumping up and down. Rendition of The Clash's Should I Stay or Should I go (the answer is always "Go, Southampton Ukulele Jam, Go…" or at the campfire session in the woods, a tear-jerking and poignant version of Elbow's One Day Like. This, where the audience of over a hundred people packed into this small space sing their hearts out, making the hairs on the back of everyone's neck tingle.

I am proud to say that I was selected to play Larmer Tree Festival three times with SUJ as performance artists and on the garden stage (a beautiful folly with an Italianate mural on the semi-circular wooden stage that can only hold a maximum of 30 people. SUJ play for charity only and any fee goes to The Society of St James - homeless charities in Southampton. At this festival, we had the added advantage of each of us getting Artists tickets and between our nine timetabled shows and walkarounds, we were able to enjoy the other bands, comedy, food and drink.

The festival is limited to 5000 people per day so that it does not feel too crowded. It is against this backdrop of music, arts, comedy, international cuisine, secret gardens, croquet lawns, English Victorian eccentricity, and I met William. It was July 2008, and he was playing with a Zimbabwean band called Chimanimani, named after a range of sacred hills in the Zimbabwean Shona culture. They were part of International talent showcasing their talent that year, but the only African band in the whole weekend. I remember it like it was yesterday. They played in the Big Top tent early on Friday evening, just after we had pitched up and wandered into the festival grounds to grab a pint of Cranborne Chase cider and a Vegetarian Thali from one of the Indian food stalls.

The band blew me away with their incredibly danceable rhythms, chiming melodic guitar work and pumping bass. I danced like no-one was watching for an hour and did not want it to end. After the show, I approached the band to know more about them and welcomed a big smile from the lead guitarist. An older guy with a greying short afro and a statesmanlike white short goatee beard, we hit it off instantly and started to chat about the style (Sunguru), the chords and riffs that he used (I am a guitarist of many years), and any future shows that were planned that year. It was a fateful meeting and the start of a life-long friendship.

After talking shop about music, I found out quite a bit about the man. For starters, his life was in a sorry state that belied his smile and charisma, with no job to sustain him except the occasional £20 or £30 from these live shows. He lived in Rotherham, which is over 200 miles away from Larmer Tree, in a small, rented room that he was now unable to pay for. He had a large family back home in Malawi but could not send the cash needed to pay for their rent arrears, bills, school and college fees, and food. They were all starving and just about to be thrown out onto the street. Hearing him speak about his woes struck a chord, and I realized I could not let him out of my mind. How had he landed in England? I was curious to know. He had no qualms explaining to me.

In 2005, the man arrived in Heathrow on a one-way ticket with no entry visa and a Zimbabwean passport. To this day, I have got no idea how he got through immigration (I think that he mentioned something about being a musician with a church). Clutching a holdall and a hard case containing his beloved Gibson Les Paul electric guitar, there was an arrangement, made hastily by a friend before he left for the Harare International Airport, for someone to meet him at Heathrow Terminal 2 and take him to the Zimbabwean community in Luton. No-one showed up and he slept rough outside the airport that day with no money and no plans except to find a job and send money back to his family. Not a nice welcome to a cold, wet, and grey England in winter.

At that point, listening to his story, I could not help but wonder how he pulled through after that. Imagine landing on foreign ground and with no one to hold your hand, to welcome you. William let off a sad smile when I inquired about it, then went ahead to explain. ``I found my way to Luton somehow.” “I got a job in a music shop with a Pakistani guy who made me drive 12 hours a day collecting and delivering equipment” “He paid me £3 an hour” Not enough to even rent a decent room despite the long and illegal hours. He was being exploited and poorly paid. In Luton, he mixed with the other Zimbabwean political and economic exiles in a similar state. After a while, he started to go to live music shows, which were typically held in Gospel Churches and Community Centres. He met Tomson Chaulke and Shadrick Mugede, Zimbabwean Musicians from Reading who had been in the UK for four years (arriving in 2001). Stimulated by the music and like-minded company, he teamed up with them. After he had shown his lead guitar skills, he did many gigs with them, which supplemented his meagre wages and allowed him to live (although frugally in a rented single room in a rat-infested house) and send a little money back to his family. He was then offered a job in Rotherham, don't ask me how or why; he had no visa, no National Insurance Number, and a Zimbabwean driving license. He told me that the job in Rotherham turned out to be another £3 an hour van driving job, which ended when the work dried up (the owner fled when the HMRC and Immigration started looking into his affairs). He told me that he was stuck in his room again, "sleeping all of the day," "overthinking." But this time 200 miles away from his bandmates in Reading, who he continued to gig with when they bought him a National Express coach ticket.

The man's story touched me and my determination to survive. The fact that he had managed to find footing in a foreign land even connect with the band was commendable. After the show at Larmer Tree Festival, I decided to book the band for a fundraising gig in a barn near my house. We arranged it for September 2008, two months after the Larmer Tree Festival. At the time, I lived in the small village of Compton, near Winchester. An affluent rural Hampshire. My house was at the end of the village at the beginning of the farm track that led up to Attwoods Drove Farm, a dairy farm at the top of the hill, where I asked the farmers, who were friends of ours, to use the big cow shed for a Party. The cows were out in the fields still, so they were not using the barn, so being good people, they said, "yes, but only if we can come."

In the top field of Attwoods Drove Farm, there is a prehistoric Tumulus thought to be a burial mound, which Keith (the farmer) had to plough around carefully. From this Tumulus, there is a direct view to St Catherine's Hill in St Cross, Winchester, where there was an Iron Age hill fort. There is a ley line (if you believe in such things) between St Catherine's hill and the Tumulus just behind the barn where we held the gig, adding to the timeless atmosphere and positive, mystical energy of the location and the evening. The gig was a roaring success; for some unknown reason, the villagers and people from neighbouring villages were up for it. I had emailed and phoned all my friends and acquaintances and put it out as an event on Facebook, which I had just joined and was new and unfamiliar to me. Altogether, the direct reach was about 250 people. (This sounds lame in these days of 3000+ "friends" on Facebook). But most people turned up (well, a third of them plus a few of their friends). We charged £10 a ticket, and for that, you got the live band and a ploughman's lunch (even though it was the evening) of cheddar cheese, bread rolls, and pickle. It was a bring your own drinks party and most of the village was there. Some were tottering up the quarter-mile gravel farm track in high heels and party dress (and that was just the guys!)—a roaring success. The band played their heart out, and we raised enough money.

After the food, the barn's rental and the £500 band fee, I gave William well over £1000 to send back home. He cried." I have never cried since I have come to the UK," he said, "never touched alcohol and never felt this emotional." It was my pleasure to be able to offer this substantial helping hand.

The second booking was a pre-Christmas gig in the back room of a pub in my hometown of Winchester, England. The famous Railway Inn, where Oliver Gray was putting on Americana bands selected from his annual visit to the South by Southwest festival in Austin, Texas. At the time, these shows were under the name SXSC (South by South Central). Still, as his name as a promotor got out there and reached the ears of the lawyers for the organisers of his beloved South by South West Festival (after which it was named), there was a threat of a lawsuit and Oliver changed it to SC4M (south-central for music). That is all recorded in his highly recommended book Banjo on my knee and is another story entirely.

The Railway gig was not a success. I lost money on it, even though I had procured the 100-capacity backroom hire for £140, including wizard soundman and barman. Only 25 people turned up and I had pitched the entry price to £5 a ticket. The band still needed paying and as they had come from Reading, Bristol, Plymouth and Rotherham, there were substantial fuel costs and transport costs. Why so few people? I still do not know. Maybe it was too far removed from the Americana/Alt-Country bands that the older crowd went to see, and the club nights and techno bands favoured by the younger crowd. Maybe it was too close to Christmas, and people were saving themselves for the booze fest. Perhaps it had already started, and people were on early work. Christmas meals that stretched into the evening, or maybe it was the final of the "X-Factor" or "Britain's got Talent" on TV. It was a Saturday night, so the latter two are most probable. My bad for never following these TV shows. The music was great, and they played their hearts out and those lucky souls who were there danced their hearts out in the low, dark, three-quarters empty room.

All through this time, I was curious to find out what made him come to the UK and on that cold night when his prearranged meet did not show. After the Railway gig, I ask him as the band were packing the drum kit and instruments into the old Transit van they used for gigs. What followed was a recount of the most painful I had ever heard: His home country Zimbabwe was a violence zone back in 2005. Under Dictator Robert Mugabe's reign, it was war for anyone who did not support the ruling party Zanu PF. They were drumming up for support in the upcoming elections and could not stand any opposition. A famous saying to explain the situation back then; ``If you vote for MDC in the presidential runoff election, you have seen the bullets, we have enough for each of you so beware”: Soldiers addressing villagers at meetings in Karoi Mashonaland West. That was only a small taste of how things were back in his homeland at that time (and still are).

In the run-up to the 2005 elections, the Zanu PF thugs were on the lose all over in Zimbabwe, but particularly in Harare, where William lived with his large family. William and his family became victims as they did not support the party. The Zanu PF made his teenage boys go on rallies and stand in a field with no food or water for hours, under the scorching sun. One day they could take no more and said that they would not go on another rally. The thugs threatened to take them by force if they did not join them, but still, they refused. This was the time when things got ugly: MDC and any non-Zanu PF loyal households were being burned down, and the firebombing and beatings were moving ever closer to William's street. During the night before the thugs said they would come back and take the boys, William has no choice but to pack everything they could into his pickup truck, take his family, and flee from his home in middle-class Harare. They left at 1 am, leaving it like the Marie Celeste, with half-finished plates of food still on the table and bedsheets thrown back for the midnight escape and everything left behind except for the few possessions they could put into his pickup. These were the days of hyperinflation, when a wheelbarrow load of Zimbabwean Dollar notes was needed to buy a loaf of bread.

William had relatives in neighbouring Malawi that he had not seen since he was a child. They lived in a village in the south of the country, near Blantyre, the second-largest city in Malawi, which was about 12 hours by bus at the time through the Tete Corridor Mozambique. He drove to Harare bus station and put his wife and six teenage and young adult children on the Harare to Blantyre bus at 5 am, gave her 500 US dollars, and then drove to the airport and sold his pickup for enough dollars to buy a one-way ticket to London, Heathrow.

William painted a vivid picture of what went on back then in Zimbabwe. The beatings by the army and the police and the Zanu PF youth wing, of anyone, thought to oppose Mugabe. The forced repatriation of land from white farmers to the so-called War Veterans and the subsequent running down of those farms to zero yields. In 2005 when Mugabe upped the anti, to win that year's elections by stating that if you are not Zanu PF, you are assumed to be MDC and therefore a target for political violence. Shocking violence has been a constant feature of Zimbabwean politics since June 1960 when huge protests in Harare and Bulawayo, Zimbabwe's two largest cities. One the seat of Government and center of the Shona dominated North of the country the other the capital of the South of Zimbabwe, bordering South Africa and home to the Ndebele people.

Things took another turn for the worst in 2000. Parliamentary elections in June 2000 were marred by localised violence, government intimidation of opposition parties and electoral irregularities. That was when the movement of those that could afford to leave the country or had connections abroad began. People started leaving Zimbabwe for South Africa, Botswana, Malawi, and Mozambique. The lucky few were able to go to the UK or Germany.

In January 2002, the Youth Brigade of the Zanu-PF assaulted residents of Ruwa and Mabvuku, sealing off the towns of Bindura, Chinhoyi, and Karoi. This was part of a recruiting drive and to weed out members of the MDC before the upcoming elections. The offices of The Daily News (Zimbabwe's leading independent daily newspaper) were petrol bombed in February 2002 and Mugabe's Government sent soldiers to Matebeleland, giving 2900 white farmers 45 days to wind up operations and another 45 days to leave the land and make way for black settlers. 2600 complied, but 300 refused to vacate their land and in mid-August 2002, they were all arrested.

Presidential elections were held in March 2002. In the months leading up to this, the Zanu PF set about wholesale intimidation and suppression of the MDC. This ensured an election victory for Mugabe but strong international criticism.

On the 3rd February 2003, a high treason trial of Morgan Tsvangirai was held. On the 7th December 2004, Mugabe announced that Zimbabwe was officially and permanently withdrawing from the Commonwealth to protest the organisation's criticisms of the Zanu PF and government policies.

The education system, which was once Africa’s best, and all of William’s children benefitted from, went into crisis because of the economic meltdown. Anyone who could leave the country or gated themselves into rich enclaves. The rest just hustled, stole, or grew what they could to survive, some did, and some did not. Due to lack of medical attention, starvation and death were commonplace in this broken country with no currency and a shattered economy. Following the Oxford and Cambridge syllabuses, this high standard of education is now a distant memory that has left many Zimbabweans of that age group well educated to British standard but frustrated due to the total lack of job opportunities in the country and neighbouring countries.

Mugabe's Operation Murambatsvina (move the rubbish) in 2005 targeted properties belonging mostly to urban opposition supporters. March 2005 was a particularly terrible month in Zimbabwe's history, and it was the month that William finally decided to flee the country with his family. It was a government campaign of large-scale forced slum clearance that directly affected over 700,000 people by losing their homes and livelihoods. There were many instances of assaults, beatings, murders, victimisation and discrimination.

This was the time when William decided that enough was enough, and he fled his home with his family in 2005 and travelled to London one way. The Zanu PF Thugs promise to return the following morning and take the boys or kill all of them, the reports of Molotov cocktails being put through the letterboxes of houses in their area where they were suspected MDC sympathisers. The street beatings, and this was all too dangerous and scary. Their lives were all in acute danger, so they had no choice.

The years that followed his arrival in London turned out to be very difficult for him until our paths met three years later. Despite playing in bands on the UK festival scene between 2005 and 2008, he was grossly exploited and as poor as a church mouse. However, this man had a lion's heart and character strength, and determination to survive to keep his family alive. His great musical talent never faded. It shone through and kept him going.

A nationally recognised guitarist, guitar teacher, and musician at stadium concert level, William had a lovely house in a Harare suburb paid for from his gigs with Leonard Dembo and other greats of the golden age of the Zimbabwean music scene in the 1980s and early 1990s. He had a comfortable life with his family until the time Mugabe started throwing white farmers off the land and giving the farms to the' veterans, and William got an offer for one. William never fought, but he was of the generation to be offered land taken from the whites. His agemates fought in the struggle for independence from Britain when Zimbabwe was Rhodesia, led by Robert Mugabe, a teacher who had been imprisoned for 11 years under Ian Smith's Rhodesian Government. The Chimurenga (struggle) lasted from 1965 to 1979, and Zimbabwe finally gained independence after Commonwealth supervised elections in April 1980.

William refused the offer saying he was no farmer but a musician, which made him a marked man from then. ``The farms went to ruin, all the machinery got sold," he explained. “when Mugabe gave the white people’s farms to the veterans that was the beginning of the end of the economy in Zimbabwe" he explained, "Zimbabwe went from Africa's breadbasket to 95% unemployment and starvation among the people”.

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About the Creator

John Vallis

Dad, uncle, Traveller, guitarist, academic, conservationist, environmentalist and wastewater engineer by trade.

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