Protein and the price of virtue

There's nothing quite like the smoky scent of meat, chicken or fish being cooked over a charcoal brazier. Often, on the drive home from work in the evening, I pass through Kabalagala and Kansanga, where my nostrils are assailed by goat or chicken muchomo along the roadside. Deep fried whole tilapia is also widely on sale.

But there's something very unusual about the Ugandan market for animal protein. As a general rule, the price of animal protein ought to correlate closely with the cost of producing (or catching) that same protein. The main driver for the cost of production of animal body weight is, not surprisingly, the cost of feed inputs, and the industry generally measures this through the Feed Conversion Ratio. How many kilogrammes of animal feed is required in order to produce one kilogramme of animal body weight.

The smaller the animal, the lower its feed conversion ratio. This is not exactly surprising. Large adult mammals have to consume large quantities of feed simply to maintain their body weight. Think of elephants, for example. Apparently an adult elephant needs to eat an extraordinary 200 kgs of vegetable matter per day! Blood temperature also affects the amount of energy required by an animal in order to maintain weight. Hardly surprising, therefore, that fish are the most efficient converters, requiring a mere 1.7 kgs of feed per 1 kg of body weight, followed by chickens, at about 2.2 kgs, pigs at 4.1 kgs, with goats and cattle (like these splendid long-horned Ankole cows) coming in at about 10 kgs of feed per 1 kg of body weight.

And yet, in Uganda, beef is the cheapest meat on sale, followed by goat, pork, chicken and fish, in that order. Of course, there's an explanation: beef and goats forage for their food so it is, effectively, free, apart from the costs of herding and paying vet's bills. Pigs and chickens are often fed on household waste or home-blended feeds. And fish has become a premium product due to over-fishing in Lake Victoria. Nevertheless, it is hard to escape the conclusion that there is a considerable business opportunity for efficient livestock and poulty farming and aquaculture, and for a more professional animal feeds industry.

On a more humorous note, I was recently reminded (by a billboard in Muyenga advertising a local Ugandan magazine) of Proverbs 31, 10: "Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies."

The glamorous Kampala socialite and Beyonce-wannabe Zari Hussein (pictured) doesn't seem to subscribe to this ancient wisdom. According to a local magazine, Zari proclaims herself to be worth at least 300 cows, a reference to her lavish kwanjula (traditional wedding) in late 2011 where her bride-price reportedly included 300 head of cattle. Now, using the feed conversion ratio above, and assuming a conservative body weight of 500 kgs per cow, that comes to a total nutrition requirement of a colossal 1,500 MT in feed. The equivalent in chickens would have required a delivery of 75,000 chickens or 330 MT in feed. Yet it would have cost the groom a good deal more to supply 75,000 chickens than the 300 cows. Bizarre.

Either way, Zari's bride-price was still fairly inexpensive in comparison to the rubies of the proverb. Unlike most things in life, it remains impossible to place a price on virtue.

Far from the Madding Crowd

I was very happy to watch the classic 1967 film of Thomas Hardy's Far from the Madding Crowd on TCM last night. The closest I had been to Hardy in recent years was the 2011 film of Posy Simmonds' cartoon strip heroine Tamara Drewe (characters and story inspired by Far from the Madding Crowd), entertaining in its own way, but with none of the raw passion and drama of Hardy's novel.

Besides the grand scale of the story and the excellence of the four principal actors, John Schlesinger's direction and Nicolas Roeg's wonderful cinematography and use of the Dorset countryside make the film a joy to watch. Its slow pace and intensity of emotion, especially in Boldwood's tragic obsession with Bathsheba, made me appreciate the extent to which the breakneck speed and special effect of modern cinema is destroying it as an artform.

I was also very interested in the depiction of late 19th century agriculture in England. Many scenes from the film are very reminiscent of the manual farming techniques used by the vast majority of African smallholder farmers, except that oxen and heavy horses appear to have been used much more for soil tillage. Experts estimate that less than 10% of agricultural land in Africa is tilled using animals. Given the widespread ownership of cattle in East Africa, it used to baffle me why the use of animal traction is not more common. Recently, I found a plausible explanation in John Reader's excellent history, Africa: Biography of a Continent. He attributes this apparent mystery to the harshness of the East and Southern African environment. As temperatures increase during the dry season, both forage and water for cattle become harder to find. Cattle therefore are at their weakest when the planting season begins at the onset of the rains, and simply do not have the strength to provide enough power to till the rock-hard ground. Contrast this with the pre-mechanical era in Northern Europe, where fields could be ploughed at the beginning of winter using well-fed animals, ready to be manually sowed in springtime.

The Lady with the Dog

It's time for my annual eulogy to Anton Chekhov. While I was returning from Lilongwe to Nairobi last Thursday, I eschewed Kenya Airways in-flight entertainment in favour of a book of Chekhov's short stories. Is there a better writer of short stories? I haven't found one yet. The Lady with the Dog is a perfect example, available online at http://chekhov2.tripod.com/197.htm. Bittersweet, tender, and beautifully-observed.

Call me Mzungu

White visitors to East Africa will very quickly understand the meaning of the word "mzungu". For a long period, I assumed that it was a direct reference to skin colour, but in fact it is derived from the linguistic root zungu, which in most Bantu languages means to wander about aimlessly. A comment, then, on behaviour rather than skin colour. Not so surprising, when one thinks back to the apparently aimless wandering that characterised the early European exploration of the African interior.

Regardless of its derivation, there is no doubt that mzungu now means "white". A day seldom goes by when children in my neighbourhood (who must see me almost every day) shout "mzungu" as I drive past. It is common currency on the street and in the media. And mzungus (more properly bazungu) themselves use it playfully when referring to one another.

Much as it can be irritating at times, I was surprised when a Ugandan friend asked me whether or not I thought it was a racist expression. After a few moments' consideration, I replied that I thought it probably was. My reasoning was that just as in the same way that the English use of the word "frog" or "kraut" were derogatory slang expressions for French and German people, so "mzungu" probably fell into the same category. When I expressed this view, my friend disagreed, on the grounds that we had very different histories, and that I fundamentally misunderstood what racism is.

I was reminded of this discussion by a radio item covering the English football race-row furore when a former black Premier League footballer expressed his view that there is no absolute definition of racism: rather, it depends on the context of the event and the perception of the person to whom the event is addressed. That is to say, if I believe that it is racist, then it is racist. At the time, this seemed absurd to me - surely there needed to be an objective, rather than subjective, test of what constitutes racism.

Having thought about it in more depth, I am beiginning to understand. Racism is, in essence, an unpleasant form of bullying or harassment, which depends on context, on history and on individual perception. Just as bullying or harassment is generally directed by the strong to the weak, by the haves to the have-nots, so racism is directed by the majority to the minority, by the settler to the colonized, or by the slaver to the enslaved. While mzungu therefore might be a racial expression, to speak of it being racist could only be true under very particular circumstances of the abuse of power by the majority.

There are variations on the T-shirt pictured above, my favourite of which is "Don't call me Mzungu". I wouldn't want to wear it, though. Since my discovery of the derivation of the word, I feel very happy to be thought of as an aimless wanderer through life.

Chipolopolo: reasons to be cheerful (part 4)

Earlier this month, I made a visit to Malawi. Not long ago, I wrote with pleasure about how much progress seemed to have been made in this lovely country, so it was with no little disappointment for me to witness a considerable deterioration in the Malawian economy over the last year or more. Malawi is suffering from a shortage of foreign exchange, partly as a result of the suspension of aid by some bilateral donors, and partly because of a structural imbalance in trade. In scenes reminiscent of Zimbabwe at the turn of the century, long queues of cars at filling stations provide visual confirmation of shortages in fuel supplies, while the increasing divergence between official and "parallel" (ie black market) foreign exchange rates threatens further destabilisation of the economy. One would have thought that politicians should by now have learnt that seeking to fix exchange rates in all but the most short-term of circumstances is an exercise in futility.

As always, despite all its problems, visiting Malawi was a pleasure. There is a gentleness and quiet courtesy about the country which has great charm. For once, the national tourist statement "the warm heart of Africa" is an entirely accurate description. It was therefore with some surprise that on a quiet evening at Pedro's Lodge in Blantyre, I heard a big shout echo across the city. Experience from Kampala suggested that shouts like that correlate very highly with a goal being scored in a soccer match and, sure enough, I quickly learned that Zambia had taken the lead in the semi-final of the Africa Cup of Nations. Malawi and Zambia are neighbours and friends, and the whole of Malawi was very much supporting the Chipolopolo (Copper Bullets) of Zambia in the competition.

Not only did Chipolopolo go on to beat Ghana, but in a dramatic penalty shoot-out they also went on to win the final and become champions of Africa for the first time. That they should have deservedly beaten the two teams widely expected to win the tournament, Ghana and Cote d"Ivoire, and generally played the most attractive football throughout the three weeks of competition are themselves worthy of great praise, but what makes Chipolopolo's success all the more worthy of celebration is that they achieved their victory in Libreville, Gabon, where 19 years earlier the entire Zambian national football team perished in a plane crash.

Their achievement should delight the whole world, and serve as a reminder to cynics everywhere that, every now and again, fairy tales come true.

Mangoes for sale

Taken yesterday by the roadside on Malawi's M1 between Dedza and Lilongwe. 100 Kwacha per dish of ripe mangoes (that's about 40 US cents). Wherever you travel across the continent, there will be similar roadside stalls during the mango season.

And yet, in Malawi's supermarkets, all you can find are cartons of imported fruit juice and sweetened juice drinks. The value chain is broken.

Africa and the ICC

The International Criminal Court is raising a hell of a storm across Africa. There are current investigations and/or indictments in Uganda, Sudan, Ivory Coast, DRC, Central African Republic, Kenya and most recently Libya. The fact that most of its current energies are focused on Africa has led to a disturbing discourse, promulgated by the powers-that-be, that the ICC is in some way "targeting" Africans.

This is very sad. It seems to me that it is an entirely good thing for people everywhere that there is an independent body able to investigate alleged crimes against humanity and bring charges against parties involved. And it also seems to me that we ought to be able to put narrow-minded nationalistic concerns behind us and wholeheartedly support the ICC's aims and activities.

To those, therefore, who complain that the ICC is anti-African, the logical response is to say that in fact it is pro-African, as it devotes so much of its time and resource to investigating alleged crimes on the African continent, and seeks to bring justice to the African victims of these crimes. It is also worth pointing out, as an aside, that the ICC is intended to be a court of last resort, which investigates and prosecutes only where national judicial systems and processes have failed, and that instead of complaining about the ICC it would be better by far to complain about the weaknesses in many African judicial systems - and then do something about them.

But these arguments usually fall on deaf ears, for the very human reason that we can all agree about a good thing when it happens somewhere else. The ICC is a wonderful organisation - as long as it's not going about its business in my back yard!