Sunday, November 28, 2010
Mukona - oops
BTW ... MUKONA is the siLozi word for Faidherbia albida. doop-de-doo, get the big oaf away from the computer.
Mukona
Decent week on the Faidherbia albida front. I can't dedicate too much time to it during the week because I'm working. However, I do work at the Food Reserve Agency depot in Senanga, and people are always coming and going, either to pick up their receipt for their maize sales, or to pick up their crop input supplies (Fair Warning: As a PCV, I have to be circumspect about what I write on that topic).
Anyway, how to get people to plant some of the seeds I have that ZNFU/CFU generously gave me (a couple of kilograms, i.e., countless thousands of seeds)? Well, I hung a simple sign on our gate that read "MUSANGU / FAIDHERBIA ALBIDA SEEDS AVAILABLE ... INQUIRE IN FRA OFFICE" on Thursday; so far four people have come in for seeds. Their is always some apprehension, as I think maybe people expect to have to pay for the seeds; after I hand them over and ask that they let me come and see the results in a few months, they do a double-take and smile.
I've been teaching direct seeding, as we're getting late in the year for nurseries. Giving enough seeds for farmers to plant at least two in a station at the same time as they plant their maize. We'll see how it goes!
Anyway, how to get people to plant some of the seeds I have that ZNFU/CFU generously gave me (a couple of kilograms, i.e., countless thousands of seeds)? Well, I hung a simple sign on our gate that read "MUSANGU / FAIDHERBIA ALBIDA SEEDS AVAILABLE ... INQUIRE IN FRA OFFICE" on Thursday; so far four people have come in for seeds. Their is always some apprehension, as I think maybe people expect to have to pay for the seeds; after I hand them over and ask that they let me come and see the results in a few months, they do a double-take and smile.
I've been teaching direct seeding, as we're getting late in the year for nurseries. Giving enough seeds for farmers to plant at least two in a station at the same time as they plant their maize. We'll see how it goes!
Boxcar Willie's Train Comes In
I'm struck by the changes sweeping over Zambia thanks to the degree of connectivity (vis-a-vi cell phone, electronic media, email, etc.) Nothing seems to capture this more than the other day at work; my coworker PN asked if I had any country music that I could give him.
Those familiar with Zambia will tell you that nothing is more jarring to be sitting in a bus with 20 other Zambians when the usual stream of kalindula or modern Zam-hip-hop blaring out of the speakers is interspersed with various Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton, or Don Williams songs. Sometime around the Islands in the Stream release, the labels must have dumped about four billion extra copies of those three on Southern Africa. Consequently, your neighbors on the bus all know and sing along to "My Coat of Many Colors", "The Gambler", "My Love For You will Never Die", and so forth.
Though the big-three of Zambian country remain Dolly, Kenny, and the Gentle Giant, there's a real hunger for expanding the country music horizons. I have no semblance of an idea for this, but suffice it to say that when PN asked, I obliged with Moe Bandy, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, and of course, that bard of the rails, Boxcar Willie. Now, PN sings the "Wabash Cannonball" with gusto, and periodically asks me to define words (i.e. yesterday I explained what a honky-tonk is).
Hopefully, the next time the bus radio comes on, the Mulemena Boys will be followed by Loretta Lynn.
Those familiar with Zambia will tell you that nothing is more jarring to be sitting in a bus with 20 other Zambians when the usual stream of kalindula or modern Zam-hip-hop blaring out of the speakers is interspersed with various Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton, or Don Williams songs. Sometime around the Islands in the Stream release, the labels must have dumped about four billion extra copies of those three on Southern Africa. Consequently, your neighbors on the bus all know and sing along to "My Coat of Many Colors", "The Gambler", "My Love For You will Never Die", and so forth.
Though the big-three of Zambian country remain Dolly, Kenny, and the Gentle Giant, there's a real hunger for expanding the country music horizons. I have no semblance of an idea for this, but suffice it to say that when PN asked, I obliged with Moe Bandy, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, and of course, that bard of the rails, Boxcar Willie. Now, PN sings the "Wabash Cannonball" with gusto, and periodically asks me to define words (i.e. yesterday I explained what a honky-tonk is).
Hopefully, the next time the bus radio comes on, the Mulemena Boys will be followed by Loretta Lynn.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Pure Seed. Good Seed. Zam Seed.
It's not really the Peace Corps if you can watch the 7 o'clock news, is it? I turn on the (note definite article) channel, Zambia National Broadcasting Corporation (ZNBC) to catch the evening news. The news is news, usually business- or development-related, but what strikes me as far more interesting are the commercials. At least 75% of the commercials are about washing detergents; there is seemingly cutthroat competition for having the most suds, best smells, etc. My favorite is the Kuwasha (colloquial Bantu for "to wash") brand commercial, in which a cat reads the "Kuwasha News", after which three women proclaim the virtues of Kuwasha to the stars.
More interesting at the level of agriculture, or agroecology in the social sense, are the advertisements for maize seeds. The ever popular Seed-Co utilizes an cartoon-animated cob of corn named "Bwana Mbeu" (not sure of the translation, maybe "boss seed") who extols the virtues of Seed-Co seeds while moving about the maize field in a pair of gumboots. Zambia's warhorse of a seed company, the former parastatal Zam-Seed, also advertises its wares. However, the spokesperson is a very large man wearing what I would characterize as the "commercial farmer uniform" ... a long-sleeved khaki shirt worn under a tan vest with numerous pockets, with a round-brimmed hat perched on his head (also khaki). He laughs a lot while patting a bag of seed, alluding to the inherent cleverness in a farmer who selects the right seed for his or her area and is rewarded with a bountiful harvest. Common to both commercials, however, are the background vista of straight rows of mile-high maize, tractors pulling equipment through the field, and so forth. The popular perception of agriculture is a modernized version. Though it is understandable that marketing doesn't show some rail-thin farmer and his family toiling away with a set of hoes eking out a living from one or two hectares, it's important to recognize the distance between what is a farmer and what one is expected to be in order to be considered a successful farmer. It's small wonder so many farmers profess themselves as failures ... the bar is so high.
Humor for the day ... what being a PCV in Africa is like. This is actually frighteningly close to the truth.
More interesting at the level of agriculture, or agroecology in the social sense, are the advertisements for maize seeds. The ever popular Seed-Co utilizes an cartoon-animated cob of corn named "Bwana Mbeu" (not sure of the translation, maybe "boss seed") who extols the virtues of Seed-Co seeds while moving about the maize field in a pair of gumboots. Zambia's warhorse of a seed company, the former parastatal Zam-Seed, also advertises its wares. However, the spokesperson is a very large man wearing what I would characterize as the "commercial farmer uniform" ... a long-sleeved khaki shirt worn under a tan vest with numerous pockets, with a round-brimmed hat perched on his head (also khaki). He laughs a lot while patting a bag of seed, alluding to the inherent cleverness in a farmer who selects the right seed for his or her area and is rewarded with a bountiful harvest. Common to both commercials, however, are the background vista of straight rows of mile-high maize, tractors pulling equipment through the field, and so forth. The popular perception of agriculture is a modernized version. Though it is understandable that marketing doesn't show some rail-thin farmer and his family toiling away with a set of hoes eking out a living from one or two hectares, it's important to recognize the distance between what is a farmer and what one is expected to be in order to be considered a successful farmer. It's small wonder so many farmers profess themselves as failures ... the bar is so high.
Humor for the day ... what being a PCV in Africa is like. This is actually frighteningly close to the truth.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Sand, heat, and Internet
As Roland said when he saw the Western Sea ... "Cuthbert, I'm in the West." I'm finally at the evening horizon of Zambia. Though the country continues for another 100 miles to the west, the Zambezi has weight as a physical boundary. On the far side, an endless vista of green: the Barotse Floodplain, which extends to the Lutona forests marking the border of Zambia and Angola.
But here on the eastern bank, our feet bake in the sand. Sometime in a distant, drier past, an immense drift of sand blew up from the Kalahari. This drift remains; though it is more well-watered than the past and features any number of trees (of which I'm still familiarizing), it is still fundamentally sand. Meaning fundamentally tough to walk through. Also, sand has that strange capacity to radiate heat back up at you. This is a surprise from my past experiences in Zambia (Kasempa and Serenje) ... I think in those cases, tree cover (in the case of the former) and altitude (for the latter) kept the hot, dry season from ever feeling too hot. Here, there are fewer trees, it's strenuous to get around, and the heat is Philistine ... needless to say, I sweat nearly 24 hours a day.
The sand is interesting w. regards to the F. albida stands here ... unlike Monze, there are few upland trees, and most are clustered along the slope adjacent to the Zambezi River. Only found one upland, so can't yet characterize the tree's behavior in these sands. Oh well ... those that are there along the river are fascinating ... especially given that they have shed many of their seeds and are slowly losing their leaves.
One cultural note ... though the tree has been popularized under its Tonga / Nyanja sobriquet, musangu, the Lozis I've spoken to who've heard of musangu don't associate the tree with that name. I've heard it called a few different names ... will need to pin down the local names.
Other than that ... miracle of miracles, the organization I work for has satellite internet. I'm a bit out of my head by posting, tweeting, sipping Roibos tea, whilst in the reality (?) of Western Zambia. As long as it doesn't get in the way of learning siLozi, I think I can balance the two.
But here on the eastern bank, our feet bake in the sand. Sometime in a distant, drier past, an immense drift of sand blew up from the Kalahari. This drift remains; though it is more well-watered than the past and features any number of trees (of which I'm still familiarizing), it is still fundamentally sand. Meaning fundamentally tough to walk through. Also, sand has that strange capacity to radiate heat back up at you. This is a surprise from my past experiences in Zambia (Kasempa and Serenje) ... I think in those cases, tree cover (in the case of the former) and altitude (for the latter) kept the hot, dry season from ever feeling too hot. Here, there are fewer trees, it's strenuous to get around, and the heat is Philistine ... needless to say, I sweat nearly 24 hours a day.
The sand is interesting w. regards to the F. albida stands here ... unlike Monze, there are few upland trees, and most are clustered along the slope adjacent to the Zambezi River. Only found one upland, so can't yet characterize the tree's behavior in these sands. Oh well ... those that are there along the river are fascinating ... especially given that they have shed many of their seeds and are slowly losing their leaves.
One cultural note ... though the tree has been popularized under its Tonga / Nyanja sobriquet, musangu, the Lozis I've spoken to who've heard of musangu don't associate the tree with that name. I've heard it called a few different names ... will need to pin down the local names.
Other than that ... miracle of miracles, the organization I work for has satellite internet. I'm a bit out of my head by posting, tweeting, sipping Roibos tea, whilst in the reality (?) of Western Zambia. As long as it doesn't get in the way of learning siLozi, I think I can balance the two.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Almost ...
They say that you don't worry about carrying eggs until you're almost to the kitchen. That's about how I feel; anxious to get to Zambia, but worrying over what I'm taking.
Truth be told, I'm taking everything I "need" in my carry-on (a NATO-style canvas backpack). GPS, thermometer, documents (WHO card, passport are the must-haves), a number of pens, my journal, a wind-up flashlight, a radio, and a few sundries like toothpaste, socks, etc. Oh, and a fishing reel ... you can take the boy out of the U.P., but ...
Always said to say goodbye to Upper Michigan, esp. at the close of the year. Somewhat poetic / ironic ... it's supposed to snow a bit Thurs. and Fri. My friend N.J. in Lusaka says that the inswa (flying termites, a favorite food) are emerging, a harbinger of the coming rainy season. Leaving one change to land in another. Too bad it precludes deer season; I genuinely enjoy walking in the woods.
Truth be told, I'm taking everything I "need" in my carry-on (a NATO-style canvas backpack). GPS, thermometer, documents (WHO card, passport are the must-haves), a number of pens, my journal, a wind-up flashlight, a radio, and a few sundries like toothpaste, socks, etc. Oh, and a fishing reel ... you can take the boy out of the U.P., but ...
Always said to say goodbye to Upper Michigan, esp. at the close of the year. Somewhat poetic / ironic ... it's supposed to snow a bit Thurs. and Fri. My friend N.J. in Lusaka says that the inswa (flying termites, a favorite food) are emerging, a harbinger of the coming rainy season. Leaving one change to land in another. Too bad it precludes deer season; I genuinely enjoy walking in the woods.
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