Changing Seasons

After a very long and very inexcusable absence, I am back in the blog world!

I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but one of the things I miss from home is the changing of the seasons. I feel rather disoriented in time without the seasons to guide me. Thanksgiving came and went while I sweated in 40 degree weather and ate shima and beans. How was I to know it was thanksgiving without the bright colours and sweet smell of October leaves? It takes a while being in one place before you start to see the patterns and find new ways to mark the passing of time. With time you begin to change and learn to celebrate what each new season has to bring in different ways. 

Salad Season- In July and August, vegetable harvesting was in full swing. Every day, the extensionists and I would have fresh salad made from the lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and cabbage from our demonstration plots. There is nothing like pulling fresh produce from the ground that you’ve grown with your own two hands. The weather was also cooler during this time. It would go all the way down to 17 degrees at night; curling up in a big sleeping bag felt so cozy! I am thankful for fresh vegetables, cool weather, and the joy of seeing the hard work of community members pay off!

Me with my colleague Romão and lead farmer Sr. Jacinto in Matambo during the hight of the vegetable season. How many different vegetables can you point out?

OK, so this doesn't have a lot to do with vegetables, but I had to fit it in somewhere. Me with a cow at the water pump. The cows are here because there isn't water anywhere else. When you see just how dry it is everywhere, you realize how invaluable the sand dams are as a source of water for growing vegetables.  And if you are wondering, it's not cold; I've just gotten really used to wearing a sweater even when it's 25 or 30 degrees.  

See the difference in colour between kale grown using mulch (right) versus kale grown without soil cover (left). 

 MCC Retreat Season- September 23^rd. Not weeks after my arrival in Mozambique last year we went on a team retreat on a wildlife reserve. This year we got to see another side of Mozambique’s natural beauty- long sandy beaches. Last year I was the new one to MCC. This year I was on the retreat organizing committee and got to welcome two new MCC members to our team. I am thankful for the wonderful support and friendship I have in the MCC Mozambique team. 

Aziza and I at the water's edge. 

 Birthday Season- October 10^th. For the second year in a row I have celebrated my birthday Mozambican style. My host family in Beira sure knows how to throw a party. I celebrated together with my host brother who turned three this year. There were homemade samosas, chicken, fries, shrimp, potato salad, rice and beans, and at least 5 different cakes! A DJ kept the music blaring all evening (at least until the power went out). There was even a bouncy castle for the kids this year! I am thankful for celebrating not only my birthday but also one year in Mozambique with my Mozambican friends, family, and colleagues. 

I mean, just look at that cake. Not to mention the balloons. Not seen in this picture are the three-inch red and black heels I was wearing. 

Training Season- October and November. Time to prepare for the upcoming field crop season. The staff at CCM participated in a conservation agriculture training seminar together with staff from another NGO and government extension workers. The agricultural extensionists and I also worked together to give day-long training sessions in a few different communities where we work. Fields are being prepared for growing maize and millet according to the three conservation agriculture principles: minimal soil disturbance, soil cover, and crop rotation. I am thankful for the opportunity to teach and to learn. 

Explaining how we should look at the slope of the ground before starting to dig holes for planting; you want to make sure any water running on the service falls into the holes.

My colleague giving a training session in the community of Maule Maule. I seem to be distracting a couple of the kids  as I took this picture, but everyone else is paying close attention!

Women from Nhamunhu digging planting basins- they are helping to prepare a demonstration plot by the road. 

It's already November and I can't help but already be thinking about the upcoming season of Christmas. I’ve been away from home over Christmas for two years now, but will be back for a visit this year. As someone who has always loved the Christmas season, experiencing Christmas in very different ways over the last two years has had a profound impact on me. I am both extremely excited and also a little nervous to be coming home for Christmas this year. I am thrilled that I’ll have a month in New Brunswick to see my friends and family and that I get to do so over the holidays. But I can't help but feel some apprehensions as well. Will Christmas at home be as I remember it? Even if it is, what if I have changed?

I remember a quote I heard once when I was a kid, which has always stuck with me.

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.” Helen Keller

I used to say that running at top speed down the stairs.  But now this phrase is taking on greater meaning; you have to take the risk of stepping out of your comfort zone away from what is easy, knowing that when you do you might very well change, and that change, though not easy, is often good.  Those are the moments you feel most alive. Now I'm in Mozambique and not only are the seasons different, but in some small ways so am I. There is joy in celebrating seasons we know and love, but there is also beauty in change. 

*Note to my dear friends on the East Coast: if you didn’t catch that, I will be home for a visit from December 20^th to January 16^th and then coming back to Mozambique. The month will go by quickly but not so quickly that I won’t have time to visit all of you lovely people! I’m looking forward to taking some time to relax and catching up with all the latest. Be in touch come December as I start to piece together what I’ll be doing when.

My Favourite Things

How many times have I been asked the question, “ What is your favourite thing about your work overseas?” And how many times have I given the same predictable, unrevealing answers, “Oh, I like working with the communities, the way I’m always learning and growing, getting to use my interests in science in a way that really helps people.”

To get good answers, you have to ask good questions. When a child is in school, it is common to ask them, “What is your favourite subject?” Sure, if you don’t know them at all, this is a great place to start, and will give you an idea of their general interests. “I like science.” My father used to ask me every day after school, “What did you learn today?” This question demands thought every time and has a different answer every time. It reveals what really made an impression on me, what was of great interest and worth remembering, and why it was memorable. “Today we were learning about thermo dynamics in chemistry class and made ice cream by putting a ziplock bag of milk in a container of ice and salt. Now I’ll never be able to eat ice cream without thinking about heat capacity.” 

When people ask me what is my favourite thing about my work, I rarely have a chance to tell the stories; the stories that get to the core of why I love what I do. “What is it about working in with the communities in Mozambique that you enjoy so much? How has your understanding of development; community; religion; politics; truth; happiness; family been shaped by your experiences? What is it about your work that you look forward to every day? What did you learn today?"

I want to take some time today to share with you some of my “favourite things”. These things are too small, too seemingly insignificant on their own to earn a place in a response so broad as “the favourite thing about my work”. But these are the true, deeply meaningful experiences from my agriculture work in rural villages that I will carry with me always.

I feel so welcomed when community members remember me by name and greet me in their local dialect. It is my favourite thing when I return to Maule Maule and someone asks me where I’ve been for the past three weeks and then takes me to show how things are going in their garden.

It is my favourite thing when a kid climbs up the closest maçanica tree, shakes the branches, and I get to join everyone in picking up and eating the fruit.

It is my favourite thing to share an inside joke with my colleagues. 

It is my favourite thing when I get to show people that I’m actually just a normal person too. Maybe normal is a stretch, but when a group of people were digging a pit in the river bed to access water for irrigating their vegetables, I took my turn with the shovel too, to the surprise of many. In the hot of the afternoon I can fall asleep on the ground under a tree with the best of them. Just because I've not yet mastered the art of carrying water on my head doesn't mean I've never watered a garden before. Eating with my hands? No electricity? No big deal. Sadly, I somehow don't have many pictures of me being normal, but you'll just have to trust that I right after taking this picture I took the shovel from the guy on the left.

It is my favourite thing just to be with people. Yesterday I was sitting on the ground with a group of women and picked up the baby of the woman beside me and started playing with him. It touched my heart when my colleague translated what one woman said; “We can’t speak Portuguese so it is hard to talk with you, but we can see that this baby is very comfortable and happy to be with you.”

It is my favourite thing when people teach me things. Last week, this woman in Matambo was teaching me how to bundle kale using strips of wet bark.

I don’t want to give the jaded impression that my work is all “raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens.” There are times when the dog bites and the bee stings. These things should not be overlooked nor their importance undermined. The answer to the question “what did you learn today” is not always as delicious as ice cream. The roses have thorns and the kitten has claws. These lessons should be learned and not ignored. But at the end of the day it does the heart good to dwell on those things that are good; to give praise for the simple blessings that we experience everyday.  

A snapshot of life as an extensionist

The temperature in Tete is changing; winter is coming. Well, what they call winter. When my friends here see me shivering in a sweater and scarf at 25 C, I have a hard time convincing them that winters in Canada are like stepping into the freezer. A few weeks ago, before the temperature started dipping at night, my colleagues and I were sitting outside the little house where we stay when we are working in the field. The still, quiet dark was beautiful in a way only possible when you live off the grid in the middle of nowhere. I was lying on my back on a straw mat, drinking in the stars, when it hit me. I am actually here.

I am actually here. Here, doing agriculture work, building friendships, learning and growing, under the stars of Mozambique. What used to be a dream is now more real than I ever could have imagined. What I wrote off as impossible has become my career path.

That night, my colleagues and I stayed up late (9 o’clock!) discussing our work, the latest Brazilian soap operas, evolution, the Bible. We were up by 6 the next morning, getting ready to go about our work in the communities. The extensionists are all responsible for 2-3 communities where we have built sand dams. I take turns going out with different extensionists to see how things are going, meet with the community members, and give some suggestions. Now, in the cool season, the vegetable gardens are underway and the areas around the dams have transformed. Grass and brush has been cleared, fences put up to keep out the livestock, seedbeds are full of young plants, and transplanting has already begun.

I had the pleasure this week to show my host brother around some of the communities. The first time I told my host family I wanted to spend the night with the other extensionists in the field, they raised their eyebrows with a look that said, “really?” Now they’ve gotten used to the idea, and my brother has been asking to come out with me. He got quite the experience seeing three different dams, transplanting cabbage, spraying for grasshoppers, eating sugarcane and baobab fruit a boy brought us, and chasing goats away from our cook fire, all in two days. His real initiation to field work came when he went with one of the guys to bathe at the water pump and their motorcycle broke down. It took them a good hour to push it up the long hills back home!   

But why talk when I can let the pictures speak for themselves? Here’s a snapshot of last week. I just want to add that it is an honour and a privilege to have such a close relationship with this project, with my co-workers, and with the communities where we work. This really is only a snap shot. It does nothing to capture that wonderful feeling when people call me by name, greet me in their local dialect, and then ask where I’ve been the past 2 weeks. 

My colleague Romão teaching the women of Capinga to plant tomato seeds. These have long germinated and some have already been transplanted. 

Each generation, from the youngest to the oldest, is helping out in Nhamunyu!

There is always time for a little fun in the evenings.  I taught the extensionists how to eat with chopsticks like I did last year in Cambodia. They caught on a lot quicker than I did! 

Handing out papaya seedlings to community members in Maule Maule. 

Posing with the community of Capinga during a visit by the MCC Mozambique representative.  

Transplanting kale in Ngalo. This area is an association of 15 or so farmers who work together to grow vegetables and cassava. 

Host bro Inacio doing the same. 

Hanging out under the shade after a long morning of work. This was right before we dug into the sugar cane!

My favourite photo of them all. There is nothing like the smile of one who sees birds up close through binoculars for the first time! 

Any place worth going is worth taking a long time to get to.

You could cite a different African proverb every day for a year and still not come close to exhausting the supply of those fabulous bits of wisdom. It might seem strange to you then that I have not made proverbs a more prominent feature in my blog. This is largely because I feel like a child here at times- the recipient of said proverbs, not the giver. Can I speak with enough wisdom and authority to pass them on to others?  But I guess we are all both learners and teachers.

I have now passed through the Johannesburg airport a few times. On the wall of the departing lounge in letters a meter tall is written:

“If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”

Yesterday I was coming back to the city from working in the field with a group of other agricultural extensionists. We had all stayed the week in their house in the small community of Capinga, going out during the day to various surrounding communities to carry out conservation agriculture activities. Done for the week, we were heading home on our motorcycles, plodding along at 30 km/h on a highway where I knew I could easily go 60 or 70. We were stuck at a snail’s pace because a couple of the motorcycles had seen better days and decided that they’d had enough of highway driving. In case one of them spontaneously stalled and needed a push start, we stuck together. The temptation for me to pick up speed on a downhill, slip into 5^th gear, and speed home to a shower and clean clothes was immense. I could have made it there in half the time traveling alone. But then the above-mentioned proverb came to mind. I was wrong. Alone, I would not have made it home in half the time. Alone, I would have still been stuck in the little house in Capinga. That very morning I couldn’t get my motorcycle running on my own and needed to ask Dercio to start it for me.

Alone, I would not get very far.

My colleague Dercio Romão planting cabbage in Capinga. 

I felt bad a few weeks ago when I had to catch an early bus, and my host brother was volunteered by his mother to escort me to the station. I was telling my MCC colleague how I felt bad, but Stephanie said, “don’t feel bad Rebecca, that’s what brothers are for.” Sure enough, the next day when I knocked on my brother’s door at 4AM, he jumped out of bed without the least big of sleepiness or grudging, picked up my bag, and saw me to the bus. When I need to know what is appropriate attire for a wedding or want to learn how to crack open and grate a coconut… that’s what sisters are for. When I need to buy a helmet in the part of town where guys always whistle at me, that’s what brothers are for. You could choose to be independent and go it all alone. But when you choose to call on your brother or sister, instead of feeling embarrassed or helpless, you feel like you are a part of a family where people help each other, because that’s what brothers and sisters are for.

You don’t have to go it alone.

A group of women in Caphaia working together to make seed beds and plant vegetables for the first time. 

Mennonite Central committee works primarily by partnering with existing local organizations in the country where we work. We normally do not carry out our own projects, but rather support the endeavors of local churches and NGO’s working the areas of peace, relief, and development.  My North American sense of efficiency is sometimes compromised as a result of this complex but beautiful relationship. Then I ask my self,

“Why are we here? Is our purpose to go fast or to go far?”

Mr. Manuel standing in his garden plot in front of the dam at Maulemaule. 

Lucia António, Luisa Luis, and Quiniria Bernardo in Cabvewe. After three years with this project, they hardly need any reminders on now to prepare seed beds- they've got the experience they need to continue on their own.  

What does going far look like? It could be many things.  It could be local people with the compassion, vision, and capacity to have great positive impact in their communities in areas where they see need. It could be sustainable and just community development. It could be the growth of cross-cultural relationships based on mutual trust and collaboration. It could be communities worldwide in a right relationship with God, one-another, and creation (MCC’s own vision). We have far to go, but to the best of our ability, we are going there together.

Together, we can go far.

Me and the women of Caphaia standing in front of the 5 seed beds we planted together that morning- the first time for this community. As Romao and I were picking up our things to leave, a couple of the women picked up their hoes once again and started immediately putting to use what they learned by preparing more seedbeds so they could plant the leftover seeds.  

  

Lessons on conservation agriculture

The beauty of conservation agriculture is in its simplicity. Like so many things in life, we try to improve and make things more efficient, only to discover that over time these short-cuts cut-short our efforts. They may make things faster and easier for a moment, but over the long-term, we lose out. Even worse, our neighbours and our children lose out. Yes, if done well, conservation agriculture can be a beautiful solution to hunger. It can promote economic growth, and make food security a possibility for those with even the fewest resources.

Sitting with my colleague Sebastian at the first African Congress on Conservation Agriculture in Lusaka, Zambia, in March. We came back from the conference with many new ideas to share with our colleagues at the Christian Council of Mozambique. 

Conservation agriculture stands on three basic principles: minimal soil disturbance, permanent soil cover, and crop rotation. Where do these principles come from? By observing and understanding natural ecosystems in the world around us. When, in nature, do you see a field with just one type of plant? Does the soil spontaneously invert itself every year, suddenly exposing all of the sensitive microorganisms to the harsh rays of the sun? In a forest, does water run off the ground in sheets? When was the last time you saw bare soil in a meadow? Much like the human body, the resilience and sustainability of these ecosystems depends on a myriad of complex interactions, recycling, and feedback loops that keep things in balance. The more we remove our farming practices from the way an ecosystem naturally functions, the more work we have to do to keep everything going. Plant a single crop, and you’ll have to put more nutrients into the soil. Leave the soil bare and you’ll have to water and weed more. Plough, and the soil will become compact and hard, resulting in more water loss and more leeching of nutrients. The cycle continues to spiral. Our groundwater and rivers dry up from excessive irrigation at the commercial scale. What water is left becomes clogged with soil runoff and chemical fertilizers. Genetically modified crops boost yield and help secure against weeds or pests that could otherwise easily destroy whole fields, but we are forever reliant on those companies for seed, hoping we can make some profit before the pests in question become resistant and we have to turn to something else. Sure, with enough money and technology you can stay ahead and have good yields. But in the long-term, we lose out.

Sebastian taking notes during our field visit. Behind him a demonstration plot outside showing intercropping of Pigeon Peas and maize- a great way to keep the soil covered and restore nutrients. 

Demonstration of agroforestry techniques- Intercropping leguminous trees with field crops. The trees provide partial shade and give nitrogen to the soil, a system which can continue to give benefits for many years. 

 So, conservation agriculture seems like the perfect solution. We should all just stop plowing, rotate our crops with legumes to nourish the soil, and keep some sort of mulch or cover crop on the ground to keep the soil covered. Sounds simple, right? What about years of traditional knowledge about farming? What about social norms- what will my neighbours think? Why would I change something that is working just fine? You tell me to rotate crops, but I am not familiar with the leguminous plants you are suggesting- I want to grow traditional foods I know how to prepare. Intensive monoculture and fertilizer use was part of the green revolution- where would our world be today without that? Governments or other NGOs may be promoting and subsidizing heavy pesticide and fertilizer use, so why should I bother with the extra work of keeping the soil covered when the other way is so much easier¹? Besides, Africa uses way less fertilizers than any other continent; how will we ever catch up in terms of productivity unless we apply more? My neighbour raises livestock, and they eat all of the mulch material before I have a chance to put it on my field- are you suggesting I fence my WHOLE field to keep them out? It’s too much work; I have enough to do raising 5 kids all alone since my husband left to find work in the mines.

There are challenges to overcome, but how should we face those challenges? You have a particularly difficult chemistry problem sitting in front of you and your homework is due in an hour. Do you quickly copy the answer from a friend, who may or may not have the right answer? Do you just scribble something down, hoping you get partial marks? Do you cheat and look up the answer on the internet, knowing that does nothing to help you understand or solve the problem for when exam time comes?

Short-cuts cut-short. My highschool teacher used that phrase in class all the time. The same principles of doing things on-time, efficiently, and to high standard apply whether you are talking about chemistry homework or agricultural practices. Does this phrase suggest that innovation and initiative are discouraged? On the contrary! People who search for solutions with integrity, wisdom, collaboration, and foresight can bring about positive change. These solutions can improve efficiency, quality, accessibility, and resilience over the long-term. It is short-cuts driven by ignorance, laziness, or selfish ambition that cut short.

Adaptability is key. One of the many things I took away from my week at the conservation agriculture conference in Zambia was that there is no “one solution fits all.” No one NGO, program, or conservation agriculture program has all the answers. No one minister of agriculture promoting certain policies can solve all of the problems.  No magic phrase like “community mobilization” “farmer to farmer extension” or “participatory project development” will result in immediate uptake of CA techniques. It is a journey that needs cooperation, involvement, and servant-hearted leaders at all levels. It takes humility to admit when something isn’t working and to learn from those who’ve been on this road a lot longer than you have. It takes a listening ear to hear what community members are saying, or not saying. There are no magic short cuts, but there is much we can learn from each other and much we can discover by working together.

¹ CA in general does not condone or promote the use of fertilizers, though different NGO’s or government agencies may have their own agendas. Many CA extensionists instruct on the efficient placement and minimal usage of fertilizers in the first years to help boost soil fertility in areas that are seriously degraded. But over time, as soil fertility improves, fertilizer use can be reduced. 

The story of the time I joined the choir

Moving in with a new host family is always an experience and a half. This being my 4^th time (2^nd in Mozambique) I’d like to think I’m becoming something of an expert. But I’m not sure it is ever possible. At least this time I could speak the language! Turns out they STILL try to overfeed you even when you CAN tell them you really don’t need, or want, any more.

Two weeks ago I moved in with a family here in Tete where I am working with the agricultural extensionists at the Christian Council of Mozambique to introduce conservation agriculture techniques in the district.  I am staying with one of the admin assistants from the Christian Council of Mozambique. No one thought to tell me I’d be living with my colleague until the car pulled up to pick me up and she was inside! Dalia is the same age as me and lives with her parents, a couple brothers (also around our age), and one or two young nieces that come and go. That night, we ate rice and beans and watched brazilian soap operas on TV. After two weeks living with another Canadian MCC family in Tete, life was finally back to normal. A good normal.

Saturday I played soccer with Dalia and a group of her female friends/colleagues. With a couple of exceptions, most of them were as obviously bad at playing as I was, so we had a fantastic time! Her brothers had great fun tending the one goal and ref-ing the game. We grabbed a quick lunch at home and sang happy birthday to my host dad. We then ran off to church for choir practice (I tagged along since I obviously couldn’t stay home alone). Dalia wrote out the words for the songs so I could sing along. Saturday evening we hung out at home under the mango tree and I learned a new card game. By the end of the evening I only half understood the game (which involved a whole lot of table talk I couldn’t follow!) Sunday I went to the front of the Uneão Batista church and sang with the rest of the choir. What an introduction to the small, welcoming church! Sunday afternoon, we grilled one of the ducks they keep in the backyard and played cards until the sun set.

Moving in with a new host family always makes you take notice of things that in a familiar environment you stop noticing. Your go-to person for killing spiders is suddenly not there, so you have to find a new one. You notice things you used to take for granted, like knowing how to plug in a kettle, which you now need help with (trust me, it is scary). Finding balance between the time you spend alone and with others.  What you do to actively help out around the house. Letting others show they care for you in their own way, even if that now means giving a call when you are out past 9. How to find time for quality quiet time. The beauty of a good night’s sleep, which you suddenly need now more than ever.

Little by little, I am getting settled. I finally started winning occasionally at the card game. I then taught them a new one; we’ve been playing Dutch Blitz every evening and my brother might now be almost as good as I am! Almost. True, I’m still afraid to plug in the kettle, and sometimes have trouble starting my motorcycle in the morning. But the good news is you don't need to do it alone... that’s what brothers are for. 

My first Sunday at church in Tete- I learned this song during practice on Saturday. Someone told me the meaning and it was something like come follow Jesus. 

As for my work, I've been going out to the field quite regularly and meeting with the agricultural extensionists working there. My first week I was so exhausted at the end of every day that I think I went to bed before 9 at least 3 times. This past week I've been busy helping to train 3 new extension workers, and now I am getting ready to leave in a few days for an agricultural conference in Zambia. I am going with one of my mozambican colleagues, and my main responsibility will be to translate for him. It seems like a daunting task seeing as I only started learning Portuguese 5 months ago, but I am sure it will be a great experience for the both of us! 

The story that doesn't end- moving to Tete

…Instead of reading him a bedtime story, Calvin’s father is telling him the story of what Calvin and Hobbes have been up to since morning:

...Em vez de lhe ler uma conta, o Pai de Calvin está a lhe contar a historia sobre o que Calvin e seu boneco Hobbes estavam a fazer desde manhã.

Calvin: GOOD NIGHT?! That’s not the end! You didn’t even get us to lunchtime!

Dad: That’s right… it’s not the end of the story. This story doesn’t have an end. You and Hobbes will write more of it tomorrow and every day after. But now it’s time to sleep, so good night.

Calvin: This is a good story about us if it doesn’t end! That’s the kind of story I like best!  

Calvin: Acabo?? Ainda não chegamos ao almoço!

Pai: É certo... não é o fim da historia. Esta história nuca vai terminar. Você e Hobbes vão continuar a escrever mais cada dia depois por sempre. Mas agora é o tempo de dormir.

Calvin: Isso é uma conta boa sobre nós se nunca vai terminar! É este tipo de conta que eu gosto mais do que tudo.

A few weeks ago I spend some time reflecting on the wandering path that was 2013. I could never have seen ahead to those events I experienced. Now, who knew that I would not only plant rice in Cambodia, but that those very skills would come into practice in Mozambique? The story keeps unfolding in such marvelous ways!

Na semana anterior, reflecti sobre o caminho de 2013. Nunca poderia adivinhar as experiencias que eu já tinha experimentado. Quem sabia que eu plantaria arroz na Camboja e em Moçambique também?  Esta historia continua a desenvolver de maneiras maravilhosas!  

They tell you when you come to work with an NGO in a country overseas to not bring any expectations with you, as that is the surest way to be discontent. They also tell you that in all likelihood, what you actually end up doing on the ground will look very different from what you pictured reading the “job description” online.  Though this advice is well meant, it is something you cannot fully appreciate until you experience it for yourself.

Quando você vai trabalhar com uma organização num pais longe de tua casa, eles dizem que é melhor  não chegar com grandes expectativas sobre o trabalho. Eles também dizem que a trabalho que você faria em realidade seria muito diferente do que você acha. Este conselho parece simples, mas deve experienta-lo antes de compreender.    

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, the political situation in Machanga is still tense. With occasional vehicle attacks continuing on the northern road, and flooding waters threatening to cut off the southern road, I will not be able to go to Machanga for a while yet. So, we started looking for something else for me to do for the next few months. MCC has a partner in the province of Tete called the Christian Council of Mozambique (CCM). One of their project that MCC has been supporting for several years is the building of sand dams in rural communities. They also employ four local agricultural extensionists who go to these villages and demonstrate and teach conservation agricultural techniques.

Como já disse num blog anterior, a situação política-militar na região de Muxungue ainda continua. Por causa dos ataques armados e a possibilidade de inundação na rua do sul,  vou demorar mais para ir a Machanga. Por isso, precisei de procurar trabalho alternativo. A organização MCC (Mennonite Central Committee) tem um parceiro em Tete chama-se o Conselho Cristão de Moçambique (CCM). Lá em Tete, CCM construi as represas de areia e também ensina as técnicas de agricultura de conservação. 

New sand dam just finished this past november (will in time fill in with sand, the benefits of which I'll explain in my next post!)

Demonstration plot in one of the villages showing how optimum spacing, application of manure, minimum soil disturbance, and the use of mulch can increase quality and yield of field crops like maize.

A couple weeks ago, I endured the 11 hour bus ride to Tete to visit this project. I had been so proud of myself when I found the bus station using a map drawn by my Mozambican colleague on the back of an old receipt, and purchased a ticket all by myself. Apparently I bought the wrong one though, because as soon as I got home, everyone said, “you are taking THAT bus??” I didn’t think it was all that bad, if a little longer than the speedy mini-bus ones. But it left at 5 instead of 4, and that is reason enough to take the slow bus for me.

Na semana passada, sobrevivi a viagem de 11 horas a Tete para visitar CCM. Fiquei tão orgulhosa de mim que  consegui  procurar um bilhete sozinha, mas quando cheguei a casa, a minha família me tinha dito que eu compara uma bilhete da empresa de machibombo mais pior. É verdade que a viagem foi muito lenta, mas só precisei de sair as 5 horas (não as 4h), e tinha mais espaço do que as outras linhas.

After the formalities of being introduced to the staff at the Christian Council of Mozambique, I spent the rest of the week soaking in all I could: the sights, sounds, and tastes of Tete city (ate hamburgers for the first time since leaving home!); the successes and challenges of CCM’s work in Tete; and the experiences of farmers delving into conservation agriculture for the very first time.  And this leads me back to where I started... where this journey is taking me next. Last week I moved to Tete to work with CCM for a few months. I’ll be joining their agricultural extensionists, in the field, working with them to plan ahead for the upcoming vegetable season, and helping to gather stories of the farmers’ experiences. The plan is still to go to Machanga to teach at the school come July, but that part of the story has yet to be told, and who knows what tomorrow will bring!

Segunda-feira, fui apresentada aos trabalhadores de CCM.  Durante  a semana seguinte, passei a conhecer a cidade de Tete e o trabalho de CCM na região. Também comi muitas coisas deliciosas que nunca comi desde que sai de Canada (hamburger, tacos, macarão de vietnam...). Fui no campo com as extensionistas para ver as represas e os campos onde praticam a agricultura de conservação. No Fevereiro, irei trabalhar em Tete por  3-4 meses. Irei junto com as extensionistas ao campo, ajudar na horta, e fazer relatórios sobre as experiencias dos camponeses. Espero que em Julho possa ir para Machanga, mas esta decisão ainda incerta.   

And so the story goes on…

E a história ainda continua....

Graças ao professor Pinto pela correção do texto português

The Machamba

My eyes are fixed on the ground in front of me. I am walking. Each step a test of my stability, my balance, my resolve. I am walking through waist high grass, ankle deep mud, knee-deep water. The path turns. I am walking on a narrow raised ridge of slick, muddy clay. A misplaced step in either direction will land me face first in someone’s rice paddy. Back into the water, feeling with my bare toes for a footing in the murky depths. My head is down. I am concentrating so hard that I miss the curious stares of the people we pass working in their fields. I mumble a reply to their greetings only when I’ve had time to stop and catch my breath, catch my bearings. I scarcely hear the voices of the birds calling from the tall grasses.

I am walking, but I am not walking alone. I am following in the footsteps of an elderly man. A man who has lived and worked here his whole life, and will continue to work until the day comes when his body goes to rest and he no longer needs to cultivate the rice which has thus far sustained his days. His feet move with the steady assurance of one who has walked this path thousands upon thousands of times. Slowly and surely, he moves forward. Only by my quick balance the grace of God am I able to stay on my feet, scrambling through the mud and waters as I try to keep up. He turns around to wait for me. Steady on, he says, steady on.

We finally arrive at his machamba, his field. They all looked the same to me, but he knows this field. It is the one he has been carefully and expertly cultivating for many a year. His Portuguese is limited, as is mine, so we revert to using gestures. He motions me to copy him and demonstrates how to thin the rice that was planted a few weeks ago, and transplant the seedlings to another part of the field. It is long and hard work in the hot, hot sun. The longer I work, the more I start to worry. Am I doing a good job?  What if my technique is off? What if my inefficiency and inexperienced hands cost someone a meal? But with my tired legs and slow hands, the amount of work I do is hardly significant.

What is perhaps more significant was my presence at the machamba. People come over to see me. The old man, my host for these three days of rural farm life, explains my presence to the onlookers their local dialect. I do not understand a word, but wish I knew what he was saying. I’m not sure I could have found the words myself to explain what I was doing there. What did I hope to achieve by going to plant rice for three days? What did I hope to learn by living off the grid in mud house and transplanting rice seedlings?

I am bent at the waist, my feet in the mud and my hands in the mud. Count one, two seedlings and push them into the soft ground with your thumb. One, two, thumb. One, two, thumb. My mind wanders. I think of everything and nothing at the same time.  My skin is burning in the sun and the drinking water in my bottle is almost gone. The old man and I are working side by side now, planting the last of the rice. I look up, surprised at how far we have come together.

It is the afternoon and time to return to the house. I am exhausted and we’ve only been working for 4 1/2 hours. We are walking through the muddy fields. I slip and fall. Embarrassed, I get up again, but no one laughs at me. We keep walking. We stop and say hello to the woman standing in her field; a baby at her breast and a hoe in her hand. I look up and see a little songbird land in a bush nearby. He starts to sing.  The old man turns around once more. Steady on, he says. We are almost home. 

Rice about to be transplanted. It is easier to do when the seedlings are younger and smaller, but things sometimes get delayed or are hard to time with the rains.

In the machamba.