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     I planted a garden, again. I left my Zambian mini garden to my friends who were happy to transplant the flowers and eat the vegetables. This one’s in Switzerland – just a square wooden box, with herbs and flowers. But it’s a garden. Some of us were made to grow things.

It's a two hour walk to Vivienne's farm, past eucalyptus and pine forests. After a days hard work in the fields with the hoe, the walk home is hot and tiring. It takes a strong woman with a strong will.

     Like Patrick – Patrick drove us to the Botswana border for the Safari last week. He’s about 60 years old, and wants to retire and farm on his own land. We hear the same story from people his age all over Zambia. There’s a strong move back to the land. The land promises food and a place to stay, if nothing else. Their small pensions don’t promise much at all.

     Vivienne’s another one. She’s a few years from retirement from her position as secretary to the director of a large international institution. She tells her peers: “You’ve got to prepare for retirement now, before you’re finished working; get things in place.”

     Some years ago Vivienne started farming, and a year ago she was able to purchase five hectares of land along a permanent stream. There’s only one drawback – it’s a two hour walk into the farm from the highway junction. During the dry season it’s possible to drive in with a 4WD truck. But during the rainy season – then when planting and fertilizing happens, when she needs to be at the farm – the logging road is impassable. So she walks. Robert and I went with her the morning we left Kitwe. We were able to drive two thirds of the way that day.

Cassava is a 'cinderella' crop in the copperbelt, where Maize is King. But many are rediscovering it for its dependability - it rarely fails. Zambians eat the leaves and the roots.

     During the week Vivienne is professional in suits and heels. Weekends she pulls on a cap, dons a t-shirt and runners, and catches the mini-bus to the turnoff to the farm. The morning walk is comfortable – it’s still cool and she’s fresh. She spends the day on the farm, helping her workers plant the maize by hand, or peanuts, sweet potatoes or cassava. Sometimes she spends the night there, formerly in a makeshift grass hut, now in the burnt brick beginnings of the house she plans to live in some day. Sometimes she walks back the same night – pumpkins, or other farm produce wrapped in a chitenge cloth on her back. The sun’s hot on her back, the produce heavy, and she’s tired now.

The simple burnt brick house without power and running water is a far cry from Vivienne's comfortable house in the city. But it's her own, with her own land. She looks forward to moving out here in a few years.

     It’s commitment, she says, when I ask her how she does it. She has six children. Two are still at home, along with a grandchild. There are college fees now; mouths to feed. The farm provides the food at least, sometimes more.

     So when I make a small garden, just because I like to feel the soil in my hands, I feel very humble. I don’t have to walk a long ways; I don’t even have to garden at all if I don’t want to. For me it’s a luxury. For Vivienne it’s a necessity. But one she loves.

     If you’ve ever looked down the throat of a hippo (through the tele lens), it’s not hard to believe the story of Jonah being swallowed by the whale. The hippo is a strange animal – with its tiny pig like ears and massive heavy head. Robert and I are on a one day Safari in the Chobi National Park of Botswana. We spent three hours on a boat cruising the Chobi River, followed by another three hours on land.

This hippo was trying to intimidate an approaching safari boat. Hippos are vegetarians. Lying submerged in the river in pods during the day, they scramble up the banks at night to feed on whatever plants they can find.

     Crocodiles lie submerged along the shore, waiting for thirsty delicate gazelles. Monitor lizards stalk the water’s edge, keeping the crocodile population in check by eating their eggs. Birds of every size and colour flit through the brush. A water snake winds a swift path through the river.

     We’re fortunate to see a family of elephants lumber down to the shore to drink. Usually when it’s this ‘cold’ (cold enough to need a sweater in the morning) they don’t need to come to the river often. One mama sprays her baby with water to cool it down; a bull tosses sand all over his leathery skin. Later we watch two ‘toddlers’ roll in the mud. Botswana has 80,000 elephants, due in large part to a very successful anti-poaching program. They certainly can cause a lot of destruction, judging by the scraggy brush along the river.

Other African countries are looking to Botswana for clues in how to stop poachers hunting elephants for the ivory from the tusks.

     The lions lie passive in the dappled shade of a bush, heavy from the previous night’s feed. They help to keep the large gazelle herd of the park in check. The vegetation seems sparse and dry, and the dry season has only begun. We wonder how the park can carry such a large animal population. Our guide, ‘Six’ (he was born the sixth), assures us that the park is huge and can easily feed everyone.

     I’m not sure southern Zambia is good at feeding everyone. It seems a harsh land. The maize fields we see are stunted and spare. Our driver this morning, Patrick, says farming is a very hard thing to do here. Most people live by carving souvenirs for the tourists. But tourists are not turning up in large numbers this year. No wonder I feel a bit like the gazelle with a herd of lions when I near the souvenir stalls at the Victoria Falls! I must seem like prey to the many local vendors.

So much water, and so dry along the shores...southern Zambia is known to be drought prone, and many NGOs are engaged in helping locals to become more food secure.

     The mighty Zambezi River, starting in the far north-western corner of Zambia and flowing 3,540 kilometres to the Indian Ocean, is at its peak this time of year. The massive amounts of water thundering over the Victoria Falls sent fountains of gist so thick and high we never do see the falls in their whole width and height. The falls are one of the seven natural wonders of the world. Spectacular, magnificent, awe-inspiring…

     Thursday we leave Zambia again, for Switzerland. Time has gone far too quickly. We’re sorry to leave friends, old and new. Sorry to leave such a beautiful country. But the people we partner with are very capable of carrying out the work themselves. It’s time to move on again for a bit.

Mapalo's affectionate touch and smile are a blessing to us all. But for his mother, each day with this handicapped boy in Zambia is a challenge.

     I’d seen the boy last year already, lifting his walker over the potholes in the street, accompanied by an older lad. When I spoke to him, he tried to focus on me with his roving eyes, a big smile on his curious face. He struggled to walk, but that didn’t dampen his enthusiasm. He loved being out and about.
     This year I met Mapalo’s mother. Mapalo is Bemba for Blessing. Juliette told me his story. He was born in South Africa, at five months, weighing only 800 grams. Somehow he survived. When he was several months old, a shunt was necessary to drain fluid from his brain. Despite all odds he seemed to do quite well until he was two. Within a day the fluid from his brain drained much too fast and he became severely handicapped.
     Juliette says it was hospital error that caused much of his handicaps. At least the South African hospital is taking responsibility and all his hospitalizations and treatments there are covered.
But they can’t cover the daily problems that are magnified in a country such as Zambia, where Juliette returned to work in order to cover the increased cost of living with Mapalo. Her dentist’s license was not valid in South Africa. She has to travel to South Africa for all his medical care.
     When Mapalo was little, it was easier. Things were manageable. But it gets harder as he grows older. She laments that she can’t find diapers in his size. So he wears ones too small, causing rashes and rubbing spots. She can’t carry him anymore. Streets are all so potholed; it is difficult for him to move with his walker. Services like occupational and physical therapy are either unavailable or out of the reach of the ordinary Zambian.
     She is very grateful for an NGO that runs a school for the handicapped and provides bus service to pick him up. That is, when there are funds. Sometimes funds are not available, and he has to stay home. He gets aggressive then. Mapalo loves activity and variety. He gets bored at home, even though Juliette has hired a woman to care for him when she is working.
     I stopped by the other day. Mapalo was sitting out on the veranda, happily turning the wheels of a new walker, one with a seat so he can sit when he is tired. Another gift from the NGO, as are the colourful sturdy toys scattered around him. “This is all from you people,” Juliette tells me. Without the support from overseas donors, Mapalo might be like so many were or are in this country – locked behind doors, an embarrassment for his family.
     Juliette is thankful to live at MEF, a safe community where people have understanding for her son’s handicaps. Out in one of the city’s many compounds, he would be ridiculed, teased. “It would not touch Mapalo,” she says. “But it would touch his mother.” And things are already hard enough for her.

     Chewing a handful of soybeans, I watch the modern John Deere STS9670 combine chew its way down the field. To one side is the slim silver outline of the idle irrigation pivot, behind it the dark outline of the Mkushi hills (or mountains as they call them here). Robert’s riding along with Ken, Rassie Du Toit’s combine operator. The soybean and maize harvest is in full swing in the commercial farmer’s block of Mkushi, Zambia.

Ken calls his boss about a problem with the sieves on the computerized combine.

    Yesterday Robert and I were conducting a business workshop in a humble church an hour down the road. Robert discussed production problems while I led the budgeting and planning discussions. The dirt floor was swept clean, under a partially covered roof of rafters made of large branches tied together with wire. The group of small farmers sat on rough hewn logs placed on heavy forked branches pounded into the floor.

A humble church is just as effective a venue for teaching as a sophisticated conference hall. Learning happens everywhere.

     The two worlds aren’t just an hour apart – they’re often only a fence apart. Sometimes, especially when we visit big farmers like Rassie, I wonder about the effectiveness of what we are doing when working with the hoe farmers. It seems they’ll never ever get even a foot hold into Rassie’s world. 

     But when I see their concentrated faces, hear their animated discussions as they plan a budget for the next crop I feel rewarded.  Chongo tells me that after our workshop his wife said to him, “That was powerful. Now I understand why you want me to reinvest the money from our crops.”  Then I know we are making at least a small difference in the lives of these small farmers.

     The farming project we support in the Mpongwe district has spread to an affiliated church group in Serenje, some hours away. Usually the main social structure of a rural community,  many NGOs use churches to disseminate information about health problems (such as AIDS awareness), and other community development issues.

     A few days ago we facilitated meetings in Mpongwe. Pastor David said, “When it comes to money most of our people are like infants still crawling on the floor.” It is a fact all of us involved (the African leaders and we Canadians) didn’t give enough attention to. So we are working harder to train people to budget and plan their farming business, and also their own personal business. Pastor Jessy tells us because of that people are now able to plan so they still have maize to eat before the next harvest. That alone is a major accomplishment.

Small scale farmers from the Serenge area work together to make a budget for a field of maize.

     But the last question we discussed yesterday is the hardest one. After you’ve sold your harvest, how do you protect your capital until it’s time to buy inputs again? The problem is a cultural one. When a friend or relative comes to you with a need, it is your responsibility to help if you are able. That’s where the capital often goes to, and the business dies. This is a question the Zambians must answer themselves. And it’s not an easy one!

     My mother taught me to bake bread when I was nine. Neither of us dreamed that simple act would one day touch Africa! I met Eliness at a Natural Medicine workshop I was facilitating. A week later she visited me with a friend while I was baking whole wheat bread and I offered them a slice fresh out of the oven, with butter. Mmmm! This is good! “Would you like to learn how to bake bread?” Of course!

Eliness looks like a professional already! Alibess makes sure she's kneading that Zopf dough just right.

     Eliness comes this morning with her friend Alibess, armed with a notebook to jot down recipes. Each ties one of my chitenges around their waists (Zambian cloths that do duty as aprons, among a hundred other things) and starts measuring, mixing and kneading. “It’s easy, isn’t it!” I say. They are surprised that it is so. I’m always surprised that people think making bread is difficult.
     We don’t just make plain bread. I show them how to make ‘Zopf’, the special braid that is sold everywhere in Switzerland for the Sunday morning table. It’s no more difficult to make than bread really. The trick is in the braiding technique. After the second braid, the girls have it figured out.
     “Can I put sugar in the dough and make a sweet braid?” Eliness asks. “The taxi driver boys would love this.” Her mind is already churning out ideas of how to turn this new skill into money. Good woman! We discuss the different things you can add to the dough, how to adapt it to many different uses. Then we make pizza dough – realize we don’t have any tomatoes and turn it into quiche which they like even better. “This would be very good to make for a tea party!” Eliness exclaims.
     I am aware that I am not just teaching a couple women new recipes. I am giving them survival skills, as community development worker Sandra Bagenda would tell me. Few people in their neighbourhood know how to bake bread. Many would like to buy it. It can turn into a nice side business.
     Eliness is HIV positive and on ARVs since 2005. Her courage in accepting and dealing with the disease has made her a role model for many in the community. She has an active leadership role with a group of HIV positive people. Anything she learns she will be sure to pass on.
     A few weeks ago I gave her some Artemisia plants. She transplanted them and they are growing really well. She’s already researched the internet to learn more about this plant that will boost her fragile immune system and help her body battle the deadly virus. She’s a fighter. And I’m so happy I could do something little today to help her.

     April Fool’s Day – right. “What’s the table and chairs for?” Robert asks, as he helps Stanley unload his truck. “That’s for Marianne, when she teaches about Moringa and Artemisia.” Whoa. Can you clarify that?? He did ask me if I would say a few words about Artemisia, but he didn’t specify what. Or that I would be manning my own station at this field day on his farm!

Participants listened attentively and posed many questions for this novice field man/woman!

     Actually, I have a great time. We set the table up in the scanty shade of a young tree at the edge of the Moringa field. Stanley started planting Moringa in 2007 and now has over 700 of the ‘miracle trees’. He produces Moringa leaf powder for sale, a food supplement. I’ve studied quite a bit about Moringa myself, especially in preparation for a Natural Medicine workshop. So I’m not totally unprepared.

     Stanley is very prepared. He has Moringa powder with him, Moringa seeds, pounded seeds to show how to purify water, an Artemisia branch, dried Artemisia, and the best pruning shears I’ve ever used. Behind me are the Moringa trees – some of them freshly pruned, some older. I just need to start the sessions off and the questions take care of the rest. It’s easy to facilitate learning when people are so keen.

You're never too young to learn to be a better farmer!

     Rainy season is malaria season, so interest is high in the Artemisia plant, which has the ability to cure malaria in most cases. (I’ve written about that before.) It’s also a powerful immune system booster, so important for people who are HIV positive. Everyone in this country knows someone with AIDS. In Canada we would be more interested in its cancer fighting abilities. If you want to learn more about Artemisia, check out www.anamed.net.

     The old man swings the chaka hoe again, bringing it down to make another permanent planting basin in the maize field. His village neighbours look on. They know the conservation farming system works – they’ve seen it on his field.  He’d laughed at his boss, Stanley, when Stanley first told him to prepare the field like this – digging only planting holes, evenly spaced – instead of digging up the whole field. But when he saw the maize that matured in those basins, he stopped laughing. This last season he tried the system in his own field. Now he’s teaching his neighbours who are full of questions.

Peter explains conservation farming before Stanley's very successful local maize crop.

     The participants are getting back on the bus, I’m sitting back in my lawn chair, sighing a breath of relief, when a village woman comes towards me fiercely shaking her finger, and pouring out a torrent of loud words. Oh Oh. What did I say wrong?? Nothing. She just wants to know the name of the Mzungus who have come to this field day near their village. “What’s your name?” I ask her then. “Audrey,” she says happily. We shake hands and she’s off.

     This is the best field day I’ve attended – and we’ve attended a few now. Here people are learning from each other. Those who two years ago had hardly heard of conservation farming are now teaching others. It’s great to see progress!

     The Canadian Government might be disbanded, but that doesn’t stop them from collecting our taxes. It’s that time of year. And don’t think running away to Africa dispenses you from your duty!

     Sometimes though, I see something paid with Canadian tax dollars that makes me feel really good. (In fact, every time you drive down a decent road, send your kids to a good public school that actually has text books and a library, and drop by your doctor expecting excellent affordable health care, you should be thanking God you live in Canada!)

     Robert and I attended the agriculture Field Day at TransAfrica Theological College just outside Kitwe. The college is partnering with CIDA (Canadian International Development Agency) to sponsor a community agriculture program. For the last year, members of the surrounding community – over 70% women – spent one day a week at the college for education in plant nutrition, soil science, and conservation farming. Each student was given a lima (one quarter hectare) as a practical project on which most of them grew peanuts. The student fields promise a good crop.

An agriculture program grad proudly explains the advantages of using Trephosia as a green manure.

     The school has a large demonstration field, on which they do research on various local crops, using conservation farming methods. A student was stationed at each crop as field man. I can only imagine their pride. A year ago they were just poor Zambians, now they are teaching others. This is empowerment.

I'm sure these girls have an extra bearing in their hips! Traditional dancers twist to the beat of the drums.

     An important emphasis of the program is learning to grow productive crops using alternative sources of fertilizer instead of the expensive chemical ones. They make compost utilizing widely available local sources, use animal manure, enrich the soil with leguminous crops and shrubs, and teach sustainable methods of land preparation.

     Part of the Field Day was the graduation of about 90 students from the community program. There were the obligatory speeches from local dignitaries and the school principal. A group of youth entertained us with traditional dances and a drama highlighting the importance of conservation farming. Then the graduates were called up, one by one.

     Many of the graduates were older women. Some were shy, curtseying low before the dignitaries handing them their certificates. Others were jubilant, dancing up, singing and clapping their hands high over their heads. Zambians know how to put on a good show!

An agriculture program grad curtsies low as she receives her certificate.

     Now, all these people need is land to practise what they have learned. They gave a passionate appeal to the District Commissioner’s deputy for land, which he promised to pass on. I think if they want land, they’ll have to find it themselves – i.e. gather together as a group and rent a piece of land, or find an abandoned piece they can utilize, etc.

     The men marching single file down the bush trail in front of me stop abruptly. Excited, they point and exclaim. What? A snake! Where? I strain my eyes, follow their pointing fingers, but I can’t see anything.

See it? The dark grey line in the middle. No wonder women and children seeking firewood sometimes get bitten!

      “It looks like a stick,” they explain. Then I see it – a long thin grey line, looking for all the world like a piece of the dead tree, sticking out into thin air only a few feet from me. Someone picks up a big stick to kill it, but not before Robert takes a few pictures. It’s safe enough – it hasn’t flared it’s ‘nostrils’. Then it’s dead. We move on to look at another farmer’s field.

     Carol didn’t get her farm loan renewed this year because she still has a large part of her last year’s outstanding. Her story disturbs me greatly. I was so happy for her last year. She was given a loan by the church to grow a plot of maize and was expecting a good harvest. The maize would provide food for her three children and some to sell. She was a proud woman – until that drunkard husband of hers slipped out at night, stole her maize and sold it for booze. He took her last bag of maize from her too, and she was left hungry for three days with her children.

Carol's field last year. We should have helped her harvest it right then and there! What will she do now?

     The church is counselling with her and has sent her to victim’s counselling. The sad thing is that this story is just too common.

     I was surprised that the women’s small business loans weren’t more successful. Most of the loan money came back, but Pastor Jessy says not one of the women is still carrying on with the business. He suspects many of them didn’t even start. What went wrong?

     Jessy says most of these women have never handled money. Their men take care of everything financial. If they need money for food, the men go buy the food. Women are more afraid of defaulting on a loan than men, so they might have been too afraid of the risk and done nothing. Or they began a business, returned the loan, and used the money to buy things. Looks like our training needs improvement! If you have any good leads here, let me know please.

We need to rethink our small business training strategies!

     I talked to a Zambian social worker with experience in rural areas. Ernest says that if the men are not involved in these business loans from the beginning, the women will usually fail. The men need to be invited to the initial meetings and taught what the loans are about, and the women need their consent. Otherwise the women won’t have the courage to try.

     That explains the answer my two widowed Zambian friends gave when I asked them if they were married: “No, we are widows,” they replied. “We are free!”

     Spending a week in the villages with our Zambian farming friends was a huge learning experience again. We enjoyed the fellowship, the walks through the bush (including the snake part!), and seeing the fruit of their labour. There are good things going on, for all the sad stories in between.

     Robert swerves around the goats lying on the highway. I guess they like the warmth of the pavement. David tells us the chief just heads right into the herd. It seems it’s the chief’s way of making a point clear. People constantly come to the chief’s palace to complain about goats destroying maize crops. All goat herds are supposed to have a shepherd with them. So – are we wrong to drive around them??? We’ve actually encouraging bad stewardship…

Hit them or miss them? Just one of the small quesions an ag development worker has to answer...

     We’re on our way to Serenje with Pastor David. The Mpongwe small farmer project has extended to this new district, and they’ve given 10 farmers there a loan for the first time. Pastor Jessy, our coordinator, was to come too, but he is home with a bad case of Malaria.

     Yesterday we toured the maize crops of four widows in Mpongwe, who each received small loans of 200,000 kwacha – about Cdn$45. Jessy says they gave small amounts because people need to learn how to manage a loan. It was interesting to see what the women did with the money.

It's an exciting day when the Mzungu (white) comes to the village. Everyone follows us to the widow's field.

     The first woman bought seed for ¾ acre, some cow dung (it’s much cheaper than fertilizer), some peanut seed and some seed for an indigenous legume crop they call roundnuts. This elderly woman planted the maize early and it looks really good. She did all the work by hand with a hoe. The woman lives in a small village in a mud hut and takes care of her older sister. Part of the corn field had quite a weed infestation. Jessy’s wife Loveness told us that the woman’s other sister was sick then, and the woman had to take care of her until she died.

The huge smiles of the women are reward enough for the small help we give them.

     The second woman bought seed and herbicide. I wondered why she bought herbicide instead of fertilizer. The woman herself wasn’t there, but Loveness told us that she is an old woman. So maybe she is not strong enough to do the weeding anymore, and decided it was better to have a weed clean field than to buy fertilizer?

     The third woman bought only seed and planted twice the acreage. She planted very early, end of October. We know that planting on time – around mid November compared to mid December as most do – improves your yield by 50%. Because the soil is very fertile here she will have a decent yield. I wonder which woman will have the most net income?

     Loveness emphasized what these small loans have done for these widows. It gives them hope, and the opportunity for a better future. The first woman showed us where she would expand her field the next year. Another woman said she will buy fertilizer with some of her profit next year, to improve her yield.

     I often wonder if these small loans can make a difference. When I see the huge smiles on the face of these women, and see the pride they have in the fields they have been able to plant – when I see the difference in using certified seed to local seed, then I realize that the loans are important. I doubt everyone will sustain and grow what they have received. But some will and for those this is life.

Stuck on the farm! Good thing Stanley was well prepared with two shovels!

     Stanley and Robert weren’t afraid of Malaria. Grey heads close, one darker, one lighter, they shovelled and heaved and pushed. They are strong healthy men. Stanley would tell you it’s because he regularly eats Moringa powder. I’ve got him stored in my phone under ‘Stanley Moringa’.

     We’ve been asking to see his farm. He’s got over 700 Moringa trees, from which he makes a good quality powder to sell to the wealthier Zambians. Until now he’s kept up with demand. He charges 50,000 kwachas (4,700 kwachas equal Cdn$1) for 100 grams of dried powder. On the label it says: gram for gram of Moringa leaf powder contains 7 times the Vitamin C in oranges, 4 times the Vitamin A in carrots, 4 times the Calcium in Milk, 3 times the Potassium in bananas, 3 times the iron in spinach, and 2 times the protein in milk. Moringa has often been touted as Africa’s answer to malnutrition. It could well be that.

     But Stanley doesn’t just produce Moringa. He has two plots of maize and three of groundnuts (peanuts), some beans and sweet potatoes. He grows more groundnuts than maize, because he says people don’t steal them.

Stanley wants to show others what can be done using their own local resources, without outside inputs.

     He’s a good farmer, it’s easy to see. We drove past many fields on the way. Too many were yellow, and obviously struggling – planted too late. “And they always plant on the same place,” Stanley laments. Stanley’s healthy maturing maize is rotated with legumes.

     This is the second year he’s growing maize using conservation farming (CF) methods. Last year he grew one lima – a quarter hectare. He says he harvested two tonnes from it. That equals eight tonnes per hectare – a good yield even for a big commercial farmer. The average small scale Zambian harvests one tonne per hectare.

     The success was enough to convince him to grow all his maize that way. This year he grew one lima of local maize – using his own local seed, not a hybrid – and fertilizing it with cow dung, and a little urea as top dressing. That’s his nicest crop. He wanted some pictures to show his cooperative what can be done with little means.

     We noticed how weed free his local maize was. Stanley sprayed it with Atrazine when it was still small. Robert says they used to spray with Atrazine in Switzerland, until it was forbidden because they found traces in ground water…

     This man cares as much about empowering others with health and knowledge, as he does about doing a good job himself. He’s very happy that one of his workers decided to grow his own maize using CF.

     Robert bought two jars of Moringa powder. Next time he won’t need a shovel – he’ll lift that truck right out!