Weekend in Ouaga

My friend was on the phone speaking with her mother and told her she was going to Ouagadougou for the weekend. Her mother replied, "Now how do you pronounce that."

Basket of carrots taking a short break from a woman's head while she talks to a friend at the Ghanaian Embassy.

Spent the weekend in Ouaga with a lovely group of expats (french, dutch, australian, american) for Fespaco, the pan-african film festival of Ouagadougou. It was a really good weekend. Once I got over the initial overwhelming bustle of a city like that, I was able to get to know Ouaga a little better and enjoy it. Not well enough to get around, by any means, but enough to want to maybe someday learn.

My friend Cara excels at selecting hotels.

Sunny and calm morning at the Ghanaian Embassy

Gabonese filmmaker Nadine Otsobogo made a short film called Dialemi, Elle s'amuse about a sculptor and his muse.

Lula Ali Ismail from Djibouti directed and starred in Laan, another short film which I sort of understood.

Touring the bronze workshop. Melting down some faucets and things.

A form for bronze

One Cool Thing Humans Have Invented Is Language

Note: this post was written a couple of weeks ago.

I just got back from a grueling, horrendously full-of-failure but nevertheless emboldening and enlightening day in Ouagadougou. I spent the better part of 12 hours trying to accomplish a simple errand, and returned home empty-handed, exhausted, and covered in la poussiere.

La poussiere is a french word that I learned here, it was not a part of my life before arriving. Translated into English, it's "dust" but when I hear it or use it, I don't translate it into our english word dust, in my head. And I wouldn't confuse it with what we may call dust in the states. It's hot, dry earth in flight. On windy days, it covers everything, your breakfast, the inside of your throat, your clothes hanging out to dry.  It's also wonderfully cool and dry against sweaty feet, and gives one a feeling of great accomplishment in the shower to see it leave one's skin. It truly has its own identity and temperament, and lives independently in my head separate from any other concept.

An unforeseen boon from today's fruitless trip (besides getting to see a man literally climb all over everybody on a crowded bus while selling toothpaste…twice, the same man on two different buses. What is the demand for toothpaste on commuter buses.) is that I managed to pick up a French-Mooré lexicon. It's less dictionary and more language workbook. (Note: when I wrote that, I had only looked at the first two pages. The rest of the pages are, well, exactly like a dictionary.)

One thing that makes being human really pretty neat is language. In fact, I'm going to go out on a limb and say it's the thing that being human is all about. And the coolest thing we as a species have ever invented.  Feel free to disagree with me in the comments section below, but your own words will be working against you, proving you wrong.  And while it's true that scientists continue to find we're not the only one's who had this bright idea (ex: octopi and other cephalopods, who communicate by changing colors and folding and unfolding their bodies, have been found to have both syntax and grammar in their communications) it is human language that continues to fascinate me each day. I have obvious biases. 

Nasaara, or white person, is the first word I learned in Mooré. I also learned that it's a totally normal greeting shouted to Nasaaras walking on sidewalks by adults and children alike. (But mostly little ones)

I've also been reading (and re-reading, and crying over) the way Hemingway crafted english that feels and reads like Spanish. It breathes a life into his characters and a fresh but gritty realness into the setting. 

Baarka means thank you, but it also means blessing.
So when you thank someone, you just say blessing.

In Mooré, the word for child, biiga, is the same as the word for grain or seed. I believe that the way a language is structured gives clues it gives us about the cultural values and understandings of the people who have crafted it over generations. This is what fascinated me as a student learning french- driving me to try and understand where a word or phrase came from, it's latin root, it's context in the fabric of the culture. This understanding, when I managed to obtain it, was truly the driving force behind my love affair with the language. This love affair ended long long ago, but unlike most, it could probably be reignited with a little focus.

For you non-francophones, the Mooré word for "to be" is bè. Cool right?

I am far, far, far from understanding how the language Mooré grew and lives and breathes. I can barely (but proudly) count to ten. But I'm digging the insight it can give me about a place and how the people there relate to it. 

The same word means to flatter, to trick or play a joke on, and to console a crying child. Think about that. 

So as I travel through life and time, I'll probably continue to geek out over the most powerful and beautiful tool we've ever invented. And the fact that we invented it everywhere…and everywhere, it's the same only different. 

Just like we are. 

Through A Student's Eye

Thanks to the generous spirit of some friends and family (and family and friends of friends) I was able to bring 12 digital cameras to College MLK to start up a photo club. This was a real treat. For everyone involved. 

The students were excited to get started. We talked a little bit about photography as a career skill- about some different career paths where it could come in handy, and a little about composition and lighting. 

Here are some of my favorite shots from the sixieme- sixth grade. Enjoy.

This portrait is my favorite of all the photos we came up with. What do you think?

Points for creativity and style

Mangoes

Spacing

Personality

I like the contrast, small student, big tree. This type of tree gives us shea butter.

bikes waiting for the lunch bell

One of the two kitchen staff headed in to start lunch, a beautiful shot.

Chop

Color

Abigail is one of our dance stars, too.

Boisterous group of students bidding one of their teachers farewell for the day

Meet Collège MLK

So the main reason for the trip I've been on for the past month is to help out with a school garden project for Collège MLK, a private middle school in Ziniare, Burkina Faso. So here is a little bit about the school. I want to try and share with you the feeling and character of the place. 

Collège MLK students walking around campus. College MLK is named for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. for commitment to justice, non-violence, and spiritual leadership.

College MLK is marked by a sort of relaxed discipline, and an extremely warm and welcoming courtesy. Each morning, students line up in the courtyard for a brief visit and a prayer. The school is  Christian: Protestant- like it's founder, Jean-Daniel Glauser- but students make up a blend of Muslim, Catholic, Protestant, and probably others. Everyone seems to be cool with the protestant prayers, which I think is neat, just sharing some spiritual commonalities and not fussing over the technicalities.

Uniforms are a cheerful and relaxed sky blue shirt, which is sometimes a T-shirt, a polo, or a button down, and navy blue pants, plus the girls have the option of a slim, longish navy blue skirt (which most do opt for.) There is also a very sharp special occasions uniform- which involves a beautiful top for the girls with a rounded blazer collar and navy waist belt (very Pan Am) which I got to see at a special soiree we had. Each day when I arrived, most students took a few extra steps to come and greet me in a way that was respectful, sweet, and welcoming. There are internes- students whose families are far away, who sleep at school in the dortoir and eat in the refectoire (For the boys, the girls dortoir is nearby in town, and they go back and forth with the school's van) and les externes- who are local to Ziniare and go home at midday and each evening, to return in the morning for studies during the week. 

A sea of bicycles whisks les externes off to lunch

A game of Clue at the girl's dorms

In the classroom, first off, when you walk in, everyone stands to greet you. I hear this is an old-school thing that used to be done in French and British schools (I'll have to ask my folks or grand-folks if it was custom in the States.) Then as class returned to normal, I got to see a taste of normal coursework. Teacher asks question. Seven or ten hands fly up, snapping, pointing the first finger, and saying "me madame" in french or "I, Sir" in the english class. School is competitive. Each time graded work is returned, the teacher starts on one side of the room and hands back each one (the graded papers are impressively perfectly in order) and announces the grade for all the other kids to hear. Someone is first in each class in each subject. Someone is second. I was thinking this must be a French thing, but my friend is telling me now that it happens in Nigeria too, and maybe Ghana (I know Ghana at least has the class ranking, because a lady who was collecting our money for some pottery and ecotourism in Sirigu told us she was second in her class in Maths.) So we are wondering if it isn't a West African thing. If anyone knows, do chime in. This competitive spirit doesn't seem psychologically traumatic or anything, it's designed to bring out the best in each student, and, at least at College MLK, it seems to do just that.

While academically rigorous and challenging, all the seriousness at College MLK is balanced by fun and friendliness. I heard the sixth grade dissolve into giggles while in English class. They were shouting "Elbow! Hand! Arm! Leg!" and one student would have to be the one to name all this difficult and probably silly-sounding stuff (remember that the French was already a second language, now English is third or fourth) and the speed would increase fervently until the class ended up in boisterous laughter. Also boisterously laughing is me at my desk.

School grounds includes plenty of room for future expansion. 

A high school building is envisioned for this space, meeting the current middle school building. Far left is the site for the founder's home for someday when he moves onsite. You can also see that yes, it's quite dry here.

I also was lucky enough to join the students in a little festival of storytelling. College MLK invited L'Ecole Francaise, from Ouagadougou, to come out and participate and listen, and a professional Mossi storytelling to keynote. We shared a fabulous meal (almost everything eaten in Burkina is locally sourced) and then gathered in the courtyard into chairs in a semi-circle for stories, dancing, and ending with a djembe accompanied story from the professional story-teller. While not officially a contest, there was an obvious desire to shine in comparison with the french school. While I can't claim complete objectivity and lack of bias, I will say that College MLK impressed me wholly and unsurpassedly. Memorable moments were a fabulous group story segment, traditional dancing with grass skirts (the warba is a wonderful dance that is mostly booty shaking- sort of a rapid one-hip-at-a-time swivel forward, it's not immodest booty shaking- luckily I got to learn it many times) What really stole the show was a choreographed dance to a popular song, it was exhilarating and lovely. I only wish the lighting had been better so I could share video of that night with you. However, here is a behind the scenes shot from practice beforehand: 

Some of the CMLK students (mostly young ladies with one gentleman) are truly talented dancers, and all of the dances were very nicely choreographed by Dorothea, the girl's surveillant, who supervises and mentors the girls after school and in their dorms. Dorothea is a young woman about my age who really impressed me with her ability to both connect and communicate with the girls, and strictly but kindly enforce rules and authority…and with her dance moves. 

The three surveillants manage to walk the line between friendship and authority with students,
as well as bust some sick dance moves.

Stayed tuned for more from this group of bright young Burkinabes.

Agro-Ecology Conference

Attended a conference last week on agro-ecology (which we defined as synthesis between agriculture- a word which in french means specifically raising crops- animal husbandry, and forestry: with a spirit of regeneration and stewardship)

As is always the case with events like these, the biggest outcome for me was reigniting the fire that inspires work in agriculture and environment. Getting a group of leaders in their fields like that together to share their ideas, techniques, and inner fire always brings further understanding and ideas for innovative solutions.

This guy's outfit was better than his presentation. It happens.

Crowd favorite, crushin' it.

One speaker in particular was a true inner-fire-candle (blow-torch?) An older man, he opted to skip the Powerpoint (gutsy!) and sat at a table facing us all and spoke. His words bore repeating, and I heard them again at lunch, both from my friends (he was the obvious favorite among the my young, african, agro friends) and at other tables around. He said, yes, we need agro-ecology practices that will assure durability from a socio-economic perspective, but we also need practices that will assure durability from a cultural perspective. He talked about integrative health of humans and ecologies- preventative before curative. He talked about learning from the peasants, and about taking into account traditional cultural values- tracking them and noting which ones are regenerative, which ones can save the world. He talked about poverty, hunger, and climate change as symptoms of a cultural malady- the divorce of man and nature. This resonated so strongly with me, with my permaculture training, the work I've done with Richard Louv, and the nature mentoring reading I've been doing. I love when life ensures that a particular message gets reinforced from different directions.

One aspect I was fascinated watching was the dynamic between the French and the Africans who were there. There was sort of this moment during the afternoon workshop where a French man asked the workshop host- the head of a Burkinabe coalition of sector-specific ag orgs- kind of incredulously why they were not working more closely with the equivalent organization in France. The workshop host answered respectfully and with a smile that the work could be done well autonomously. I was sort of silently picturing what this French guy would say if the workshop host had come to France and incredulously asked the head of an organization "Don't you know we have an organization just like this in Burkina Faso? Why aren't you working with us and following our model?" I was pleased that the workshop host treated him with such grace and kindness I probably would have asked him if he had some cheese somewhere he should be off eating (shout out to French people, I love you guys.)

My friend Paul listening dutifully after a long day.

I also experienced some Sciences-Po PTSD in the aforementioned afternoon workshop, which was about the dissemination of agro-ecology practices at the social and institutional level. The conversation was lofty, conceptual, and at times very hard to follow for a non-native speaker of crappy french (much like every moment of every day at Sciences Po Paris in 2009- shouts out!) I was a little jealous of my friends who'd attended the other workshops and talked about concrete, real things like compost and cow poop. But hey, thus is the fate of the francophony foodie-enviro-student of social sciences.

I've also been sitting in on some middle school courses, which is wildly humbling. I miss the way my brain worked before college and the internet.

I'm grateful for all the learning I've been able to do lately.

Guié: Part 2

Hello again, this post is the second in the Guié series- Here's the first if you missed it. I want to just delve a little deeper into the work there and share some of the function stacking and some analysis of their work and systems. 

First off, it's worth mentioning that I was very very impressed with the caliber of the people out there and their work. The Pilot Farm at Guié is a part of a larger effort - AZN- Association inter-village Zoramb Naagtaaba- which brings together ten villages (such collaboration is quite rare and took a long time to get off the ground) and whose work includes -in addition to the farm- an orphanage and centers for education and health care, as well as the directing of the organization and it's administrative side. Each day, visitors come from other villages and regions, Ouagadougou, and Europe and the world to tour the place and see how it's done. The staff is young, highly committed to their work and lots of fun to be around. 

My friends and me in our shared courtyard in the morning. These guys work in all aspects of the organization AZN.

Paul Kibsa looks pretty happy though he doesn't like washing clothes. He works with the young people here, training them in sustainable food systems and regular school subjects like math and grammar. 

The bocage stacks so many functions- soil retention, water retention, leaf litter and mulching, windbreak, timber, food production, aesthetics, temperature and carbon mitigation... that it's really more of a design paradigm than a design element. You don't hear the word "permaculture" daily here (though some of the staff is really interested in it) but a look at the systems shows a thoughtful observation and interpretation of natural systems, recreated to retain and accumulate energy, cycle nutrients, and self-regulate with flexibility. 

In the big picture, the folks at Terre Vert are working to bring back the vegetation that holds the earth and water together in this vulnerable landscape. This is to counteract the attitude of taking from the land without putting anything back. When you bring cattle to a place one day and leave it the next, you're not replanting what the cows ate, and that bare soil is easily washed away, leaving behind the lower layers which lack organic matter and the capacity to hold water.

so the desert spreads.

So the ethos at Terre Verte is one of stewardship and the daily work is revegetation. Another strong component is one of outreach… Each year, Terre Verte helps folks from the villages set up productive fields and potager gardens with gifts of fences, labor, and advice. They also offer a special discount to people from the ten villages at their wonderful plant nursery- in french, la pépinière - in an effort to encourage, share, and dissipate this concept of le bocage. 

Daily watering sets the rhythm of work à la pépinière

Blandine shared her plant knowledge with me generously and patiently answered my ten thousand questions.
One of four full-time employees there, she and her daughter Brigitte spend their days in the nursery starting seeds.

AZN hosts a contest each year- the village family with the most productive bocage/Zai field wins a motorcycle. I think that's rad. I'd like to see more motorcycles in the sustainable food realm at home… that is an edge worth working. 

Training young people in sustainable food systems: Here we are vaccinating chickens against Newcastle disease.

Apart from that, there are a thousand little details I could share. Each day something impressed me that I wouldn't have thought of. For example, when digging a trench to plant a haie vive, you put the top layer of soil on one side and the deeper, less rich layer on the other. But instead of putting it back the way they found it- like any good double digger- you put the rich topsoil on the bottom, and mix compost into the more sparse soil to form an even richer soil for the top. Why didn't I think of that? Keep up the good work, y'all.

Baby baobabs à la pépinière.

Terre Verte Guié- Holistic Systems Overview

Greetings from the Land of Men of Integrity (pays des Hommes integres.) I'm here at a pilot farm called Terre Verte (green earth) in a beautiful village called Guié in Burkina Faso, West Africa. This place is pretty amazing. Over the past thirty years, the Sahel has seen systematically worsening conditions of drought and dryness. The the folks at Terre Verte cite bush fires, overgrazing, cutting too much wood, and “mining agriculture” as factors that encourage the encroaching desert and make the landscape increasingly vulnerable... which leads to drought, loss of biodiversity to extinction, and famine.

Trench to plant a  haie vive, living fence

Here at Terre Verte, the main focus is on ways to conserve water and sediment in the landscape, preventing the erosion that accelerates the processes of desertification. This is done largely through the installation of mad windbreak hedgerows, or Wégoubri in the local tongue here called Mooré, or Le Perimetre Bocage in French. Almost every building, pathway, and garden plot here is lined with a row of Cassia sieberiana. I was shocked by the volume of C. sieberiana starts in the nursery, it's really a large focus of Terre Verte's approach. The concept haie vivre- living hedge- comes from Europe and was brought by Henri Girard, who started the farm here, but it goes along with the practices that were in place here before the period of "mining agriculture" began.

So now you're picturing large fields, each surrounded by a living hedge. They also have large berms around the perimeter to protect against and control brush fires, which can be wildly destructive. At the lowest point in every field, theres a small pond to retain water and  berms built up around it a little wider with the extra earth.  During the rainy season, the hole fills up with water and floods up to the berms, forming a stock that's used for watering until it's all gone. 

Diagrams credited to AZN

Okay, so now picture a row of trees running down the midline of the field. This provides shade for families working in the fields, where children can play or rest while parents work, and also helps prevent erosion. These trees are also productive: including Karite (which we know as shea, a la shea butter) fig, mango, guava, Moringa (an excellent tree which I'll probably post about) and tons of others. 

So, that should leave two large open sunny area's in the picture in your mind's eye. These are the main productive areas and are cultivated using a method called Zai holes. About a foot in diameter and half a foot in depth, Zai holes concentrate fertility and aeration for planting. This is a traditional method here in Burkina and the word Zai is Mooré but the technique has been widely adapted throughout Africa because it works. Composted manure is added to the holes well in advance of the rainy season. Then after a good rain, you can plant- usually millet or sorghum and about 3 seeds per hole. 

100 hectares is about 247.1 acres. It's critical to be
able to implement these systems at this large scale.

That is essentially the system. Weeding is minimal because weeds only grow within the Zai holes…but it's important. When the millet is about calf-high, we bring in animals, who eat down the plants and then they come back more vigorous. The grains are the first year rotation, then the second year, it's des legumineuses: sesame, beans or peanuts to fix nitrogen. (I'd always wondered about sesame the plant, I only hear about the seed and the oil. Photo on the right is the dried seed pod from the plant. I thought it was beautiful.) After the nitrogen fixing round, the third year the field is left fallow to rest and regenerate. Fourth year, back to grains. It's important to leave behind the stalks once grains are harvested, these provide ground cover and organic material as they break down- which you can see in the photo below. With each year's rotation, you add composted manure -fumier- to the Zai holes- to replace the nutrients you took from the soil.  Then during the dry season, animals come through added more nutrients and eating what they can- which helps because food gets scarce during the time furthest from the rains.

Mady and I moving electric fence for cattle in a millet field during the dry season.