My spell in Kampala has come to an end. Time to travel back to the field.

basket of fried grasshoppers

A quick stop in the market to grab some fruit for the trip and I spy something interesting. Is that what I think it is? Yep! It’s a basket full of fried grasshoppers, minus the legs. Smells good. I think of all the grasshoppers living in my garden back at Abim. “

Hey mate, can I try one”, I say to the grinning merchant. He’s never seen a Muzungu eat a grasshopper before so he scoops up a handful and offers them to me. I toss a few into my mouth and start chewing. Mmm! Not bad, like roasted peanuts, kind of! Next time I get an infestation of grasshoppers, I’m going to look at it as a blessing. These would be nice in a stir-fry!

I’m on the road to Nuccappyrt, up near the Kenyan border. Huge trucks loaded with quartz rock are heading out of “Nuccas” as we call it, churning up the muddy road. The churned up mud has begun to dry into hard ruts, which make driving painful. Smash, smash crunch, crunch as the vehicle bottoms out on the huge holes and ruts. My spine is only saved by me hanging onto the roof handle and suspending my body.

Source: Steve Cran, Green Warrior Permaculture. Content is licensed under Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported

police quarters at Nuccas

I see out the window acres of lush corn crops, rice paddies, sesame seed, vegetables and cassava. The soil is black and beautiful. I see trucks laden with fresh produce heading out of Nuccas district. What’s going on here? How can they grow this much food and still be receiving aid? I hadn’t realized the potential of this land as I’d only been here in the dry season. For 8 months of the year this place is a food bowl. Something is fishy here!

guard escort

We pick up a military escort in Namalu. I have to strap on a bulletproof vest. It weighs a ton and restricts my breathing. The clouds are dark and I can hear the rumble of thunder. The soldiers climb onto the back of the pick-up truck and squat with their belt fed, general purpose, machine guns facing out. The have water proof ponchos on and they’re going to need it. We take off in convoy the soldiers leading. Small villages appear every few kilometers made of corrugated iron and mud. There is a market set up in each one. The people are ragged but healthy looking. Many of them wave and grin.

UN driver

We pass through a game reserve. Its open savannah with small mountains poking out of the plain. One mountain has huge caves in it, so big I could drive a ship through them. I visualize a safari lodge built into the caves. Wow, what a place. I make a mental note to come back and visit that place. My driver tells me I may need a gun as lions live near there.

It starts to rain, then pour. The soldiers are drenched but still remain vigilant. This is the most dangerous place in Uganda with the most amount of shootings and raids in the country. The pouring rain doubles in intensity. We can’t even see the bullbar. The radio crackles and the escort has stopped, so have we. I’ve only seen rain this bad once before in Aceh. We wait until the rain slows down enough for us to see. We begin to move again slowly. An instant flood has appeared on the sides of the road. We come to a section of flooded road where a virtual waterfall is eating away at the road. The escort radios that it’s too dangerous to cross. Maxi and I discuss the risk, we agree to cross anyway. We radio the escort and tell them we are crossing and to get out of the way.

They radio back and say they will cross if we are going to. We both ford the raging flood, as the road is slowly getting narrower from the erosion by the torrent of chocolate brown water. The water comes up to the door handle but we make it and begin the climb up the mountain into Nuccas. The rain has flattened the crops on both sides of the road and where the ground is freshly tilled the soil is washing away with the flood. We make it into Nuccas an hour later as the afternoon sun peeks through the clouds. A huge mountain range with strange shaped peaks looks down upon us as we enter the town.

mountains on the border of Kenya

I check into a filthy cement box room with a toilet with no water except a full gerry can for my shower. At least it’s got a mozzy net! The single bed looks dodgy but its better than a lot of people have in this place.

I drive to the office in the morning. A drunken woman is lying in a pothole at the hotels entrance. Another woman helps her up and out of the vehicles path. It’s 7 o’clock and the woman can’t walk. I wonder what she’s going to do for the rest of the day. Drunkenness is the only release for extremely poor people. Men and women alike drink a local brew they made from the sorghum that is given out as aid food.

A visitor is waiting for me, two visitors in fact. Major Benson and Lieutenant Edward from the military base across the road from the office. They are keen to help the local people grow food. Major Benson tells me his troops are disarming the Karamajong villages and need to help the people with a living to replace cattle raiding. Lieutenant Edwards job is helping the villages with agriculture. I give them a manual each and we discuss Green Warriors. The major asks me if his soldiers can become Green Warriors. I tell him anybody can be a Green Warrior. A new plan starts to form in my mind. We agree to meet up in a few weeks to discuss the options.

The military escort arrives. These guys have different weapons. We are headed to Ding Dinga, a border village 1 km from Kenya. Many raiders pass through this area from Kenya; steal cattle and race them back over the border. We strap on our weighty bulletproof vests. My driver asks me if the vest will really stop a bullet. I joke that it has a money-back guarantee, he doesn’t laugh.

The trip is rough as the roads are still on the truck route to the mine. We see some wild camels and a troop of baboons playing in the mud next to a swamp. They scream and bolt as we pass. The more guns people here have, the less wildlife. The baboons know the score!

In Ding Dinga we park just outside the community and remove our vests. We instruct the soldiers to stay put. We don’t want to frighten the villagers. Too late. When we walk into the village the young men have disappeared, only the women and some old guys are left.

Our Green Warrior is there digging a bore-pump garden with the women. He is pleased to see me, as his village is the most remote in our project. I skip the formalities, give the women a cheery grin and grab a hoe. They all start working faster when I join in. I show them how to shape the beds with a flat top to survive the heavy rains. They have an interesting smell, the smell of wild humans. These guys exist with no money. They eat no processed food, only wild meats and fruits. I like their smell. I wonder what I smell like to them because very soon I’m covered in sweat.

We have no common language, just digging and laughing. After a while I realize its 2pm and too hot to seriously work so we take a break under some shady trees. I seat them in a circle and get my Green Warrior to translate. I explain that they are good, smart people and its time to let go of aid and become self-sufficient. They clap and cheer. I also tell them the only physical sign of god on this earth is nature so when we work growing things we are working with god. (I’m a free thinker, not the religious type but missionaries have converted these people) They clap and cheer again. I give them some pest control pointers and its time to leave. The Green Warrior and I have a quick chat over at the vehicle.

He used to be the chief for 10 years until he retired. He asked me if I could get the army to lay off harrassing the project. The army has been searching the village for weapons and the male youth have all taken off. I tell him about the Major asking me if the army can have Green Warriors. He gets excited and says he could get the village to work with the army if they are genuine. I tell him I will talk to the major. We hug and its time to go.

Just out of the village we stop to pick up the escorts and put on the bulletproof vests. All the way back I’m thinking on other armies like the Thai army and the El Salvadorian army who assist the communities they are in with permaculture training. The communities begin to trust and rely on the army and the army gets solid intelligence and support from the community. It would work well here. The other thing is here the army and the police live so poorly themselves. It would be a multi-benefit activity.

Its time to return to Abim, the long way today. The military escorts cost the organization heaps so we have to go home out of the security zone which is an extra 400 kms on rough roads. I’m just about to leave when Major Benson calls me. He wants a lift the first 200 kms. No worries, if he’s in civilian clothes. We don’t want to be seen cosy with the army (even though we use their escorts!)

The major and I chat for the 4 hours on our journey about Green Warriors, army style. He tells me that in his village he is self reliant with a few acres of land and many diverse crops. If you are seen carrying food home in a plastic bag in his village it’s seen shameful because you can’t grow your own food! Yeah, I like this guy!

The plot thickens!

We dump the major off in Mbale after I give him instructions to google Jim Humble and MMS, the miracle mineral supplement, for curing AIDS. Yes, that’s right cure AIDS. The army looses many soldiers each year to HIV/AIDS, not to mention friends and relatives. One must be very careful about giving out the cure for AIDS.

We head for Soriti. It’s getting late afternoon. In Soriti we pick up Catherine, our admin support person for Green Warriors. She’s had malaria but is ready for work now. The long way to Abim is getting longer and darker. It is forbidden to drive through the zone at night but the flooding has cut a few roads. The driver is exhausted and nodding off. I take over. I whack the ute in 4-wheel drive so I get better traction at speed.

We are diverted several times because a huge flood has sliced away the roads. At 9 pm we have been on the road for 12 hours and everyone is sore from the constant jarring on rough terrain. The headlights only pick up the rim of a hole and I can’t gauge the depth. One hole I hit sends us airborne and my head bashes into the roof . Another head wound! We keep going on this seemingly endless trip until we get to a flooded river.

There are vehicles parked on both sides but a small truck exits the water with 15 villagers pushing it. A villager comes to the window and tells us his group will push us. There’s a bridge with the water flowing a meter over it and 2 large holes either sides. My passenger’s recon it’s too dangerous. I see a guy wading up to his armpits across the river. If you can walk, you can drive! I give them the option of staying on the riverbank the night but I’m rooted and want to get home. My gut says its ok. The passengers think it through and see outside it’s raining.

They’re coming with me. We drive slowly into the river with all the windows open and no seatbelts on in case we have to swim for it. The danger is extra swells coming down the river when we are in a deep point. The water is up to the door handles when we drop into a deep hole. The bonnet disappears but we have a snorkel and the engine drives us onwards to the far bank. As we pop out the other side the villagers who have been pretending to push us all cheer. I give them $5 which is the standard fee and just enough to get a jerry can full of brew. We make it home a couple of hours later. My body is sore for 2 days after from the trip.

Next week is Green Warrior nursery training week. I hope the warriors can make it to Abim across this flood-ravaged land…

Source: Steve Cran, Green Warrior Permaculture. Content is licensed under Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported