Quinton Sankofa explains how Mandela Marketplace, West Oakland accepted the community call for ownership of problem and solutions
Sustainable Self-Governance – Fri 25th, 3.30-5.30 pm USSF2010 – Detroit – Wayne County Community College http://permaculture.coop/ussf2010
planting justice
mandela food, mandela marketplace
http://permaculture.coop/ussf2010
Permaculture and the great renewal…
This is not a dooms day post about the world ending at all but rather a post about our many evolutions, the great power of synergy, and esspecially of compassion. 2012 is not only about a great astrological alignment as perdicted by the mayan calender not seen for over 25,000 years in which our solar system will be in line with the exact meridian and center of the Milky Way Galaxy, but also a alignment of human beings with a new positive intention for the planet. In my mind is a vision of huge numbers of people working harmoniously together and cooperating as a united but diverse global force for good. This is just so much doom out there about 2012 it is hard find anything reliable unless you know what your looking at. I like this animated video below because it’s easy to understand and very nicely gives you the idea. It is up to each of us to create as much interconnective sharing as possible as creative enegry sparks a new conciousness emerging all over the world. Digital media and mobile technology are making this even easier to facilitate, but most importantly, we have to connect with our hearts to our work and those we work with and love. Please comment if this video ressonates with you or anyone you know in anyway or if you just think it’s hippy dippy b.s. I would still want to know …..Gaia punks unite!
Source: Punk Rock Permaculture
Trusting ourselves, our world and the organisation of the universe
Alan Wilson Watts (January 6, 1915 – November 16, 1973) was a British philosopher, writer, and speaker, best known as an interpreter and popularizer of Eastern philosophy for a Western audience.
He wrote more than 25 books and numerous articles on subjects such as personal identity, the true nature of reality, higher consciousness, meaning of life, concepts and images of God and the non-material pursuit of happiness. In his books he relates his experience to scientific knowledge and to the teachings of Eastern and Western religion, spirituality and philosophy.
space undefined
Alan Watts
zen
UPDATE: We have created a project group on our Permaculture GROUPS free cooperative Mycological Response Teams group, along with start-up projects and tasks and documents and members. Please consider joining by Nicholas Roberts, Permaculture Cooperative
The Pertroleum Problem - Paul Stamets
I (Paul Stamets) proposed in 1994 that we have Mycological Response Teams (MRTs) in place to react to catastrophic events, from hurricanes to oil spills. by The Petroleum Problem: Paul Stamets
Paul Stamets of Fungi Perfecti, author Mycelium Running writes a response to the BP oil volcano in the Gulf , via Toby Hemenway author of Gaia’s Garden
Full Text: The Petroleum Problem – Paul Stamets (Copyright 2010)
The BP oil spill has inflicted enormous harm in the Gulf of Mexico and will continue to do so for months, if not decades, to come. I have many thoughts on this disaster. My first reaction is that when the skin of the Earth is punctured, bad things can happen.
Clearly, this disaster could and should have been prevented. Despite all their assurances of safety, BP and/or BP’s subcontractors, failed to ensure the functionality of the emergency equipment on the Deep Horizon rig. The oil industry claims that further regulation will handcuff them, but it is now obvious that more steps need to be taken to prevent a catastrophe like this from ever happening again.
How can we help?
Knowing that the extent of this disaster eclipses our mycological resources should not be a reason to not act.I proposed in 1994 that we have Mycological Response Teams (MRTs) in place to react to catastrophic events, from hurricanes to oil spills. We need to preposition composting and mycoremediation centers adjacent to population centers. We should set MRTs into motion, centralized in communities, which are actively involved in recycling, composting and permaculture—utilizing debris from natural or man-made calamities to generate enzymes and rebuild healthy local soils.
I see the urgent need to set up webinar-like, Internet-based modules of education to disseminate methods for mycoremediation training so people throughout the world can benefit from the knowledge we have gained through the past decade of research. Such hubs of learning could cross-educate others and build a body of knowledge that would be further perfected over time, benefiting from the successes and failures of those in different bioregions. The cumulative knowledge gained from a centralized data hub could emerge as a robust yet flexible platform that could help generations to come. Scientists, policy makers, and citizens would be empowered with practical mycoremediation tools for addressing environmental disasters.
Full Text: The Petroleum Problem – Paul Stamets (Copyright Paul Stamets 2010)
Image Source: Happy Healthy Balance
1. Paul Stamets on the Oil Spill (Toby Hemenway)
We just spent a wonderful week with Paul Stamets at his place in the Gulf Islands, and while we were there, the BP Crisis Management Team called to get his advice. In a way, that’s pretty encouraging. People here were wondering what Paul’s got to say about the mess, and after the call he put together a position paper on the spill and mycoremediation. It’s at
http://www.fungi.com/mycotech/petroleum_problem.html
Paul asks that this link go to anyone who can help.
Toby
http://patternliteracy.comhey Toby,
thanks for this…
great resource, couple of questions, observations, dont really expect you to have all the answers, though I think its worth putting it out there1. I wonder how we could actually use this information to develop a gaia permaculture response ?
2. how do we organise networks and teams of permaculture activists to use this knowledge on the ground/in-the-water now?
3. can we develop a faster and tighter network of expertise, i.e. the spill was weeks ago, could we make responses faster from experts such as Stamets and youself ? could we develop a network of experts to respond and anticipate such disasters, events etc and feed this organic geo-engineering into the policy mix, the activist strategies and techniques ?
4. could we develop a media team that makes video, education, howtos, implementation kits for such events as the spill ? could we set-up a fund-raising team to buy the spore, the medium, distribute and train activists in the field, measure results ?
5. did you discuss genetically engineered fungi, microbes etc ? are any on that list ?cheers
-N
Source: Email exchange on the Permaculture Ibiblio email list
Permaculture with a Mycological Twist, The Stametsian Model for a Synergistic Mycosphere
Reprinted from Growing Gourmet and Medicinal Mushrooms by Paul Stamets, ©1994, all rights reserved.
Click here to for an interactive diagram outlining the application of fungi in permaculture.
Permaculture is a concept pioneered by Australian Bill Mollison and literally means “permanent agriculture”. His model of biological diversity and complementary agricultural practices promotes a sustainable environment via the interplay of natural ecosystems. Permaculture has gained a huge international following with the publication of his book Permaculture: A Practical Guide for a Sustainable Future. Permaculture has become the mainstay philosophy of the organic movement. Mollison’s vision, which borrows from Masanobu Fukuoka’s “One Straw Revolution”, intelligently combines the factors of site location, recycling of by-products from farming and forest activities, species diversity and biological succession.
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, Global Sustainability Corps. Content created by Steve Cran and Global Sustainability Corps 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, Global Sustainability Corps. Content created by Steve Cran and Global Sustainability Corps is licensed under Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported
In August 2006 David Holmgren was joined by Richard Heinberg, leading environmental educator from California, on a public speaking tour of Australian capital cities explaining the truth and opportunities from the coming end of cheap energy.
Source: Permaculture Principles
Detailed notes on he permaculture concept in the video In Grave Danger of Falling Food by Bill Mollison, from Green Change, Australia
notes continue Green Change
Source: Green Change
Steve Cran gives NGO stakeholders a field briefing on the village zone permaculture design strategy.
“My system of the “5 rings of sustainability” is adapted from permaculture for community development. From tribal people to aid officials this system makes sense. In each ring we know many “best practices” that will improve that community or household. The rings are interconnected.”
Steve Cran
Village Zone Design Strategy – Extreme Permaculture Food Security in Uganda with Steve Cran from Permaculture Cooperative on Vimeo.
In the new village garden, set-up by Steve on his arrival, he draws in the dirt, with a stick, the basic 5 zone permaculture strategy. He explains how the basic unit of food security is the home food and medicinal garden, and how this expands out through the village to the hunting lands, with the outermost zone being the “eco-zone” for regeneration and wildlife.
For more on Extreme Permaculture: Steve Cran first blog on arrival in Uganda, Warrior Permaculture, Everything is Growing
Steve also gives advice: Going into Haiti ? Earthquakes, Tsunami, War – Extreme Permaculture Veteran Steve Cran on Haiti, Uganda, Aceh, Australia and Timor
It’s my third week in Uganda’s Karamoja province. It feels like I’ve been here for years.
We load the pick-up truck with tools. There’s a village 5 km north of town. The name of the village is too hard to pronounce for a Mazungu like me so I call it “the 5 kilometer village”. We load steel shovels, hoe rakes, steel digging bars, large sacks for hauling dry manure, and the African hoes.
The women’s group at this village have promised to build a fence for their vege garden. I don’t expect much because I know they don’t have any tools. If they make an effort I’m going to help them.
We arrive and they are waiting under a shady tree beside the road. Its hot and a fierce winds blinds us with dust as we get out of the ute. The mountain behind is on fire. The wind is fanning the flames to amazing heights. The fire eats he vegetation off the mountain like a hungry monster.
The women clap and cheer when I shake hands with the chief. He’s the only man in the group of 30. He has a list of everybody’s name. He’s done this before. The charities have trained him well. I tell him I don’t want names just a garden. He smiles and translates this to the group. I drop the tailgate and pass the tools to Santos and Ram my trainees.
The women go nuts. They whoop and make a lee lee lee lee noise between their teeth. The enthusiasm is genuine. I’m a bit embarrassed.
They take me over to where they have cleared an area for the fence. The shrubs have been chopped down and piled up at one end. We mark out an area for the first garden with a shady tree at one end. I visualize the tree as the meeting point for the garden crew. Lots of kids sneak up all around. Some are brave and touch the blonde hair on my arm and run away. I spin around and growl as they shriek and evaporate. Everybody laughs when they realize I’m not going to eat the children.
This is one of my pilot projects to test my designs for the manual. The women ask about seed. There are 40 kg of non hybrid seed at HQ. You get the seed when the garden is dug, I tell them. They begin to sing this time. I wonder why after 40 years of aid somebody hasn’t taken the time to cover the basics. water and food. Grow your own is better than American GM flour off the back of a truck! I tell the women no more cheering until the garden is dug and the fences are up.
We head to the prison in Moroto with the first sample of seeds. This time we get invited in to the inner prison. As the guard closes the heavy doors as we enter I feel a little apprehensive. Inside the prisoners are playing volleyball. Whew!
The governor ushers us in to his office. We make a deal. The garden project will grow all the new crops, and some for seed. Our crew will consist of several Karamajong rival tribes all mixed up. Traditional enemies will be working together.
The Guv, as I call him, shows us around. He takes us to a patch of open ground where he wants the project to start. The soil is heavy dark clay. It needs a fence. The water pump is nearby. Yep it’ll work. The Guv’s happy and the head warden looks on with a big grin. We have to go. Lots to do.
We visit a farm run by ex-warriors. Its way out in the middle of the bush. The leader speaks english. He sees the permaculture designers manual in the back of the landcruiser. I show him the mandala design. He gets excited. We need training, not handouts he says.A deal is made. We’ll train his mob if he trains warriors in the future. He offers us land for a field school. I tell him we’ll be back in 10 days with tools. He’ll have the leaders ready for a training session. I give him some seeds. Very happy guy.
On the return trip I decide to take the dangerous short cut. The security dudes warn us against it. My gut says go. We go. We drive like rally drivers. Nice road most of the way. The four of us are tense. No warriors. We make it no worries. Next day we find out warriors ambushed the safe road where we were supposed to go. One motorcyclist killed, a truck shot up and occupants kidnapped. My guys say lucky we listened to our gut! The gut is smarter than the security guys.
My garden is taking shape back at HQ. Many villagers watch its progress through the bamboo fence. Every demonstration is a teacher. The kids watering the garden each day are proud now the seeds have sprouted. They talk to the other kids through the fence as they water. They are junior trainers whether they know it or not. Everything is growing…Thank God!
Source: Steve Cran, Ugana
Hello again from Northern Uganda. A lot has happened since my last blog and its hard to believe its been just over a week.
Im driving the ute at speed through the bush. There’s 4 of us in the cab. Its getting dark and we’re late. We should have been in camp hours ago. We were delayed by a series of comical events but now it’s not so funny. The guys with me start telling local horror stories. “If the warriors catch you you will surely perish” one guy says. The other guy adds “This is the area they operate.” I press harder on the accelerator! We make it home without incident.
It’s easy to get complacent about security because the people seem so friendly and always give me a wave.
The Karamojong have a fearsome reputation. They are cattle people.
They love cattle because it is a symbol of wealth, prestige and they cant get a wife unless they have at least 200 head. A “Kjong” as they’re nicknamed can give a description of a particular cow to another Kjong who can walk 100 kilometers and pick that exact cow out of a herd of a few thousand.
They live and breath cattle. Each Kjong male has a cow whacking stick and a small wooden seat which he carries everywhere. The guys and the girls have the same haircut and both wear a king of striped robe. The women wear a neck full of colored beads and the guys wear a colorful top hat and earrings, sometimes with colored feathers.
The youth are bored. They stand for hours watching their cattle, or somebody else’s cattle. Their life is worth nothing until they have cattle. Where do you get cattle from if you want a wife? You get an AK47 and go on an organized raid and steel them from “the enemy”. There’s nothing to lose except a dull life. They even take on the army, a thousand young warriors itching to get free cattle.
One of my roles here is to come up with a solution to the “warriors”.
I go to a Manyatta, a stick fort surrounding a few huts. This is were the women live permanently while the warriors roam the land looking for fodder and water with their prize cattle.
They’ve built the manyattas for defense high on the slope of the valley but away from water. The land is drying up from over grazing, charcoal making, fence building and drying winds. The soil is starting to blow away. The women have to carry water a kilometer from the hand pump in the valley. I crawl through the entrance on my hands and knees. No fat people allowed! they wouldn’t fit.
There’s a narrow hallway of sticks and another crawl hole. Very clever for defence. Any intruder would be very vulnerable to attack. I make it through the maze to the cooking hut. I swallow hard. These people are starving. This place reeks of extreme poverty. There’s no maize in the granary. The kids are slow and have distended bellies (worms).
An old woman is sitting on a dirty cow hide. I shake her rough hand. Her skin is dusty and looks like leather. I smell rotting flesh. On a stick rack next to me are 2 giant bush rats , each the size of a corgi. They have been gutted and are covered in blue assed flies. They have been dead a while.
My translator Catherine wrinkles her nose and I point to the carcasses. “You hungry?” I ask. She moves away rapidly. We get the hell out of there and make our way to the vehicle down in the valley. How can I help these people? Their village is too far from water. They want to grow food but they can barely carry the water they need for survival.
The bore pump in the valley has a strong hand pump sticking out of a cement circle. The girls place the gerry can under the spout and jump up and down holding the handle. A group of thirsty cows jostle each other to get at the flow. One cows tounge snakes out and slurps at the water going into the gerry. Slap! A girl whacks the cow on the face. It doesnt care. There’s a puddle below the cement ring with cow shit, flies and mud all squashed up into a foul soup.
I see a design in my head. Animal trough at the outflow. Steel pickets with barbed wire surrounding a community vegetable garden with a lockable steel gate. I see the outflow from the trough running into the garden and fruit trees with heavy duty guards planted around the garden. OK I’ll try that. Saves the women from carrying more water.Im in Moroto. It has paved roads! Ugandas third highest mountain looms over the dusty town. I see a prison. My driver says there is a farm in there. “Can we go in?” I ask. I thinking of a story I read about Idi Amin’s prison system where inmates were given sledgehammers to execute each other. The driver nods and we turn in.
A guard is sitting under a tree. Lazily he puts the barrel of his rifle in the dirt and pushes himself to his feet. He calls over a tall guy who takes us on a tour. The prisoners are dressed in yellow shorts and tee shirts. They look like a soccer team.
Their gardens are pathetic. Only four varieties of hybrids. The same story everywhere. No diversity. I see these squalid huts and feel sorry for the prisoners. “that’s where the wardens live” says my guide. Oh dear! I meet the head warden. I tell him what I want.
I want to improve their gardens in exchange for them becoming a seed bank. He agrees.
Most of the 90 men prisoners and Kjong warriors caught in the field. I want to work with them so I can understand their culture. I cant find them in the bush and its too dangerous to look. Here they are a captive audience.
I can train them and expand the non-hybrid open polinated seeds I am collecting. The prisoners can make a business of it. The warden is overjoyed. He takes me to meet the governor who gives me the thumbs up.
I’ve always wanted to make a permaculture prison and now its in my lap. The inmates smile and laugh when my translator “Ram” (short for Ramadan) tells them what the Mazoonga will do.
Im driving all over Karamoja looking for strategies that are working so I can put them in the manual I’m writing. Sometimes I have a military escort which is a ute with 4 armed soldiers hanging off the back. I’m slowly coming up with a plan.
These cattle are killing this place. I hear of a farm where ex-warriors are growing casava and loving it. I’m headed there next week.
My garden at the compound is growing. An 11 year old boy “Achilla” who I call Atilla waters it for me. He’s going to be a doctor when he grows up. This place is growing on me.
Source: Steve Cran, Uganda
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