Growing greens in Kenya

The relationship between food, nutrition and health is what is missing in most of Kenya’s homes and even at the national level even when they talk of food security.

Helen Murangi, whose family farms 11 hectares near Kiringa in Kenya, grows all kinds of greens, and stresses their value for good nutrition and as a cash crop.

Murangiri farm has with time come to classify weeds into good weeds, that are now grown intentionally for food and human medicine and the other weeds from which the farm derives its pesticides and herbicides needs. In the class of ‘good weeds’ are such common plants as the Black jerk, Jute (mlenda in Swahili), or murere in Luhya, Kisii), ground nuts, Amaranths, Spider Plant (thangeti in Kikuyu, chiisaka in Luhya, a lot-dek in Luo, saget in Kalenjin), Pumpkin, Crotolaria, Solanum, the various Aloe specie among many others.

According to Helen, what she earns from her small portions of these good weeds combined earns her far more that what she gets from the 7 hecteres she had dedicated to mangos. Interestingly enough, every one in Murangiri’s home is converse with the value of everything that occupies their farm’s space and can explain in detail about each plant and crop—from the biological name, local name, its usefulness etc.

Lots more from the horse’s mouth, as it were, at Africa Science News Service.

Drink this

Coco.jpg

I apologise for the quality of this image, but there I was in the local supermarket with only a phone. It shows a shrink-wrapped, cut and trimmed drinking coconut, complete with a straw and instructions for how to make a hole and insert the straw. I was astounded. So astounded that I didn’t register any of the details, like how much these go for, where they are coming from or whether anyone was buying them. If there are any left next time I’ll try to find out. Or maybe this is old news to someone, either in coconut-growing or coconut-drinking country.

Frankincense and disharmonic energy fields

One of the more amazing travel experiences I had when I was working in the Middle East was to drive from Muscat through most of Oman to Salalah, the capital of the province of Dhofar, in the south of the country. You drive on and on for ten and more hours through desert, mile after mile of barren sand and rock. Then you go over a slight rise, and suddenly drop down an escarpment into a lush landscape of thickly forested slopes: the crescent-shaped mountains of Dhofar block the rain-laden clouds of the monsoon for months.

The leaward lip of that escarpment is the home of the frankincense tree, Boswellia sacra, the start of famous trade routes to the Mediterranean and India. And such pleasant recollections were prompted by an article in the NY Times on how frankincense “has the ability to generate this really powerful force field that has been shown to be able to neutralize and transmute what we call disharmonic energy fields.” Right. Let’s hope that New Yorkers’ demand for such force fields doesn’t lead to overexploitation.

Turfing out the lawn

Smaller American Lawns Today. Edible Estates. Freedom Lawns. Recent thinking about the American suburban lawn sounds like a microcosm of the debate about diversity and sustainability in agriculture in general. Read all about it in The New Yorker.

A few seeds held in a muddy hand

A review of The Oxford Book of Modern Science Writing by Richard Dawkins included a beautifully poetic rumination on agrobiodiversity:

The great Ice Age herds were destined to vanish. When they did so, another hand, like the hand that grasped the stone by the river long ago, would pluck a handful of grass seed and hold it contemplatively. In that moment, the golden towers of man, his turning wheels, the vast learning of his packed libraries would glimmer dimly there in the ancestor of wheat, a few seeds held in a muddy hand. Without the gift of flowers and the infinite diversity of their fruits, man and bird, if they had continued to exist at all, would be today unrecognizable. Archaeopteryx, the lizard-bird, might still be snapping at beetles on a sequoia limb; man might still be a nocturnal insectivore gnawing a roach in the dark. The weight of a petal has changed the face of the world and made it ours.

You can get the full thing online. It’s from How Flowers Changed the World by Loren Eiseley.