Iraqi agricultural atlas ready for prime time

Nice to see the first National Atlas of Food and Development launched in Iraq, courtesy of the Ministry of Agriculture and ICARDA. You can find it here. You can map various agricultural and development indicators (although some of them don’t seem to work), including harvested area and yield of a number of crops. Here’s barley yield:

barley iraq

You can export the map as an image (as above) or as a URL, which is good but insufficient. Because one would like to mash it up with other datasets, like for example germplasm holdings, right? You know what’s coming next, and here it is, the locations of Iraqi barley material in Genesys:

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And yeah, I know, it takes two to tango, and it’s not exactly easy to share that Genesys data either, less easy than sharing the Iraqi atlas map if we are honest. We’re working on that…

But in the meantime, my colleague Matija and I spent the best part of a day hacking both tools and were eventually able to import image files from the Iraqi atlas and from Genesys into Google Earth. It’s not perfect, not even close, but here’s our first attempt at mashing up barley yield in Iraq (the pinkish squares) with the location of germplasm samples from that country in the world’s genebanks (in yellow).

iraqi barley composite

So, possibly some areas where further collecting might be warranted, conditions permitting. But is there an issue with the barley data in the atlas? You see that horizontal line right in the middle of the image, where barley apparently abruptly disappears south of latitude 33.5°N? That looks a bit suspicious, especially as the Genesys data seems to suggest that barley cultivation extends southwards along the Euphrates.

Game of Strawberries

A tarty Targaryen Sigil.
A tarty Targaryen Sigil.
If you imagined that the world of strawberry breeding must be a tranquil, placid backwater, as sleepy as the Shire at midsummer, think again. It’s more like Westeros on a bad day. A news article on UC Davis’ website sets out the casus belli. Here are the main points. Imagine a deeply sonorous baritone reciting them in voice over, or maybe an opening crawl, like at the start of Star Wars. “UC Davis’ successes in strawberry research are legendary.” 1 In large part, this is due to their breeding program. There is in California a body called the Strawberry Commission. It’s a growers’ association which funds research, including the UC Davis breeding programme, from a levy. They have come to think that UC Davis wants to shut down the breeding programme. That’s enough for lawyers to be unleashed, like direwolves who have been on the Mediterranean diet for far too long.

As one generation of campus strawberry breeders prepares to pass the torch to another, the commission in October filed a lawsuit against the university, expressing concern that the campus would end its breeding program.

UC Davis’ reply was as loud and clear as a dragon crying out for its Mother:

“UC Davis is committed to a long-term, positive relationship with the Strawberry Commission, for the benefit of California strawberry growers and the public,“ said Helene Dillard, dean of the College of Agricultural and Environmental Sciences. “We are eager to resolve the legal issues and move on to address the many challenges facing the strawberry industry.”

She noted that the college has begun the recruitment process for a new breeder and plant geneticist to join the strawberry program.

To further demonstrate its commitment to maintaining a strong, secure breeding program, the college has made sure that it has two copies of the strawberry plant collection — one for use by the breeders and one to serve as a backup. Each contains patented varieties, advanced selection lines, breeding stock and historical plants.

So is it all a big misunderstanding? Time to return Oathkeeper to its scabbard? Well, there may be a bit more to it than UC Davis allows in its news article. This from an article in The Packer (tag line: Everything Produce) back in January:

The lawsuit alleges that UC-Davis breached its contract with the commission. Among the allegations, the commission says growers are no longer receiving strawberry germplasm specifically developed for them.

The commission wants a judge to stop UC-Davis from allowing two scientists to control and profit from research and cultivars commission members paid for already.

The two scientists have been working on strawberries since the commission’s formal arrangement with the school began in 1980. They are not named as defendants in the case.

According to the commission’s complaint, in early 2012 researchers Doug Shaw and Kirk Larson announced intentions to resign and take the germplasm and research to establish a private company to research and breed strawberries. The university then notified the strawberry commission it planned to terminate the breeding and research program and said it will no longer sell new strawberry varieties to the growers, according to the civil lawsuit.

So it may not be so much about the commitment of UC Davis to the breeding programme, as about the nature of control over its products. We hope the court proceedings — should it go that far — won’t turn into a Red Wedding.

Getting down with Gadam sorghum

Kirinyaga County government will this week start distributing free Gadam sorghum seeds to residents of South Ngariama settlement scheme as way of fighting poverty in the area. The exercise which will see the residents receive 2,000 kg of the free seeds is expected to be flagged off by Governor Joseph Ndathi.

Interesting enough, but a month-old Kenya News Agency press release about the distribution of some sorghum seed, even free sorghum seed, wouldn’t normally exercise me unduly. Except, that is, when the above is followed by this:

The Gadam sorghum is best suited for industrial production of beer and farmers are expected to rake thousands of shillings from sale of the produce which will be marketed to the Kenya Breweries Limited (KBL).

Ah, well, now you’re talking. I did know that sorghum is increasingly being used in beer brewing in Kenya, but I didn’t realise that there was a specific variety involved, I thought any old sorghum, including landraces, would do. You can get extension leaflets on Gaudam, such as this:

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Which is just as well, because there are clearly some problems with it, as well as undoubted advantages, in particular earliness. The value chain for sorghum beer in Kenya has been well documented, and from that study comes this admittedly sketchy description of the Gadam variety and its history:

Sorghum beer is made from Gadam, a semi-dwarf sorghum variety with specific market traits, including white colour, low tannin and a high starch content. Originating in Sudan, Gadam was officially introduced in Kenya as a food crop in 1972 but then re-launched as an industrial crop in eastern Kenya in 2004. The KARI Seed Unit, located at Katumani, was established to grow and market seed of open-pollinated varieties (OPVs) that were unprofitable for private seed companies. It is the biggest producer of sorghum seed in Kenya. The Seed Unit sub-contracts seed production to 3000 growers who are advanced seed and repay in kind after harvest. The minimum acreage for a contract farmer is five acres. The Seed Unit buys whatever quantity farmers want to sell, provided it passes seed inspection by KEPHIS. Sales are made to large buyers but not to stockists because of risk of adulteration

Gadam is widespread and common enough to have been included as a sort of control in a recent survey of sorghum diversity in Kenya, which includes this passage:

In contrast to the case of some landraces, improved varieties were uniformly distributed and their frequencies did not differ between ethnic groups. The recently introduced Gadam variety was genetically distinct from the landraces and showed limited introgression from the other genetic clusters. It was genetically uniform and complied with certified control. However, farmers also gave the names of local and already known variety to individuals that have the same genetic profile as Gadam, an improved variety. This can be explained by a morphological similarity. Yet it raises the question of the consequences this will have for the on-farm evolution of the improved variety. Kaguru, for instance, which was introduced in the area 10–15 years ago, seems to have evolved differently across ethnic groups.

So Gadam‘s genetic future is uncertain. It may well change significantly, and in different ways in different places, and that will be interesting to follow, though those brewers may perhaps object. But what about its past? Can we trace Gadam back in time to its source? Unfortunately, I was not able to find anything online about its pedigree or breeding history, beyond hints at the involvement of ICRISAT, and vague references to an ultimate origin in Sudan. I’ll have to ask some sorghum experts, I suppose. Or look harder. However, my searches did produce one lead. There are 5 entries in GRIN that feature the word Gadam, including two from Sudan, a 1945 introduction called Gadam El Haman, PI152664, and a much later introduction called Gadam El Hamam, PI571389.

Note the slight difference in the last word of the name — hamaN versus hamaM. I think the first version may perhaps be a typo. I can’t find an Arabic word that can plausibly be transliterated as hamaN; hamaM, on the other hand, may mean “bath,” or perhaps “dove.” Gadam is even trickier, because that initial G could equally be a ق (leading to the noun “foot”, or possibly to a verb which may mean “to present”), or a خ (leading to the verb “to serve”). Bringing my mighty Arabic resources to bear on the problem, I conclude that the full name could well be translated as “footbath.” Or perhaps “serving the dove.” The perils of a little knowledge. Whichever it is (and I can’t for the life of me think why a sorghum variety should be called either), I’m no closer to knowing whether either, or neither, of those PI numbers is the ultimate source of Kenya’s Gadam, tout court. But I’m going there next week. Maybe I’ll ask around. If I find anything, I’ll let you know. And have a sorghum beer in celebration.

Micronesian memories

Jonathan Gourlay’s wonderful dissection of his predictably disastrous experience as an outsider running a shop in Micronesia, One Small Store, struck a chord for a number of reasons. First, the great writing. Here’s a sample, chosen from many possibilities:

In Kitti, giant flat basalt stones are still lined up in two rows of three in the center of the feast house, each clanging with its own tone as shirtless men pound stone on stone, mashing up the thick, strong kava (called sakau) for the feast. The musical clacking and clanging of stones begins chaotically and then, as the kava turns gray and viscous, coalesces into one rhythmic song, calling the gods and people to the feast house. You can still join this song. You sit and mash the sakau root with the other sakau pounders around the ancient rock. But you cannot lead the song of the stones. The song just happens, as it has for centuries, when it happens. And when it is complete, you can still drink the sakau. If the sakau is strong, you become the stillest thing in the universe. An observer of life from outside of life. Everything, the ocean, the mango and mangrove trees, the barking dogs, the sweep of time, seems abstract and small because you also feel abstract and small. And perhaps there is a foreigner, a mehn wai, in this group of sakau drinkers. A teacher or a lawyer, someone useful but ultimately unimportant. They are welcome to stay and welcome to leave. What has remained, for hundreds of years, is the clang of the rocks. What has remained, through waves of sailors, missionaries, and invading armies, is the calm of the sakau root sinking into the drinkers, whether they bear a centuries-old title like soum or soulik or souwel or the simple title of mehn wai. They sneak into the ceremony, these interlopers, and they always sneak away again, one way or another.

Then there are the numerous references to the biodiversity of Pohnpei, including of the agricultural kind — such an important part of island life. Kava, as in the extract above, for sure; but also, say, sea cucumbers and betel nut. 2 And, as well, the evocation of how the traditional foods and way of life this biodiversity represents and underpins are being eroded by “things like spam, corned beef, …rice, and something called ‘coco’—a mixture of unripe mango, sugar-free Kool-Aid, and soy sauce.” It all brought back memories of my own time in the region; although thankfully it was not as challenging as Mr Gourlay’s, I think I know how he feels.

banana storeAnd among those memories are many — both happy and painful — of my friend the late Lois Englberger, who worked so hard for the health and nutrition of the people of Pohnpei. For all I know, it was in Mr Gourlay’s very shop that I took this photo, when I visited the island back in 2004. You’ll have to click on it to see it properly, but it’s an example of Lois’ efforts to communicate the evidence that people on the island could improve their nutrition and well being by going back to eating Pohnpei’s unfortunately neglected — and disappearing — orange bananas (and other crop varieties high in Vitamin A precursors, for that matter). That’s ten years ago. Wow. Let me leave you with Lois’ photo of one of the billboards spreading her message on the island, and which Mr Gourlay would, I suspect, find amusing now, if he didn’t then.

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Resilience of indicators of resilience being discussed

The Third International Science and Policy Conference on the Resilience of Social & Ecological Systems is taking place in Montpellier, France. And yes, there’s a hashtag, settle down. Agricultural biodiversity features, thankfully, not least in the indicators of resilience (here’s the presentation). This just in: