"When a man journeys into a far country, he must be prepared to forget many things he has learned, and to acquire such customs as are inherent with existence in the new land … For the courtesies of ordinary life, he must substitute unselfishness, forbearance, and tolerance. Thus, and only thus, can he gain that pearl of great price – true comradeship. He must not say 'thank you,' he must mean it without opening his mouth, and prove it by responding in kind. In short, he must substitute the deed for the word, the spirit for the letter." –Jack London
I couldn't find work. Or, more accurately, I couldn't find anyone that was the right combination of industrious and crazy to work with me. That's why I started my small demonstration plot. It was an attempt to prove my worth to the village and it was something to do. I didn't really have a clear strategy for my plot when I started because I hadn't really thought it through. I just started digging. I did what I was asking others to do: dig basins early to enable timely planting when the rains come in November.
Digging isn't easy. Especially when it hasn't rained a drop in 6 months and it's 90° at night. I started to understand why farmers generally treat October as a month of rest and why they weren't listening to the white guy telling them to dig early. Still, I kept digging. I did most of my work between 5 and 7 am to avoid the heat and to give myself the rest of the day to look for people that were the right combination of industrious and crazy.
When the rains came, I was ready and I planted maize. And I kept digging. A month later, I planted peanuts and soybeans. I stopped digging and I started weeding. Then I harvested 9 bags of maize, 2 bags of unshelled peanuts, 1 bag of shelled soybeans, and 1 bag of velvet beans – each bag is 50 kg. My plot was small – about ½ a football field – but my harvest wasn't.
Somewhere in between the digging and the harvesting, I found work. I had 9 people that were the right combination of industrious and crazy. I had my plot and their plots as demonstrations. I had bush-cred and I had the attention of farmers – most were industrious, but some were crazy.
That was all last year. This year I have work. I have 67 farmers employing the techniques that I demonstrated in my field in a total area greater than 100 football fields. I put a lot more time into training the audience that my field gave me. And instead of having farmers visit me at my field, I visit them at theirs to offer advice and encouragement. I am pleased by the results of my field.
There were plenty of reasons for me not to continue my field this year; I had work, I didn't need to prove my worth as an agriculturalist, I was busy with Peace Corps programs and Kilimanjaro, it's hard work, and I won't even be around to harvest it. But I didn't put much thought into any of that. I just started digging. I even coerced my visitors and my wife to help in the field this year.
It was a bigger undertaking this year than last. It's almost twice as big and everything is planted now; the maize, the soybeans, the peanuts and the velvet beans. This year, like last year, the field was partly about leading by example and partly about having something to do – not much else happens before 8 am. But I had work this year. I had farmers to meet with and to train and I had their attention and respect. Still, no one but my closest neighbors have seen my field or seen me working in it this year. This year my field isn't about that.
This year my field is about saying, "thank you." This year my field is about saying, "goodbye."
For the past two years I have been housed, fed and cared for by two of the most sincere, selfless, hard-working people I have ever met. My field is for them. When I go, the crops will be mature and almost ready for harvest. They don't need the food and they don't really need the money that selling it will give them. But for the past two years they have treated me like a son and my field will be a quiet and earnest 'thank you' from a son to his Zambian parents. It's a 'thank you' in a language they speak more fluently and more frequently than Bemba or English.
I would give them the world if I could, but for them, and for now, my field is enough.
