It's Spoiled

Well, I just completed a whirlwind trip of the Wenchi Cashew Farmers Association zones. The Assoc. is made up of 7 Zones; farmers that live in villages around Wenchi. The zones have anywhere from 100-1,000 farmers. Though as a crow flies, the zones are not too far away, it can take up to 2 hours to get to these places. “Wayne”, you say, “what is the big deal? Two hours is nothing, heck we travel two hours to the Fryeburg Fair! Don’t be such a wimp.” True, two hours is not that big of deal if you are driving on paved roads, in a comfy car drinking your damn Starbucks and listening to Take it Easy on your Ipod while the cool breeze from your #@%* air conditioner gently caresses your body. Well, my friends, Ghana travel is NOT like that, “Attall”. (Attall, pronounced at all, but said together with a really long L at the end; it’s a Ghanian phrase.)
The “roads” to get to some of these villages are more like one lane bike paths. Most are washed out with deep channels in the middle. They are very windy (not windy as in blowing, but windy as in curvy. Not curvy like Marilyn Monroe, but curvy like the Kancumangus Highway) and the vegetation on each side is higher than the top of the truck, so you never know if there is anyone coming from the other direction. As a safety precaution, the driver will honk his horn, hoping that if there is any oncoming traffic, they will hear the horn and pull over. Of course we would never pull over, we just keep barreling through the jungle, so I don’t know why they would think the other vehicle would yield. You learn how to pray in earnest, as you are being tossed to and fro, like a carnival ride at the Fryeburg Fair, hoping that the Lord will hear and keep you safe. The other reason they blow their horn is to alert the pedestrians that are walking home. Most people don’t own vehicles, so they walk to the market, or to fetch water or to gather fire wood. So, as we round the corner, we see people scattering in all directions trying to get out of the path of this metal bucking, broncing bull heading towards them. I feel bad for these folks, most of the time they are carrying a heavy load on their heads. They have gigantic metal mixing bowls, that can easily hold 5 gallons of water, on their heads, walking back from the stream, or, if they are under 10 years old, they might only have a 3 gallon bucket on their head. Or, they might have a bundle of fire wood on their heads. I used to think it was quite impressive of me to carry a big arm load of cut and split wood, but I am put to shame with what they can carry. Some of the branches are a foot in diameter, and over 10 feet long. They could have up to 10 branches in a bundle strapped together with vines. Of course there is no breakdown lane or anything for them to escape to. They huddle against the vegetation as we speed by. Unfortunately there are times where there is a big puddle of water next to them, and as we splash through they shriek in anger and frustration at us; the driver yells out his window “Sorry-O!!” and waves as we roll on.
So late on Sunday night I get a call from the chairman of the assoc. saying that the folks from Fair Trade are in town and are planning to do some training on farming issues and want me to come along. Sure, I say, I can introduce myself to all the zones and talk about the importance of being a unified group. Plus it was a free ride in a Land Rover, rather than taking tro’s like I was originally planning on doing. We planned to meet at the office at 8:30 and would organize the trip. I admit, I was late when I arrived at the office on Monday, I got there at 8:33. At 9:15, they pulled in. We got the week planned, called all the leaders of the zones to let them know when we where coming, and to make sure the farmers would be there. Our schedule for Monday was to meet with some farmers in Wenchi at 11:00, then have lunch at 1:00 with another meeting in Wenchi at 3:00. I was excited for this was my first busy week, meetings everyday, and actually having a schedule of sorts.
We needed to stop by an office supply store to print off some documents for the farmers. So, we headed out to to store at 11:10 ( yes, our first meeting was at 11:00; get used to it). We walked into the store and asked if we could get a document from our flash drive so that we could make a bunch of copies. “No,” they say, “the computer is spoiled.” Spoiled in Ghana means that it no longer works, and sometimes they don’t know how to fix it so it can remain spoiled for some time. Cars can be spoiled, a camera, and the internet is almost always spoiled. They say the nearest place to get access to the documents on the flash drive is in Techiman. So, instead of thinking of another place in town, we hop in the Land Rover and make the 45 minute trek to Techiman. We walked into the store to find, yes, you guessed it, that their machine is spoiled as well. By now, I am not surprised at this... ATTALLL!!! I suggest that we go to the internet cafe that I use to see if we can use one of their machines. To my amazement, they are in fact open and, the machines are not spoiled! The catch, (there is always a catch) is that there is a line of 10 people in front of us. We leave one person behind to wait in line, while we go sit in the vehicle. It’s high noon, the 90 plus heat of the day bakes us into sweaty hot lumps. Two hours later, he comes out with the copy of the document needed to be copied. We go back to to Wenchi, eat lunch and arrive to the 3:00 meeting on time. Well, we are on time, but the farmers start strolling in around 4:00 and we finally get the meeting started by 4:30. It’s Ghana time, I sloooowly getting used to it.
During the meeting there is a fierce rain shower that brings in cool clean air. I love the rainy season. What I don’t like about the rainy season is the walking conditions afterwards. In town, the ground is a very hard packed red almost clay like dirt. On the top of that is a fine layer of powdery dirt. When it rains, ground is like walking in a frying pan full of bacon grease. Slippery does not even describe it. On top of it being slick, you have to navigate up and down uneven terrain, trying not to step in the newly created puddles of greenish yellow slime. Well I am sure you can guess what happens next. I almost made it. Yes, I was sliding, but I could see the Land Rover, and I was so focused at reaching my goal. But, before I knew it, I was looking at my feet above me. I put my hands down to break my fall, and they sink into the wet red muck. Quickly I get up, wipe myself off, and take a look around to see if anyone has noticed me. But I have the same amount of luck with that as a giraffe would have trying to hide in a heard of buffalos. It starts with the kids, a high pitched shrill of a laugh, and spreads to the adults until everyone is pointing and laughing. It’s like they’ve never seen a white person fall in mud before; come to think of it they probably haven’t! I really can’t gather any sense of pride or dignity at point. I start to try to brush the mud off my clothes, only to succeed in just smearing it all over. I give up, smile and wave to my audience and humbly walk off. So ends day one of my week long trip.
We plan on picking me up at 5:30 on Tuesday morning and head to Nchiraa and Wurumpo. The morning comes early, and I greet the dark dawn bleary eyed as I drink some coffee trying to clear the cobwebs from my head. I go outside to wait for my traveling buddies and the cool morning air is very refreshing. I say cool; it’s in the 70’s, but in Ghana that is freezing! People walk by bundled up in down vests, heavy winter jackets. Honest. Sweaters, hats, and fleece socks have been pulled out and put on. When the temperature reaches in the 80’s they start to put their clothes away.
I am picked up at 6:10 and we head to Nchiraa. It’s a small village with less than a thousand people in it. The dirt road that serves as main street is crowded with people going to farm, and women are busy making cocoa porridge that they sell by the side of the road. The older kids play soccer with an old coconut shell, while the younger kids pull an old tin can tied to a rope behind them. (It’s their idea of a car. Some of them will even put wooden dowels on the bottom for wheels. I will have to get a picture of this, it is precious). No video games, no TV. Sounds peaceful doesn’t it? Well it would be except for the loudspeaker attached to a telephone pole, BLASTING out the local radio station. It’s talk radio, in Twi, and even at times when they might play an occasional song, the DJ talks over the music. I was trying to have a conversation with someone standing next to me, but I gave up; I got tired of yelling. Luckily, the place we are meeting is down the street, away from the loud speaker; it right next to a spot (bar) named “The Nowhere Place”. Is that a cool name or what?? I think the owner might have an inferiority complex or something, but it is a great name for a spot. I can see it now; a guy walks out of the house and his wife asks, “Where are you going honey?” “Oh, Nowhere, I’ll be back soon.” Oh, I am killing myself here!!!! You can’t make this stuff up!!! Anyways, the meeting is supposed to start at 6:00, I think it got going around 8:30 or so.
In the afternoon, we go visit some farms. Fair Trade is wanting to have an organic market for cashews, and needs to check out some farms to see if it is possible. The soil and the climate here is great for agriculture. Because of the climate, they can get 3 harvests a year. Wenchi produces maze, cassava, yams, pineapple, coconut, palm nut, cola nuts, cashews, beans, tomatoes and cocoa all in tremendous quantities. Every market day trucks from Accra come in and load up the goods to supply the city.
All they need to do is plant the seeds and it grows. Even I could grow something, it is that simple. Simple, not necessary easy. There is a tremendous weeding to do, but they really don’t need any fertilizers. There are few diseases or insects that effect the trees so it won’t take much for them to go organic. One of the issues is weeding. Cashew farmers need to weed the area under the trees three times a year. The reason for this is because how the nut is harvested. The tree produces a flower, then a fruit. Attached to the fruit on the outside is the nut. Sounds backwards I know, but that is the way it is. They want to make sure that the nut is completely ripe before harvest, so they wait until the fruit with the nut attached, falls to the ground. Then they go around and pick up the fruit, cut off the nut and discard the fruit. It seems like a waste to throw the fruit away, but that is what they do. I am working with a gentleman that uses the fruit to make an energy drink and jams with the fruit, but he is just starting up and it will take time before that business is ready. Anyways, they need to keep the ground under the trees free of weeds so they can gather the nut. Most farmers have anywhere from 2-18 acres of land which they farm cashew trees. Until the trees become adult trees, there is a tremendous amount of weeding to do. So, this is where they use chemicals; to keep down the weeds. And, here is where Fair Trade has it’s problem. There can be no use of chemicals on an organic farm.
Educating farmers is a huge undertaking. You have to keep in mind that most of these farmers are illiterate and have very little education. I was amazed at their lack of understanding and critical thinking. Here are some examples of what I mean. They might need some chemicals for killing weeds, so they go to the agro chemical store and get chemicals. Because they can’t read, they just spray it all on, not really knowing the proper procedure for application. Then, and this is the horrible part, they will take the empty container of weed killer and use it as a container for drinking water! Ugh!!! Here is another example. In each region there is an office for the Department of Agriculture. You can bring a soil sample in and they will tell you what produce is best for your soil. And, they will tell you the best farming practices. For example, to get the most yield for cashews, you should have no more than 50 trees per acre. This will produce about 25 bags of nuts on average. This allows the trees to have ample room to grow without competing against each other. Unfortunately most farmers can’t understand this concept. Instead of planting 50 trees, they will plant 100 trees, thinking this will give the more yield. But instead of 25 bags, they only get 7 bags of nuts. When this is pointed out to them, and you suggest that they cut down some trees, they look at you like you have two heads. I could go on, but I think you have the basic idea.
So, the week is basically the same each day. My day started at 5:30 and I got home around 7:00. Lots of delays, late meetings, we even get lost once. It was a long week but gave me a good understanding of what I am up against here, and what I need to be working on. Step by step, day by day, hopefully in some small way I can help make a difference.