The habit of impostor syndrome runs deep, but I actually know stuff now. I am grateful to the mentors I've had in my time in grad school, especially for helping me to realize that one can study scientific perspectives to serve as one of but many ways of being a thinker. Teaching a high school class about agriculture, here in rural Zambia sounds pretty thrilling to me. Especially if i have the freedom to make it an agroecology/food studies type class. I only hope to give students a curriculum that is respectful of the realities they face growing up in agricultural communities in the global south in this day and age, while also being honest about the full range of options they have in their roles as farmer-citizens.
I started playing with words while studying vocab today and accidentally wrote my first poem in Tonga. It's probably chock full of grammatical errors but I'll just claim poetic license. Unfortunately I can't figure out how to insert audio I recorded, but here's Tonga text, followed by rough English translation: Cilotoyota Ndalikulota kuti ndalikuyota … Continue reading A compost fever dream
Just think: there are people out there in this world who you would love with your whole heart, and you both dont even know it. And somewhere on this Earth there is a tree growing bearing fruits you've never even imagined, whose flavors you wouldn't have dreamed. Remember this mere existence, for there lies magic. And if you should ever get to meet such people, or taste such fruits, I can tell you: there's nothing luckier.
Let's talk about fire. I am one month into the charcoal cooking life with my handy little brazier. The brazier is a round metal contraption that has a solid layer on the bottom to collect ashes that fall, and then a second level that has some small holes in it, with a cylinder wall around … Continue reading On fire, fuel, and food
On weekend mornings I used to walk over to the coffee shop, leaving slushy bootprints on salty sidewalks. I'd grab a mug and settle in with my book or computer while the town was still sleepy outside. The whirr of grinding beans and hisses of steam from the espresso machine made an underlying accompaniment for … Continue reading When you’ve planted lemon trees
This should be a story about wading through sky, a moss-slick bridge, a blinding invisible cloud raining up fromthe earthallaround drencheddrippingfloodpouring through you water on wateron water on and on washing on and gushing on and on soaking spongy shirts on sopping skin, eyes stung by an apocalyptic sunshower surrounding all sides, water, rushing to … Continue reading Content warning: lack of babboon photos enclosed
Here's a poem I wrote instead of studying for my language test one night: Edited with BlogPad Pro
The soil is rusty and the air always smells faintly of manure. Though manure from what species is anyone's guess. And it smells like marshmallows. Maybe just to me. There are no marshmallows here, but when I smell charcoal burning, my brain says 'campfires!' and doesn't know any better. I know exactly where my water … Continue reading Waste not want not
I plan to update this space with short poems as they come up. 22/02/2017 ZamDad's a farmer And "agrodealer," he says (My new favorite word) How farm I have come, and yet Bayer ad welcomes me home 01/03/2017 Dear mom -- training's great They said popcorn's a whole grain Lifestyle justifiedEdited with BlogPad … Continue reading Poetry corner
A couple moments/images from the first week-- Inside there are a few couches, sunken and worn, that look like they've been here longer than anyone knows. Where their story starts, who can say. But in a single moment there's a quiet harshness to that which is illuminated by a single naked lightbulb. And in this … Continue reading Snapshots