Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Farming
Thus far
in my writing I’ve completely neglected to discuss agriculture in Madagascar.
This is has been an unfortunate oversight as agriculture is arguably the most
essential sector of the nation’s economy.
First
and foremost, though I am still technically a Community Economic Development (CED) Volunteer in name, word has
come down from on high in Washington DC that Madagascar must cease to have four
Peace Corps sectors, and henceforth the CED and Environment sectors will be
tumbled together and bundled under the title, Agriculture, focused primarily upon food security issues. As I took my oath as a CED volunteer, my
mandate stands as is, unaltered. Meaning
my fellow CED volunteers and I, the last of our kind here in Mada, are free to
work with artisan cooperatives as the primary focus of our service. However,
from here on out Peace Corps is focusing on increased crop yields, crop
diversification, and value added processing.
As luck would have it, work with value-added production through the
fruit drying kids has become my big ticket project at site, so hopefully I’ll
be able to leverage the newly disposed resources of Peace Corps to my advantage
as things move forward.
Before
coming to this country I knew very little about its agricultural
production. More specifically, I had no
idea about one of the most striking facets of Malagasy culture, the diet. It may be surprising but Madagascar actually
consumes more rice per capita than any other nation on Earth. I’ve previously
alluded to the magnitude of rice consumption in this country, but the Malagasy
people are absolutely voracious when it comes to their rice. This is largely a function of habit, of
course, but a habit that has been perpetuated by centuries of poverty,
solidifying rice as the only true viable crop capable of sustaining the 22
million inhabitants of Madagascar.
In a
country as poor as Madagascar it is not uncommon for subsistence agriculture to
dominate the economic sphere.
Estimations from individuals around town here in Arivonimamo assume that
roughly 70% of households own an individual rice field, or a small plot of land
on which they grow their own food.
Surplus, when there is any, is sold in the market but there is very
little price stability. When the harvest
season of a specific crop approaches,
the only time a family farmer is likely to see much of a surplus, the price of
goods will plummet as the market is flooded with that specific product. For example, during the month of February,
the high season of pineapple here in Arivonimamo, I can find a good sized
pineapple in the field for 200 Ar (roughly 8 cents), however in the low season
prices can skyrocket to 1000 Ar (about 45 cents). Given the relative purchasing power of Ar I
would say it’s roughly equivalent to getting a pineapple for the price of a
candy bar during the high season, versus the cost of going out to eat at a fast
food place in the low season. For a
population that hangs by a thread in terms of their economic security, the
distinction is glaring.
Still,
despite all of Madagascar’s rice production, the level of consumption still
leaves Madagascar importing rice from other nations, notably Pakistan and
China, to feed its insatiable appetite.
The government of Madagascar has introduced price stabilization schemes
in the past aimed at decreasing the nation’s exposure to commodity price
shocks. Still, the people of Madagascar
are acutely aware of fluctuations in the price and availability of rice. In Madagascar, the few months prior to the
rice harvest, which begins in the month of April, there is a period known as
‘maitso-ahitra.’ This essentially means the time of the ‘green grass,’ when the
stalks of the rice are coming up but are yet to be ripe for harvest. This is one of the direst times of the year,
and amongst the Peace Corps community here it’s referred to as the hungry
season. During this time of year people
are stretched thin, the rice from the previous year is running low, prices are
climbing, and many farmers have no recourse but to wait for their lifeblood,
the rice harvest, to deliver respite from months of scraping by. I’ll always remember the words of wisdom
delivered to my training group last April by Peace Corps’ visiting regional
security advisor. We asked him to expound upon the intricacies of the political
crisis and to give us his honest appraisal of whether or not we would be
evacuated. He looked off over the lake
as he lit a cigarette and with a callous exasperation said, ‘if you want to
know how the winds are blowing here in Madagascar, watch the price of rice.’
Now I
can’t say honestly that I had any intention of getting into farming here in
Madagascar. I figured I’d give rice a
shot, because, well, it seemed criminal to live here for two years and not
learn a thing about farming rice. As is the habit of this place, an opportunity
to become integrally involved in farming fell into my lap and I’ve been trying
to take advantage of the situation.
A few
months back I’d been discussing voter registration with some of my neighbors
and found out that one of them, Hanitra, worked for the Malagasy census and
voter registration organization, CEN-IT.
She mentioned that the following day she was going to visit the rural
village of Ankeniheny, a few miles outside of town, and asked if I would like
to tag along. Naturally I jumped at the
opportunity, and when the morning came, we hiked together along the main road
until we arrived at the first outcropping of houses.
So as to
be observant of the Malagasy hierarchy, the first house we passed by was that
of the president of the small village.
We were warmly greeted by the family, but the hospitality quickly
succumbed to quizzical gazes and puzzled expressions. Who exactly is this vazah (foreigner) that
you’ve brought to our town Hanitra? She began to explain that I was a neighbor
who worked with artisan groups, but I stepped in to expand on the explanation. Upon hearing my Malagasy a smile broke across
the woman’s face.
‘You
work with artisans?’ she asked, ‘because we have silk weavers here in
town. Could you work with them?’
‘Of
course, I’d love to meet them. Let’s set
a time and I can come back. We can talk
about forming an association or a cooperative,’ I told her.
‘Or
wait….,’ she said, as her eyes lit up, ‘what about farmers, can you work with
farmers? What about a farming association?’
Her
enthusiasm was infectious so I agreed to return. It’s important in Madagascar
to capitalize on those moments that you find genuine diligence, so we set a
time and as the day of the meeting approached I studied all things pertaining
to the formation of a cooperative or association, the relative benefits of
each, the requisite paperwork, any fees associated, until I felt I could
properly teach the subject.
The day
of our meeting arrived and as I pulled up to the house on my bike I was greeted
by more than fifteen women and one man, all of whom introduced themselves as
future members of our group. In interest
of time I’ll skip the mundane details of our meeting but in the end the farmers
decided to form an association, as opposed to a cooperative, and set a date for
the big meeting during which they would decide the association’s leadership and
certify a constitution formally establishing the group. When the time of that meeting arrived I was
with them as well as we talked through elections and the necessary documents
for the association’s registration with the government. I was slightly disheartened that in a group
of 15 women and 1 man, the man was chosen as president of the association. Later, out in the yard, I asked one of my
confidants in the group why on earth they chose the only man to be their leader.
‘Isn’t that how it has to be?’ she asked.
In hindsight I should have made that clear during previous trainings,
but to be quite honest, the existence of that misconception wasn’t anywhere
close to on my radar.
Since
that meeting things have been progressing at a breakneck speed and it’s all
that I can do to try to keep up with the development of their association. I feel a responsibility to the group, having
helped plant the seed for the association, but the work ethic of these farmers
and the enthusiasm they have for moving forward with the project leaves me
playing catch up much of the time. It’s
inspiring that every time I go out to visit I have to get the news on what new
initiative they’ve decided to tackle.
Productive competence is something that’s lacking in many of the
artisans I encounter, in part as a result of failings in the education system,
in part due to a cultural predisposition to shirk risk and fear change.
However, I’m absolutely floored by the diligence of this little farming association. They are currently farming a communal plot of
land in order to sell the products to a larger commercial client and told me
recently that they plan to take a small vacation together as a bonding
experience for the community.
The only
speed bump that we’ve hit thus far was during the association’s registration at
city hall. There are two deputy mayors
who can formalize a cooperative. One of
them told me that there was no cost associated with legally registering a
group, and then at a later date, when I was with some members of the
association, we were told it would cost roughly 50,000 Ar….. Guess who we
decided to go with.
My
intention in writing this entry was to convey the importance of agriculture,
particularly rice, in the lives of people here in Madagascar. With that in mind I want to conclude by
making reference to a fairly alarming piece of news that I was recently made
aware of. It may already be known by
many individuals reading this outside of Madagascar that in the previous week
both CNN and BBC broke a story about a plague of locusts bearing down on
Madagascar. According to sources I’ve come across, one half to two-thirds of
the nation could be affected by this swarm of crop-devouring insects and
Madagascar will soon require a massive influx of funds for eradication efforts
along with food aid to keep the population from starving. Not to mention we’re heading into election
season soon so…we’ll just have to watch the price of rice.
Until
next time,
Veloma
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)