I must
admit that the prospect of growing tropical plants, and not having to nurse
them through the first few winters is very appealing. Yes, once again, I know I
will only be here for one year, and there is no winter anyway. The pleasure, in
this case, will not be seeing the trees flower and fruit, but nurturing them to
some degree of maturity in the first 10 months - and plants here grow quickly!
Around the
district there is a cornucopia (I have always wanted to use that word in a
sentence) of horticultural delights. Produce is prevalent in the market and, although the skins are often marked, inside the fruit is perfect. Tropical fruit-wise there are pineapples,
sugar cane, guavas, avocados, bananas, sapotes (look it up!), mangoes, paw paws,
and probably a few others I have forgotten. Oh yes, we bought something like a
tamarillo and were assured that they were ‘very good’. These were shoved in the
window as we negotiated a speed bump on the main road between Eldoret and
Kamukuywe. EVERYONE stops in the middle of the highway to buy fruit … this is
Kenya.
So this
fruit was about the size of a plum but the shape of an egg. The skin was very
thin and appeared inedible. Underneath was a yellow flesh that looked very
edible. We tried the flesh and was taken aback by its bitterness. Kenyans eat
these, we reasoned, so maybe we should give it another try. No, after bravely
trying again they were just too bitter for us to eat.
What to do
with a bag of bitter tamarillo-like fruit? Well if Kenyans like them, offer
them to Kenyans. Along to the staffroom they went, along with some oranges and
bananas (I like to treat the staff during our professional development
sessions, it makes them less likely to stay away!).
The first
taker was watched by us white folk with great excitement. She picked up the
fruit, cut it in half and scooped out the seeds in the centre. “Mmmm, tastes
just like passionfruit” she said.
Nut-wise,
we have bought ground nuts (small peanuts), macadamias and cashews.
The
macadamias are an interesting story. We had heard that they had been introduced
to Kenya, mostly being grown on the larger agribusiness farms. At nurseries we
had inquired, but without success. Then, not more than a week ago, we were
driving home from market and slowing to negotiate a bumpy section in the road.
In true Kenyan style, a hand reaches in the window and a voice asks if we would
like to buy some nuts. Upon closer examination we realise that they are
macadamias. Our vendor not only sells the nuts, he grows them, and he has
plants for sale. I agree to buy three seedlings at a price of 200 shillings ($2.50)
each. Two days later, in true Kenyan style he turns up with four trees and no change.
So, in true muzungu style, I pay him 1000 shillings for 4 trees plus a large bag
of macadamias. Desleigh, being a Queenslander by birth, is particularly
delighted to see the “bobble nuts”.
Climatic
conditions may be good for plants and trees, but there is a hazard at this
school that I have never encountered before. That hazard is comprised of seven
cows, four goats, four sheep and a fluctuating number of hens and roosters.
These
animals eat anything and everything. What the cows leave, the goats eat. What
they don’t want, the chickens finish off. This is nature’s way, but makes it
very difficult to keep seedlings alive. Hence, around the school plants have
been protected, by large, ugly wooden structures that deter herbivores.
Initially, I thought this was over-kill but now I am a convert and recognise
that desperate measures are needed to keep out the voracious enemy.
I had
already planted four Australian natives – two melaleucas and two callistemon.
All gone within three days. My sticks and plastic bag protection was no
challenge for the four-legged hordes.
Planted a
healthy young avocado seedling – somehow a goat got underneath the barrier and
stripped it clean.
My
descriptions of the cattle have been rather scathing, and so I must admit there
is one advantage of having them around. Never before have I been able to dig a
hole, remove the weeds, walk 5 metres and pick up a sun-dried cowpat to
fertilise the new home for my plant. Fortunately, what goes in one end comes
out the other. The cycle of nature assists again.
Kitale is
our destination for groceries and hard-to-get items. Actually in a Western
Kenyan village, most things are hard to get. I hatched a plan to use Western
know-how to protect my babies; star posts and chicken wire. The trip to Kitale
was the first step in my plan to win the range war. However, after describing a
‘star post’ to three or four hardware shop owners (all Indians I may add), I
came to the conclusion that Kenyans use wood for such things as metal is too
expensive. Star posts do not exist in Kenya. This is a shame because I think
there would be a huge market if they could be provided at the right price.
To cut this
story a little shorter, I was able to buy some angle bar that came in 20 foot
lengths. Not as strong or as thick as star posts but good enough. Luckily, most
shops have an excess of workers (“disguised unemployment” we called it in
Economics) so the metal was cut into 4 foot lengths at no extra cost. Chicken
wire, like corrugated iron, is plentiful but of very poor quality.
And so, a
few hours of labour and a few bleeding fingers later (have you ever worked with
light-gauge chicken wire?) my higher-tech barriers are complete. The only
question now is; “will they have the tops eaten off them when they reach a
height of three feet?” At least, that shouldn’t be my worry.
Just a
thought; they grow coffee in Kenya don’t they? …Hmmmmm.
Happy
gardening.
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