Mama Bustani

We were visiting Likamba village one hot day, contemplating the effects of erosion, which is not always caused by water.  I felt sorry for the Maasai women as they trudged down the dusty road because they were dressed up in their finery to go to the market at Ngaremtoni.  I was embarrassed that my little Maruti  kicked up a cloud of fine dust that coats everything and probably sticking to the oil (Vaseline) they rubbed into their skin to make it shine. The dust will dull any shine!

The dusty road into Likamba

At the village office, the Mtendaje (Village Executive Officer) told us that there was a woman in a remote part of the village who had a small tree nursery, and that she wanted us to give her some advice.

This woman, who's proper name, we never actually knew, was always referred to as Mama Bustani -  'bustani' meaning garden, a tree nursery is Bustani ya miti.

Mama Bustani holding an Avocado tree seedling. Mama Bustani's sister is in yellow.

Josiah looks on.

Mama Bustani had a very small compound and her tree nursery consisted of perhaps 100 trees that she had grown from seed she had collected around the village. The trees were not thriving very well and I knew immediately that they were suffering through lack of water.

I asked her where she collected water, and was told that she borrowed a donkey every third day and she went to Kisongo,  threes hours away to bring back two thirty litre drums of water. This water had to be divided between household use, including cooking, washing clothes, personal hygiene and the tree nursery. This is why the trees suffered.

When she irrigated her trees, most of the water simply went into the soil around her pots. This is because when soil dries out it the pot, it shrinks allowing water to pass freely between to pot wall and the soil block, so the tree gets very little water. What little water she could afford was being lost!

I advised Mama Bustani to shift her trees and make a 'basin' for them to sit in. I also told her I would bring her a sheet of plastic on my next trip. Deep down I don't think she  believed I would ever return, but Josiah assured her that the effort would be worthwhile. We returned the next week to find she had done exactly we we had advised, so we laid the plastic sheet in the basin and carefully placed the plants in their pots on it. Mama Bustani was pleased with the results and her eyes gleamed and she smiled broadly.

Her gratitude turned to tears when I produced the two 20 litre containers of water! We used about 10 litres to water the nursery and she was able to save the rest! She told us that our water was cleaner and sweeter than the stuff she collected. She was very happy indeed!

After that, whenever we went to Likamba, I always popped my two containers of water in the old Maruti and we would visit her. She was always grateful and the trees grew well. 

I asked her what she was going to do with the trees, and her reply was that half she would plant on her farm, the rest she would sell.

In the end, I bought her surplus trees, to add to those from our nursery at Sanawari, because it was her I paid a slightly inflated price by way of encouragement. Just for motivation.

As a footnote, after our projects had moved away from Likamba, Missy and I returned there to gather information for her Masters degree thesis. Mama Bustani was still using the techniques we had taught her, her forest was growing, and when Missy asked how she had used the money she had made, her reply was, 'My husband provides for me, what need do I have for money? I grow trees for my own interest so I gave him the money because he would know how to use it best!' This was a surprise to Missy who was studying woman's issues, but for my part, I was glad that extra trees were being planted in the area.