I made a large flipchart of of the pictures to display as Joshia read. Joshia had a talent and made an excellent job of the reading.
Through my friendship with a Ministry of Forestry & Bee Keeping official, the story was printed in the Mkulima [Farmer] magazine.
Through my friendship with a Ministry of Forestry & Bee Keeping official, the story was printed in the Mkulima [Farmer] magazine.
Grace's Dream
As the midwife was cleaning Grace's small body, the light of a bright falling star shone upon her face.
The next day the midwife told the village people about this strange event, and the oldest, wisest man in the village said that some day Grace would do wonderful things for her people.
As Grace grew, she seemed no different to the other children of her village. She caught the usual childhood sicknesses and suffered the usual bumps and bruises; as well of course she was punished for her misdemeanors. It was notices however that the bean and maize seeds she planted always seemed to grow better than anyone else's!
When Grace was about eight years old, on an especially hot and dusty day, she fell asleep in her favorite place - under the big baobab tree [Mbuyu] which grew near the edge of the village. Grace had a strange dream:
The Mbuyu had a gaunt face, and the lower branches bent so it appeared like a person with hands on hips. The face was sad, and the tree spoke to her in a booming voice!
"Please help us.' Begged the tree, 'Our land is being destroyed by erosion, the forests have been felled and the people of the land do not understand how important the environment is to us all! Grace, please tell them and make them understand!'
Grace woke with a troubled mind. She remembered her dream vividly but did not understand what it meant.
In the village there lived an old man who had been Headteacher at the village school. Grace did not know him but had heard of his great wisdom and kindness. She decided to go and talk to him.
'Good morning wise teacher.' Grace greeted the old man in the respectful way.
'Oh good morning young child.' The old man's greeting was just as respectful.
Grace was a little embarrassed and shy, so looked at her feet because she did not know how to begin.
'How can I help you?' asked the old man. But Grace continued to inspect her feet. 'You can call me Olasiti. What is your name?'
'Grace.' she spoke softly, then brightened, 'Isn't Olasiti the name of a tree?'
'Yes, it is a tall strong tree!' replied Olasiti.
'Mzee Olasiti, what is erosion?' Grace asked.
The old man rubbed his chin in thought, then replied. 'See that ditch over there where the rainwater has washed the soil away to make a deep gulley?'
'Yes I see.' said Grace.
'That is erosion. That gully was once a road, but when the trees were cut down there was nothing to prevent the water washing the dust and soil away to form the gully.'
'How does that happen?' asked Grace.
'Well, when the rains come, water begins to trickle down the wheel tracks and the more rain that comes, the fast the flow of water. Soon the water has enough strength to carry the soil with it so the wheel tracks become deep ditches to form that gulley you see there. The fertility is washed away!'
'Mzee Olasiti, why does cutting the trees cause this? I don't understand.' said Grace.
The old man replied. 'Trees prevent erosion in two ways. When it rains hard, the drops hit the soil with such force that the soil particle are moved and begin to wash with the flow of water. The leaves and branches of the tree protect the soil by breaking the force of the raindrops. The leaves can even break big raindrops into smaller, less powerful ones. You know, this helps the soil to soak up water instead of running off and causing erosion.' Olasiti stopped for a breath, and Grace was enjoying listening to the wise old man.
'You said there were two ways trees prevent erosion.' Grace reminded him.
'Yes. The roots hold the soil together. Very small roots that are hard to see. With the roots holding the soil, erosion is less likely to happen.' he paused, 'Some of Tanzania's trees are special because they add fertility to the soil, which encourages other plants to grow. This too protects the soil.'
'I think I understand.' said Grace.
Olasiti continued, 'In the dry season, have you noticed the whirlwinds?'
'Yes, great clouds of dust!' replied Grace.
'That is erosion too! The dust is actually valuable top soil - the soil that has the most fertility for crops. After the rain has scoured the land, the wind comes to make things worse! The sun dries it and the wind blows the particles away. Even worse though, when man makes the ground bare by lighting fires, or even trough cultivation. The wind takes valuable fertility away!' The old man seemed sad.
'That's awful!' exclaimed Grace, 'What can be done about it?'
'First people need to be aware of the environment.' Olasiti began.
'Environment!' Grace was excited, 'That's the other word -' she trailed off not wanting to mention the talking Mbuyu.
'Hmm,' Olasiti gathered his thoughts, 'A healthy environment is vital for our existence - do you understand?'
'Not really.' answered Grace.
'Well the environment is all our surroundings. The land, the rivers, the trees, the animals, the birds, the mountains - everything. One depends upon the other - understand? I have just told you how the soil depends on the trees for protection. The eagle depends on trees for a home and on smaller birds and animals for food. Other birds depend on insects or seeds. Everything depends on everything else - wel for survival!'
'Like I depend on my mother!' Grace put in.
'Exactly right, but it goes deeper than that. When a leaf falls from a tree, the leaf becomes food for ants or termites and smaller plants called fungi. After those things have used the leaf it returns to the soil as fertility which helps beans and maize to grow. So we need insects and even the plants we can't see.'
'I think I understand why the environment is so important,' said Grace thoughtfully, 'but I don't think my family or my friends know about it.'
'There is much more to the environment that I have told you Grace. It is a precious thing and easily harmed.' reflected the old man.
Grace never forgot about her dream of the Mbuyu speaking to her and she remembered what old Olasiti had told her.
One day soon after, Grace saw her father cut down a Mgunga tree.
'Father! You are destroying the environment!' she told him.'
'I know that trees are becoming scarce in the village, but if I do not cut this tree, we will be unable to cook our food - then you will starve.' Grace's father replied.
Grace thought about this all day and at the evening meal, she said to her father, 'You are right that we need to cook our food and trees are the best fuel. We should make plans. It is easy to go from one day to the next and not worry about the future, but what happens to future generations?'
Grace's father was a little embarrassed. 'Maybe we will have to move away....'
'But father, that's not fair! This is a good place and our generation has to move away because your generation did not care for the environment.' Grace said quietly.
'I understand what you are saying Grace, but it is very difficult.'
Grace butted in, even though she knew she should not. 'No father, it's not difficult! plant some trees before you cut one down!'
'Hmm, that's possible.' he conceded.
'Of course it is father! Why not find out how much wood we need in a year and plant trees to harvest for fuel?'
'A good idea,' said her father, 'but there are difficulties.'
'You told me once that nothing in life comes easily.' Grace reminded him.
'Well,' her father decided,'you are in charge of growing our trees!'
Grace had no way of knowing how much wood was needed, she simply began working on a small tree nursery and during the rainy season, she planted them around their homestead. Many grew.
Over the following years she faced many problems; there were droughts, goats, cattle, hens and fire. She learned to cope with the problems and her successes became greater than her losses.
At first the village people laughed at her and watched her carry water during the dry moths to water her trees. It was hard work and they watched from their shady resting place.
It did not take long for the trees to grow and they provided shade on those hot dry days, and they gave shelter from the wind - the house wasn't so dusty anymore. And there was fruit and fodder for the cattle - even her father's crops produced more because of the extra fertility and shelter.
Grace became an expert on growing trees and when people saw her successes, the asked for her help and advice. Grace gave it willingly and shared her experience, seeds and seedlings. Gradually as the village environment improved, so did the quality of life there.
Grace had grown a small forest and there was more than enough fuelwood from fallen branches and she was able to sell other wood products, the value exceeding the income from her father's cattle - this was indeed a blessing for her family!
Harvesting caused some worries at first for Grace because she loved her trees but she learned about 'coppicing' and either tinned her trees or replanted harvested ones. Grace was practicing 'sustainable forestry'!
Over the years Grace shared her knowledge with anyone who would listen and gradually the message spread, like the ripples in pond when a stone is thrown in! From village to village the environment slowly improved.
The old wise man had predicted that Grace would do wonderful things for her people and he was correct! But Grace would say it was not her, it was the trees that did the wonderful things for the people.
As the midwife was cleaning Grace's small body, the light of a bright falling star shone upon her face.
The next day the midwife told the village people about this strange event, and the oldest, wisest man in the village said that some day Grace would do wonderful things for her people.
As Grace grew, she seemed no different to the other children of her village. She caught the usual childhood sicknesses and suffered the usual bumps and bruises; as well of course she was punished for her misdemeanors. It was notices however that the bean and maize seeds she planted always seemed to grow better than anyone else's!
When Grace was about eight years old, on an especially hot and dusty day, she fell asleep in her favorite place - under the big baobab tree [Mbuyu] which grew near the edge of the village. Grace had a strange dream:
The Mbuyu had a gaunt face, and the lower branches bent so it appeared like a person with hands on hips. The face was sad, and the tree spoke to her in a booming voice!
"Please help us.' Begged the tree, 'Our land is being destroyed by erosion, the forests have been felled and the people of the land do not understand how important the environment is to us all! Grace, please tell them and make them understand!'
Grace woke with a troubled mind. She remembered her dream vividly but did not understand what it meant.
In the village there lived an old man who had been Headteacher at the village school. Grace did not know him but had heard of his great wisdom and kindness. She decided to go and talk to him.
'Good morning wise teacher.' Grace greeted the old man in the respectful way.
'Oh good morning young child.' The old man's greeting was just as respectful.
Grace was a little embarrassed and shy, so looked at her feet because she did not know how to begin.
'How can I help you?' asked the old man. But Grace continued to inspect her feet. 'You can call me Olasiti. What is your name?'
'Grace.' she spoke softly, then brightened, 'Isn't Olasiti the name of a tree?'
'Yes, it is a tall strong tree!' replied Olasiti.
'Mzee Olasiti, what is erosion?' Grace asked.
The old man rubbed his chin in thought, then replied. 'See that ditch over there where the rainwater has washed the soil away to make a deep gulley?'
'Yes I see.' said Grace.
'That is erosion. That gully was once a road, but when the trees were cut down there was nothing to prevent the water washing the dust and soil away to form the gully.'
'How does that happen?' asked Grace.
'Well, when the rains come, water begins to trickle down the wheel tracks and the more rain that comes, the fast the flow of water. Soon the water has enough strength to carry the soil with it so the wheel tracks become deep ditches to form that gulley you see there. The fertility is washed away!'
'Mzee Olasiti, why does cutting the trees cause this? I don't understand.' said Grace.
The old man replied. 'Trees prevent erosion in two ways. When it rains hard, the drops hit the soil with such force that the soil particle are moved and begin to wash with the flow of water. The leaves and branches of the tree protect the soil by breaking the force of the raindrops. The leaves can even break big raindrops into smaller, less powerful ones. You know, this helps the soil to soak up water instead of running off and causing erosion.' Olasiti stopped for a breath, and Grace was enjoying listening to the wise old man.
'You said there were two ways trees prevent erosion.' Grace reminded him.
'Yes. The roots hold the soil together. Very small roots that are hard to see. With the roots holding the soil, erosion is less likely to happen.' he paused, 'Some of Tanzania's trees are special because they add fertility to the soil, which encourages other plants to grow. This too protects the soil.'
'I think I understand.' said Grace.
Olasiti continued, 'In the dry season, have you noticed the whirlwinds?'
'Yes, great clouds of dust!' replied Grace.
'That is erosion too! The dust is actually valuable top soil - the soil that has the most fertility for crops. After the rain has scoured the land, the wind comes to make things worse! The sun dries it and the wind blows the particles away. Even worse though, when man makes the ground bare by lighting fires, or even trough cultivation. The wind takes valuable fertility away!' The old man seemed sad.
'That's awful!' exclaimed Grace, 'What can be done about it?'
'First people need to be aware of the environment.' Olasiti began.
'Environment!' Grace was excited, 'That's the other word -' she trailed off not wanting to mention the talking Mbuyu.
'Hmm,' Olasiti gathered his thoughts, 'A healthy environment is vital for our existence - do you understand?'
'Not really.' answered Grace.
'Well the environment is all our surroundings. The land, the rivers, the trees, the animals, the birds, the mountains - everything. One depends upon the other - understand? I have just told you how the soil depends on the trees for protection. The eagle depends on trees for a home and on smaller birds and animals for food. Other birds depend on insects or seeds. Everything depends on everything else - wel for survival!'
'Like I depend on my mother!' Grace put in.
'Exactly right, but it goes deeper than that. When a leaf falls from a tree, the leaf becomes food for ants or termites and smaller plants called fungi. After those things have used the leaf it returns to the soil as fertility which helps beans and maize to grow. So we need insects and even the plants we can't see.'
'I think I understand why the environment is so important,' said Grace thoughtfully, 'but I don't think my family or my friends know about it.'
'There is much more to the environment that I have told you Grace. It is a precious thing and easily harmed.' reflected the old man.
Grace never forgot about her dream of the Mbuyu speaking to her and she remembered what old Olasiti had told her.
One day soon after, Grace saw her father cut down a Mgunga tree.
'Father! You are destroying the environment!' she told him.'
'I know that trees are becoming scarce in the village, but if I do not cut this tree, we will be unable to cook our food - then you will starve.' Grace's father replied.
Grace thought about this all day and at the evening meal, she said to her father, 'You are right that we need to cook our food and trees are the best fuel. We should make plans. It is easy to go from one day to the next and not worry about the future, but what happens to future generations?'
Grace's father was a little embarrassed. 'Maybe we will have to move away....'
'But father, that's not fair! This is a good place and our generation has to move away because your generation did not care for the environment.' Grace said quietly.
'I understand what you are saying Grace, but it is very difficult.'
Grace butted in, even though she knew she should not. 'No father, it's not difficult! plant some trees before you cut one down!'
'Hmm, that's possible.' he conceded.
'Of course it is father! Why not find out how much wood we need in a year and plant trees to harvest for fuel?'
'A good idea,' said her father, 'but there are difficulties.'
'You told me once that nothing in life comes easily.' Grace reminded him.
'Well,' her father decided,'you are in charge of growing our trees!'
Grace had no way of knowing how much wood was needed, she simply began working on a small tree nursery and during the rainy season, she planted them around their homestead. Many grew.
Over the following years she faced many problems; there were droughts, goats, cattle, hens and fire. She learned to cope with the problems and her successes became greater than her losses.
At first the village people laughed at her and watched her carry water during the dry moths to water her trees. It was hard work and they watched from their shady resting place.
It did not take long for the trees to grow and they provided shade on those hot dry days, and they gave shelter from the wind - the house wasn't so dusty anymore. And there was fruit and fodder for the cattle - even her father's crops produced more because of the extra fertility and shelter.
Grace became an expert on growing trees and when people saw her successes, the asked for her help and advice. Grace gave it willingly and shared her experience, seeds and seedlings. Gradually as the village environment improved, so did the quality of life there.
Grace had grown a small forest and there was more than enough fuelwood from fallen branches and she was able to sell other wood products, the value exceeding the income from her father's cattle - this was indeed a blessing for her family!
Harvesting caused some worries at first for Grace because she loved her trees but she learned about 'coppicing' and either tinned her trees or replanted harvested ones. Grace was practicing 'sustainable forestry'!
Over the years Grace shared her knowledge with anyone who would listen and gradually the message spread, like the ripples in pond when a stone is thrown in! From village to village the environment slowly improved.
The old wise man had predicted that Grace would do wonderful things for her people and he was correct! But Grace would say it was not her, it was the trees that did the wonderful things for the people.
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