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Back to Eden

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ROMA – It takes courage and borders on bravery for one to turn his back on a Computer Science programme and move into agriculture to create one of the biggest farms the country has ever seen.

That’s what Hoaba Nkunyane, a National University of Lesotho (NUL) trained Computer Programmer did.
The farm has grown from eight hectares to a mammoth 58 hectares, 73 times the size of a football pitch.
“We grow cabbages, tomatoes, green peppers, potatoes, lettuce, and wheat and maize and beans,’ he said.
The farm has eight permanent staff and 27 temporary staff.

“We can’t say we are there but the future is promising,” Nkunyane says.
Such rare adventures almost always result in steep learning curves, with a promise of exceptional rewards in the end.
But where did it all start?

Like young bright fellows among us, Nkunyane found Computer Science attractive.
“I did both Computer Science and Statistics at the NUL,” he says.
“But my passion was with Computer Science.”

So when he graduated he worked for one IT company which further put fire in his love for programming.
He was both a programmer and trainer there.

He would later join the Lesotho Revenue Authority (LRA) in the same field.
“At the same period, I was also running my own software development company.”
At some point, and like most of us somewhere in life, he was struck by a Biblical “Road to Damascus moment.”
He says: “The statistician in me encouraged me to examine the agricultural imports entering Lesotho every day.”
So he hunted for the statistics.

What he found was astounding.
“For instance, I found that two million maloti worth of cabbage enters the country every month through just one border gate.”
He was thunderstruck.

So by not producing a mere cabbage, we were losing a lot eh, he apparently thought.
This Damascus Moment would take the better of him.

No, not only him, but his mother-in-law and his wife.
After much family deliberations, he decided to quit his formal employment at the LRA and entered the then unknown and (as he would later find out), rocky territory of the agricultural landscape.

Virtually everyone will tell you about the almost unlimited and romanticised benefits of engaging in agriculture.
After all, we all eat, don’t we?

And to eat, we need our constant rations from the agricultural machine.
What they won’t tell you, however, is that agriculture is not for the faint-hearted.
So at this point, switch off everything and listen even more carefully to Nkunyane.
The moment he made the decision to quit and get fully into business, “ke ne ke sa tsebe hore ke ipitsetsa ts’oene ka mora thaba,” (I wasn’t aware that I was inviting trouble for myself) to quote him verbatim.

With enthusiasm, he bought eight hectares of land at Ha-Mofoka, fenced it, and started growing potatoes and then … “we ran a big loss”.
That was the start of the first episode.
And it didn’t look good.

They then grew cabbage en masse and to quote him, again verbatim, “it was a nightmare”.
Twice they had just hit a big wall.
Now they had two big choices.
They could either soldier on, or run away scared.

They chose the first option.

“The so-called crisis situations,” it is often said, “are moments when we can either progress, or regress.”
But true progress meant that they had to avoid, as Einstein once put it, “doing the same things, in the same ways, and expect a different result.”
So what would they change?
“We learned two big lessons we want to share with farmers,” he says.
“Know your soil and get enough supply of water.”
Sounds intuitive, doesn’t it?

But that’s what most farmers get wrong.
So he was later to discover that the soil was not good, actually it was too acidic and had to be limed.
Also, when they chose the place, they never took the need for water into account, a big mistake, he says.
It was time now to brace for episode two of the struggle — the struggle to get water.

Liming the soil was a lightweight task compared to the problem of getting water.
Local villagers were now up in arms, many of them suspicious of their true intentions and worried that they would lose water to strangers in their area.
In that episode, Nkunyane learned the importance of never taking communities for granted.
“Always consult them,” he says.

The area chiefs finally agreed and they got water.
But hold on! Their problems we not over.

They enthusiastically purchased sprinklers for irrigation only to find that those things waste water like nothing on earth.
They would later adopt the water-saving drip irrigation system.

Needless to say, once more, that now the farm has grown from eight hectares to a gigantic 58 hectares and it is getting there.
What a journey!

Nkunyane has indeed learned this Edisonian lesson: “I have not failed. I just learned 999 different ways that won’t work,” said by Thomas Edison after failing 999 times on his way to producing batteries we all enjoy today.

Own Correspondent

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Insight

The Joker Returns: Conclusion

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Last week I was talking about how jokes, or humour generally, can help get one through the most desperate situations (although it’s like taking a paracetamol for a headache; a much, much stronger resort is faith). I used the example of how Polish Jews, trapped and dying in the Warsaw ghetto, used humour to get them through day by day.

A similar, though less nightmarish, situation obtains in today’s Nigeria. Conditions there are less hellish than those of the Warsaw ghetto, but still pretty awful. There are massive redundancies, so millions of people are jobless. Inflation is at about 30% and the cost of living is sky-rocketing, with the most basic foodstuffs often unavailable. There is the breakdown of basic social services.

And endemic violence, with widespread armed robbery (to travel by road from one city to another you take your life in your hands) and the frequent kidnapping for ransom of schoolchildren and teachers. In a recent issue of the Punch newspaper (Lagos) Taiwo Obindo, Professor of Psychiatry at the University of Jos, writes of the effects of economic hardship and insecurity on his people’s mental health.

He concludes: “We should see the funny side of things. We can use humour to handle some things. Don’t take things to heart; laugh it off.”

Professor Obindo doesn’t, regrettably, give examples of the humour he prescribes, but I remember two from a period when things were less grim. Power-cuts happened all the time — a big problem if you’re trying to work at night and can’t afford a generator.

And so the National Electric Power Authority (NEPA) was universally referred to as Never Expect Power Always. And second, for inter-city travel there was a company called Luxurious Buses. Believe me, the average Lesotho kombi is a great deal more luxurious (I can’t remember ever having to sit on the floor of one of those).

And because of the dreadful state of Nigerian roads and the frequent fatal crashes, Luxurious Buses were referred to as Luxurious Hearses.

Lesotho’s newspaper thepost, for which I slave away tirelessly, doesn’t use humour very much. But there is Muckraker. I’ve always wondered whether Muckraker is the pen-name of a single person or a group who alternate writing the column.

Whatever, I’d love to have a drink with him / her/ them and chew things over. I like the ironic pen-name of the author(s). Traditionally speaking, a muckraker is a gossip, someone who scrabbles around for titbits (usually sexual) on the personal life of a celebrity — not exactly a noble thing to do.

But thepost’s Muckraker exposes big problems, deep demerits, conducted by those who should know and do better — problems that the powerful would like to be swept under the carpet, and the intention of Muckraker’s exposure is corrective.

And I always join in the closing exasperated “Ichuuuu!” (as I do this rather loudly, my housemates probably think I’m going bonkers).

Finally I want to mention television satire. The Brits are renowned for this, an achievement dating back to the early 1960s and the weekly satirical programme “TW3” (That Was The Week That Was). More recently we have had “Mock the Week”, though, despite its popularity, the BBC has cancelled this.

The cancellation wasn’t for political reasons. For decades the UK has been encumbered with a foul Conservative government, though this year’s election may be won by Labour (not such very good news, as the Labour leadership is only pseudo-socialist). “Mock the Week” was pretty even-handed in deriding politicians; the BBC’s problem was, I imagine, with the programme’s frequent obscenity.

As an example of their political jokes, I quote a discussion on the less than inspiring leader of the Labour Party, Sir Keir Starmer. One member of the panel said: “Labour may well have a huge lead in the polls at present, but the day before election day Starmer will destroy it by doing something like accidentally infecting David Attenborough with chicken-pox.”

And a favourite, basically non-political interchange on “Mock the Week” had to do with our former monarch, Queen Elizabeth II. Whatever one thinks about the British monarchy as an institution, the Queen was much loved, but the following interchange between two panellists (A and B) was fun:

A: Is the Queen’s nickname really Lilibet?
B: Yes, it is.
A: I thought her nickname was Her Majesty.
B: That’s her gang name.

OK, dear readers, that’s enough humour from me for a while. Next week I’m turning dead serious — and more than a little controversial — responding to a recent Insight piece by Mokhosi Mohapi titled “A reversal of our traditions and culture.” To be forewarned is to be prepared.

Chris Dunton

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Insight

Reading, writing and the art of reflection

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There is a close thread that runs through what you reflect on, what you read and what sticks in your mind. It’s almost a cyclic process with regards to how all these processes unfold. Today, in this installment we focus on the thread between reading, reflection and writing.

This appears a bit cumbersome to explain. But let’s simplify it. Let’s begin with a beautiful poem which encompasses what we have so far spoken about. Here we are! The poem is penned by “Tachibama Akemi.” It goes:

It is a pleasure
When, rising in the morning,
I go outside and
Find that a flower has blossomed
That was not there yesterday.

Seemingly, the poem is simple. But, on close analysis, it reflects very deep reflection and thoughtfulness.

The persona, in an existential fashion, reflects all about the purpose and meaning of life and his place in the overall matrix of life.

The persona carefully reflects on nature. This is what makes all this poem rustic and romantic.

The persona thinks deeply about the blossoming flowers and how the process of the growth of flowers appears almost inadvertently.

It is a poem about change, healing, the lapse of time and the changes or vissiccitudes in the life of a person are reflected creatively through imagery and poetry. We all go through that, isn’t it? We all react and respond to love, truth and beauty.

So far everything appears very interesting. Let’s just put to the fore some good and appealing thoughts. Let’s enlarge on reading, writing and reflection.

Kindly keep in mind that thoughts must be captured, told, expressed and shared through the magical power of the written word.

As a person, obviously through keeping entries in a journal, there is no doubt that you have toyed about thoughts and ideas and experiences you wish you could put across.

Here is an example you can peek from Anthony. Anthony likes writing. He tells us that in his spare time he likes exploring a lot. And, more often than not he tells us,

“I stop, and think, and then when I find something, I just keep on writing.”

So crisp, but how beautiful. Notice something interesting here; you need to stop, to take life effortlessly and ponderously, as it were; observe, be attentive to your environment; formulate thought patterns and then write.

To some extent, this article builds on our previous experiences when we spoke at length about the reading process.

But how can you do it? It’s not pretty much different. I can help you from my previous life as a teacher of English Languge.

The most important skill you must cultivate is that of listening, close listening. Look at how people and events mingle.

What makes both of you happy; enjoy it. I am sure you still keep that journal in which you enter very beautiful entries. Reflect about Maseru, the so-called affluent city. So majestic!

How can you picture it in writing!

I am glad you learnt to reflect deep and write. Thank you very much. Kindly learn and perfect the craft of observing, reflecting and writing. Learn that connection. Let’s meet for another class.

Vuso Mhlanga

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Insight

The Joker Returns: Part One

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Don’t be put off by the title, esteemed readers; what follows has nothing to do with the Batman films. As you will be happily (or unhappily) aware, I am a big fan of jokes. There’s a common understanding that a joke is ruined if you have to explain it, and this is true, but some jokes do need a bit of background explanation. Anyway. I like jokes and I like thinking about how they work.

Many of my favourite jokes have to do with language and the way we use it. For example: “I just bought myself a thesaurus. I similar it very much.”

Other jokes have to do with human behaviour and here it is important, out of respect for others, to avoid jokes that perpetuate stereotypical ideas about gender, race, nationality, and so on. I’m afraid the following joke does depend upon a stereotype (I’ll come back to that), but here goes, after a bit of background information.

In Lesotho you have an insect called a praying mantis — stick-like, bright green, and with great bulging eyes. They are rather lovable, despite the off-putting fact that the female practices insect cannibalism; after mating, she consumes the male. So, now you’ve had your zoological primer, here goes.

Two praying mantises are getting up close and personal. The female says to the male: “before we have sex and I bite your head off, could you help me put up some shelves?”

Apologies to female readers, because, as I said, that joke perpetuates a gender stereotype, namely, that women are good with a vacuum cleaner or a dustpan and brush, but hopeless with a hammer and nails.

There are many jokes that are, as it were, much more serious than that. As I rattled on about in a couple of earlier columns, many of these are satirical — jokes that are designed to point a finger at human folly or even wickedness. In another column, titled “Should we laugh?”, I explored the question “is there any subject that should be kept out of the range of humour?”

Well, apparently not, if we take on board the following account of the Warsaw ghetto.

Historical preface first.

The Warsaw ghetto represents one of the worst atrocities in modern history. In November 1940 the genocidal Nazis rounded up all the Jews in Poland’s capital and herded them into a small sector of the city, which they euphemistically, cynically, dubbed the “Jewish Residential District in Warsaw.”

Here nearly half a million Jews were in effect imprisoned, barely subsisting on tiny food rations. An estimated quarter of a million were sent off to the death camps. An uprising against the Nazi captors was brutally crushed. Around 100 000 died of starvation or disease.

Not much to laugh about there, you might say. But then consider the following, which I’ve taken from the New York Review of Books of February 29th this year:

“In the Warsaw Ghetto in October 1941 Mary Berg, then a teenager, wrote in her diary about the improbable persistence of laughter in that hellish place: ‘Every day at the Art Café on Leszno Street one can hear songs and satire on the police, the ambulance service, the rickshaws, and even the Gestapo, [on the latter] in a veiled fashion. The typhoid epidemic itself is the subject of jokes. It is laughter through tears, but it is laughter. This is not our only weapon in the ghetto — our people laugh at death and at the Nazi decrees. Humour is the only thing the Nazis cannot understand.’”

To be concluded

Chris Dunton

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