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Subtle Agroecologies
embodied voice – italicised – comes from a ‘more-than-human’ perspective that is embedded, and
wholly invested, in a traditionalism that holds the tripartite relationships between people, ecology
and spirit world as sacred. While our ‘voices see through different eyes’, they often converge, as if
refecting an interior conversation, with all its inherent concurrence and discordance. As the conversation unfolds, we explore how both are understood in relation to layered and complex relationships
and what this means for people farming across landscapes in Zimbabwe today.
Our starting point is a shared recognition of these interconnections, and that the rational technocratic approaches that have come to dominate through a dogmatic belief in the primacy of science
often devoid of people, and the relentless developmentalism it perpetuates, have not historically
served people, nor the ecology upon which they depend. Through this conversation that interweaves
the inherent contradictions between traditionally wielded power, patriarchy and patronage, we
attempt to arrive at a better understanding of traditional belief and its practices, and the powerful
dissonances, synergies and energies they generate.
THE LANDSCAPE AND ITS PEOPLE
We frst met when George started her doctoral research in Chikukwa in 2016. I was her impromptu
cultural guide, advising on how to dress and address others, according to our customs. As we
walked across the landscape, visiting the sacred ruins of our ancestors’ frst settlement, a dawn
‘Jickenisheni’ drumming convergence as the sun rose over the mountains, and a rain making ceremony at the top of the watershed, we shared stories. We talked about how the Chikukwa clan
came to be – how our forefather, Nzvinzvi, arrived from afar on the wing, in the form of ishwa, a
fying ant. The ishwa is our clan’s totem which, in our African tradition, we are forbidden to harm.
Long before we heard of Aladdin and his fying carpet, our tradition was rich with stories of how
Nzvinzvi took to the sky, riding on a winnowing basket carrying out heroic deeds to protect the
community from wrongdoings.
The remote enclave of Chikukwa sits at the end of the winding ungraded road before the mountains rise towards the Mozambique border. Chikukwa’s ten villages sit between a transboundary
conservation area and Zimbabwe’s once-thriving forestry belt, the creation of each having shaped
a history of evictions, land struggles and waves of cross-border migration that has defned local
politics and ongoing land tensions. Despite the imposition of the border that formally divided the
lands of the Gaza Nguni people under the Anglo-Portuguese Treaty of 1891, this now transnational
community regularly crosses the porous border for ceremonial gatherings and rituals that reconnect
its fve villages in Mozambique. As such, Chikukwans remain one clan, sharing the same dialect
and a royal family with a deep lineage, headed by Chief Chikukwa.
Together, our clan elders and the spirit medium visit a shrine in Mozambique called Maate to
communicate with the ancestors, to ask the High God Mwari for protection against threats, such as
drought, crop pests and diseases. Only after successive droughts are monetary donations collected
for messengers to take sacred seed to the most important shrines as an offering.
Fanning across the steep hillsides, Chikukwa’s villages are fed by natural springs that have traditionally supported food production in home gardens. Chikukwa’s altitude, soils and rainfall conditions, where temperatures rarely fall below 3°C, are ideal for a range of crops, from coffee and tree
crops (fruit and nuts) to vegetables and cereals. Until 2019, seasonal rain-fed agriculture was centred
largely on maize production on the wetlands alongside the Musapa River, which fows through
the Chimanimani Gap and on into Mozambique. One night, in March 2019, the alluvial soils that
made this riverine environment so productive were washed away when the arrival of Cyclone Idai
devastated the landscape for 3 days, depositing half the expected annual rainfall in only 12 hours,
replacing soils with rivers of boulders from the surrounding mountains. Over these few days, 40%
of cultivable land and 52% of seed were lost (Chatiza, 2019), placing further strain on resources and
relationships in this populous mountain region.
Subtle Agroecologies
embodied voice – italicised – comes from a ‘more-than-human’ perspective that is embedded, and
wholly invested, in a traditionalism that holds the tripartite relationships between people, ecology
and spirit world as sacred. While our ‘voices see through different eyes’, they often converge, as if
refecting an interior conversation, with all its inherent concurrence and discordance. As the conversation unfolds, we explore how both are understood in relation to layered and complex relationships
and what this means for people farming across landscapes in Zimbabwe today.
Our starting point is a shared recognition of these interconnections, and that the rational technocratic approaches that have come to dominate through a dogmatic belief in the primacy of science
often devoid of people, and the relentless developmentalism it perpetuates, have not historically
served people, nor the ecology upon which they depend. Through this conversation that interweaves
the inherent contradictions between traditionally wielded power, patriarchy and patronage, we
attempt to arrive at a better understanding of traditional belief and its practices, and the powerful
dissonances, synergies and energies they generate.
THE LANDSCAPE AND ITS PEOPLE
We frst met when George started her doctoral research in Chikukwa in 2016. I was her impromptu
cultural guide, advising on how to dress and address others, according to our customs. As we
walked across the landscape, visiting the sacred ruins of our ancestors’ frst settlement, a dawn
‘Jickenisheni’ drumming convergence as the sun rose over the mountains, and a rain making ceremony at the top of the watershed, we shared stories. We talked about how the Chikukwa clan
came to be – how our forefather, Nzvinzvi, arrived from afar on the wing, in the form of ishwa, a
fying ant. The ishwa is our clan’s totem which, in our African tradition, we are forbidden to harm.
Long before we heard of Aladdin and his fying carpet, our tradition was rich with stories of how
Nzvinzvi took to the sky, riding on a winnowing basket carrying out heroic deeds to protect the
community from wrongdoings.
The remote enclave of Chikukwa sits at the end of the winding ungraded road before the mountains rise towards the Mozambique border. Chikukwa’s ten villages sit between a transboundary
conservation area and Zimbabwe’s once-thriving forestry belt, the creation of each having shaped
a history of evictions, land struggles and waves of cross-border migration that has defned local
politics and ongoing land tensions. Despite the imposition of the border that formally divided the
lands of the Gaza Nguni people under the Anglo-Portuguese Treaty of 1891, this now transnational
community regularly crosses the porous border for ceremonial gatherings and rituals that reconnect
its fve villages in Mozambique. As such, Chikukwans remain one clan, sharing the same dialect
and a royal family with a deep lineage, headed by Chief Chikukwa.
Together, our clan elders and the spirit medium visit a shrine in Mozambique called Maate to
communicate with the ancestors, to ask the High God Mwari for protection against threats, such as
drought, crop pests and diseases. Only after successive droughts are monetary donations collected
for messengers to take sacred seed to the most important shrines as an offering.
Fanning across the steep hillsides, Chikukwa’s villages are fed by natural springs that have traditionally supported food production in home gardens. Chikukwa’s altitude, soils and rainfall conditions, where temperatures rarely fall below 3°C, are ideal for a range of crops, from coffee and tree
crops (fruit and nuts) to vegetables and cereals. Until 2019, seasonal rain-fed agriculture was centred
largely on maize production on the wetlands alongside the Musapa River, which fows through
the Chimanimani Gap and on into Mozambique. One night, in March 2019, the alluvial soils that
made this riverine environment so productive were washed away when the arrival of Cyclone Idai
devastated the landscape for 3 days, depositing half the expected annual rainfall in only 12 hours,
replacing soils with rivers of boulders from the surrounding mountains. Over these few days, 40%
of cultivable land and 52% of seed were lost (Chatiza, 2019), placing further strain on resources and
relationships in this populous mountain region.