44
Subtle Agroecologies
the springs [as the keeper]. But it was because of the clearing in water catchment areas, and due
to lack of knowledge. People were just cutting trees for farming – it was bare. There was much
less water. The history and links were lost as people died – and the new owners didn’t have that
understanding. It was not just new people coming in. Some were not respecting the elders. Then
[in the 2000s] they took advantage when the Chief passed away – some took other peoples’ felds,
and cut down trees, and even destroyed the contour ridges …They didn’t value what we had built.
What is described here began in the post-independence period characterised by the rapacious
liquidation of natural assets, when freedom farming became commonplace as an expression of
popular resistance to customary coercion and state control (Mukamuri, 1995a) and the interrelated struggles for rural authority. Migration undoubtedly led to changing cultural norms governing social–ecological relationships and associated practices. But so too has the loss of farming
knowledge as a result of earlier (semi-)proleitarianisation, beginning with colonial interventions
and evictions into the present day. With a continuation of these colonial productivist logics that
aimed to project the modernity of a newly independent Zimbabwe, the ‘liberation initiatives have
found it very diffcult to ‘unthink’ the epistemologies created by others’ (in Murisa and Chikweche,
2015: XX). These factors have combined to fundamentally alter social–ecological relationships and,
with it, the land-use practices that continue to shape change in Chikukwa. 5
Where Chikukwa’s permaculture-inspired projects and programmes sought a somewhat pragmatic and purposive approach, we both wonder whether something fundamental was missed with
regard to the human–nature spirit connections. Or maybe the community was resistant and unwilling to hear anything of traditional ways, that is until they were visited by the cyclone over those
three destructive days of March 2019.
Yes, this is possible. So, in an attempt to reconnect people through our peace and sustainable
farming programmes, I began an Indigenous Knowledge Systems (IKS) initiative, as a response to
the erosion of knowledge, landscape and trust, including declining trust in our traditional leadership. This initiative aims to re-engage the community in the preservation of bio-cultural diversity,
through an ongoing exploration that accepts the dynamic nature of traditions and practices, and
the power inequities that can be engendered, to begin a conversation about the changes people
want.
Based at an open-sided thatched meeting house, the initiative aspires to map sacred places alongside keystone species, and to revalue knowledge about indigenous plant lore, ritual and healing
practices. This includes the introduction of elements of mindfulness artfully blended with cultural
thought and practice. These seemingly innocuous processes nonetheless meet some resistance.
In times of change and uncertainty, it also aspires to bridge our religious, political and generational divides to improve understanding, to repair community cohesion in the face of more recent
threats and to restore the community’s deep connection with our spirit ecology.
As the community seeks to make meaning from the devastation, we turn to deep-rooted questions of what has been lost and how to rehabilitate not only the landscape, but the community’s
connections with the nature spirits.
ARRIVING AT PLACE
So it was, in March 2019 and within days of the passing of Cyclone Idai that isolated the community
from the outside world for 2 weeks, that two strangers appeared on foot with a message.
Each through their dreams had been guided, like wise men from afar, to visit with Chief Chikukwa
and instruct him to prepare a ceremony, involving the surrounding Chiefs, to appease the nature
5 As a result of these population and resource-use pressures, the steeply deforested slopes were increasingly unable to
retain their soils and nutrients. The lack of infltration resulted in poor groundwater storage and erosion, with large gullies
beginning to open up and channelling fast-fowing water and landslides down towards homesteads and villages, resulting
in consistently poor harvests.
Subtle Agroecologies
the springs [as the keeper]. But it was because of the clearing in water catchment areas, and due
to lack of knowledge. People were just cutting trees for farming – it was bare. There was much
less water. The history and links were lost as people died – and the new owners didn’t have that
understanding. It was not just new people coming in. Some were not respecting the elders. Then
[in the 2000s] they took advantage when the Chief passed away – some took other peoples’ felds,
and cut down trees, and even destroyed the contour ridges …They didn’t value what we had built.
What is described here began in the post-independence period characterised by the rapacious
liquidation of natural assets, when freedom farming became commonplace as an expression of
popular resistance to customary coercion and state control (Mukamuri, 1995a) and the interrelated struggles for rural authority. Migration undoubtedly led to changing cultural norms governing social–ecological relationships and associated practices. But so too has the loss of farming
knowledge as a result of earlier (semi-)proleitarianisation, beginning with colonial interventions
and evictions into the present day. With a continuation of these colonial productivist logics that
aimed to project the modernity of a newly independent Zimbabwe, the ‘liberation initiatives have
found it very diffcult to ‘unthink’ the epistemologies created by others’ (in Murisa and Chikweche,
2015: XX). These factors have combined to fundamentally alter social–ecological relationships and,
with it, the land-use practices that continue to shape change in Chikukwa. 5
Where Chikukwa’s permaculture-inspired projects and programmes sought a somewhat pragmatic and purposive approach, we both wonder whether something fundamental was missed with
regard to the human–nature spirit connections. Or maybe the community was resistant and unwilling to hear anything of traditional ways, that is until they were visited by the cyclone over those
three destructive days of March 2019.
Yes, this is possible. So, in an attempt to reconnect people through our peace and sustainable
farming programmes, I began an Indigenous Knowledge Systems (IKS) initiative, as a response to
the erosion of knowledge, landscape and trust, including declining trust in our traditional leadership. This initiative aims to re-engage the community in the preservation of bio-cultural diversity,
through an ongoing exploration that accepts the dynamic nature of traditions and practices, and
the power inequities that can be engendered, to begin a conversation about the changes people
want.
Based at an open-sided thatched meeting house, the initiative aspires to map sacred places alongside keystone species, and to revalue knowledge about indigenous plant lore, ritual and healing
practices. This includes the introduction of elements of mindfulness artfully blended with cultural
thought and practice. These seemingly innocuous processes nonetheless meet some resistance.
In times of change and uncertainty, it also aspires to bridge our religious, political and generational divides to improve understanding, to repair community cohesion in the face of more recent
threats and to restore the community’s deep connection with our spirit ecology.
As the community seeks to make meaning from the devastation, we turn to deep-rooted questions of what has been lost and how to rehabilitate not only the landscape, but the community’s
connections with the nature spirits.
ARRIVING AT PLACE
So it was, in March 2019 and within days of the passing of Cyclone Idai that isolated the community
from the outside world for 2 weeks, that two strangers appeared on foot with a message.
Each through their dreams had been guided, like wise men from afar, to visit with Chief Chikukwa
and instruct him to prepare a ceremony, involving the surrounding Chiefs, to appease the nature
5 As a result of these population and resource-use pressures, the steeply deforested slopes were increasingly unable to
retain their soils and nutrients. The lack of infltration resulted in poor groundwater storage and erosion, with large gullies
beginning to open up and channelling fast-fowing water and landslides down towards homesteads and villages, resulting
in consistently poor harvests.