Expose Yourself

Leaving Zimbabwe, we hear the Zim version of Delila on the radio, speaking in accented English about the importance of loving yourself before you try to love others. We make a stop in town at “OK” grocery store to stock up on things we probably can’t find anywhere in Moz – ground mustard, youngberry jam, celery salt, South African wine, etc. On the road in front of the grocery store, a propped up poster headlines “Man jailed for insulting President Mugabe”, and I feel watched. A taxi company lightens the mood with its scandalous slogan “Expose yourself, get a ride.”



Although the training was run by an organization called Foundations for Farming (formerly known as Farming God’s Way), whose sustainable farming principles are based in a desire to use the planet in its most natural and godlike form, the religious undertones of the sessions had been relatively tame. That is, until I was suddenly and publicly singled out and questioned by the session leader as to whether or not I believe in demons. Apparently they wanted a westerner’s perspective. Unsure of the answer he wanted, and not articulate enough to formulate on the spot an uncontroversial answer re: my belief that “demons” are a metaphorical explanation for the difficult parts of life, like mental illness and disease, natural disasters and accidents, I simply said “No, I don’t believe in demons.” No one seemed shocked, but I still felt type-cast as the Godless westerner from there on out.

I’m torn by the idea emphasized at training of “breaking traditions” in order to encourage behavior change among farmers, even if it means better crop yields. There’s always a fine line where aid and charity end and cultural imperialism begins; however, these farmers had come to learn of their own accord, and maybe their current “traditions” aren’t even based in culture and custom, having no reason or sentimentality, and are simply traditions because they’ve always been done that way. Like plowing the fields. They can’t tell you why they do it, they just do. And as it turns out, plowing in desiccated, flood and drought prone areas often leads to extreme erosion and nutrient lost.



Even through our differing beliefs, the other trainees were extremely kind and energetic, eager to get to know me. The last evening after dinner, I stumbled upon a small group of women singing and dancing lightly under the stars. The song was beautiful, harmonies so easy and natural, and they told me it was their way of worshiping God. I couldn’t understand the words, and I didn’t need to. I tapped along on my orange for a while, and was thankful for the electricity being down, so I could grin ludicrously through my efforts to restrain the quick tears. The next morning, singing their goodbyes, they asked me to film them with my camera, and I couldn’t have been happier. They were thrilled to see themselves played back, and I’ll always have a piece of their beautiful song to carry with me.