Issue link: http://latinschool.uberflip.com/i/96437
I look down the rows of young seedlings, noting the spacing, the soil preparation and the germination rates. It could be soybeans in Iowa, but this field is different – it is a field of cowpea seed in Alto Molocue, Mozambique. The young agronomist, Margarita, steps carefully between the rows, eager to show us the next field and ask in her accented English about a leaf disease she has spotted. In the 90-plus degree heat, I am grateful for my water bottle and the brim of my Cubs hat. My definition of community exploded three years ago. I had worked in agriculture in the U.S. for almost two decades when I was asked by a large U.S. foundation to help with its strategy for agriculture in sub-Saharan Africa. Little did I know then that within a year I would leave the corporate world to join this new community, helping seed entrepreneurs in Africa. Navigating the Loop and Near North has now been replaced by visits to BoboDioulasso in Burkina Faso, Ambo in Ethiopia, Busia in Uganda, and rural areas in 10 other countries. The learning curve is relentless, the people are amazing, and the hospitality is ever-present and genuine. The owner of the field I now stand in is Bakir Lozane, the brains behind a successful demining business. (Yes, a business that removes land mines!) Looking ahead and realizing that the demining business in Mozambique is declining, 15 years after the end of the devastating civil war, he is diversifying and has started a seed company. He is truly a pioneer, as only 10 percent of the seed planted in Mozambique is high quality, improved seed. We laugh about the fact that both of his professions require working with the soil, and the irony of this does not escape either of us. I am deeply humbled by this work and the people who do it. Without Western advantages such as crop insurance, and often without mechanization or irrigation, these entrepreneurs produce thousands of tons of improved seed, sold in small, 1 kg packs to local farmers, many of whom are women. The work is high risk, due largely to drought, but also to the occasional baboon or hippo. My twins, now seniors at Latin, have an expanded sense of their own community, too. While they have long known about U.S. agriculture, their world has now grown to encompass stories about climbing beans in Rwanda, hybrid sorghum in Mali and cassava in Kenya; stories which they have heard from me, and from African scientists, sitting at our kitchen table in Chicago. Not content to watch from a distance, they elected to spend last summer in Africa, teaching English at a school in Rwanda and then working at an orphanage in Kenya. They amazed me with their ability to quickly adapt, like young plants, to new and extremely different surroundings. Community is truly wherever we find it, and sometimes where we find it is beyond the farthest reaches of our imaginations. "Little did I know then that within a year I would leave the corporate world to join this new community." Aline working with farmers in Mozambique; a boy protecting his family's rice seed field in Burkina Faso from birds; with women farmers in Mali. Latin School of Chicago 17