Ten Years down the Road …… a reflection and renewal (2005)
Vision Acres to Van Vadi
By Bharat Mansata
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In Native Millets in Traditional Poly-culture: In our region, the local millets, grown on well-drained uplands, are mainly cultivated by adivasis living in hilly terrain, for their self-consumption. The most popular is Nagli (nacchni/ragi) or Finger Millet. It is highly nourishing, easily digestible, and makes delicious bhakris! (thin, flat breads) At Van Vadi, we have two kinds of Nagli. One, the common red variety, and the other called ‘bhoori’ (or fair) nagli, which is rarer.
Vari (Common Millet or Proso Millet) is much favoured by the local elders, who consume it on days of upvaas (a religious semi-fast on a controlled diet.) Kangu, or Fox-tail Millet, is yet a third kind, which makes a delectable kheer, cooked with milk and jaggery. We grow all three of them.
Mixed cropping is the common practice for growing millets. On our land, we usually inter-crop these with black (and/or white) sesame and various vegetables, particularly gavar and chauli, both leguminous species that ‘fix’ atmospheric nitrogen in the soil and thus ‘stimulate’ the growth of the other crops. Zendu (or marigold), planted on the plot edges, inhibits the reproduction of insect pests.
Nagli is apparently one crop that is least affected by the vagaries of the monsoon, including deficient or excessive rain. After ‘transplanting’ the nagli seedlings (by just laying them flat on a ploughed field!) even one good shower is often enough for them to establish their roots. Within two weeks, the young nagli plants stand erect on their own! Sowing early, however, is critical. If this is delayed, and the monsoon intensifies rapidly before the tender seedlings have set root, they are prone to get washed away by heavy showers, or rot on site. We lost over half our current 2005 crop of millets for this reason. Many adivasis too were similarly affected.
Tree Plantings: A number of trees have been planted by us in the vicinity of our old house, and in the distant clearance near our newer bamboo house. These include Mango, Sitaphal, Jambul, Drumstick, Cashew, Neembara (mainly gavti), Coconut, Banana, Papaya, Guava and lesser numbers of Jackfruit, Chickoo, Pomegranate, Ramphal, Awala, Lime, Bamboo, Tamarind, Karanj... Also a few Peepal, Banyan, Champa, etc. Recently, a new orchard plot was laid near our open well.
Earlier, our plantings were more scattered. Their survival rate was poor, because of difficulty in watering during peak summer, but also due to browsing by stray, intruding village cattle. However, some saplings are fine, though growing slowly because of the shade cast by surrounding forest trees. The species that can survive with less (or zero) irrigation are jambul, drumstick, bamboo, mango (planted from seed), sitaphal, cashew… But these yet need protection from cattle while tender. Some years ago, we had also planted a few hundred forest species, many of which were medicinal. Forest zones that were already very dense, were left undisturbed to grow as sacred groves of wilderness and natural diversity. It is relevant to add that while our adivasi workers are pretty good with their traditional crops like millets and rice, they lack the experience of nurturing fruit/nut trees to fruition.
This is perhaps because in the past they have usually had an abundance of fruit/food trees growing naturally in adjacent areas and forests, without any assistance of man. In particular, a very common error that even seasoned farmers often make is to water a young, growing fruit tree near its trunk, instead of watering near the outer lateral reach of its spreading root system (about as far as the overhead canopy). The latter encourages the roots to spread and become self-reliant more quickly by accessing a much greater volume of soil space for moisture and nutrient needs. Similarly, mulching is more needed near the outer lateral reach of the ‘root crown zone’, where irrigation is provided.
Relations with Local Villagers
When we bought the land, we continued to ‘let’ the adivasis and other villagers visit and collect ‘minor forest produce’. (For several years, there was no choice, as there was no visible boundary!) Our only request/rule was that they should not log entire trees, or disturb the saplings planted by us. We also ‘prohibited’ hunting on the land, and explained to villagers that such a practice is virtually wiping out entire species, which they can also see. Thus, in years of serious famine, when cultivated food crops are scarce to come by, they may have little left in the forest as well.
On the whole, we have been fortunate to have the co-operation of our neighbouring villagers, without which not even half our trees would have remained standing. But with the putting up of our protective boundary hedge, the free movement of the locals into or through the land has been restricted. Though they can still enter through any of 3 gates (without padlocks), their cattle can no longer wander and graze at will.
While most of the adivasis remain friendly and understanding, we have been contemplating how best to strike a fair balance between forest protection and the access of local villagers to reasonable needs. A possible solution to this classical dilemma between narrow self-interest and a more inclusive vision is to allow controlled access to the local villagers under a mutually beneficial arrangement. For in the long run, without local support, our energies would fritter away in policing the area, and we might as well forget any dreams of an alternative, self-reliant, peaceful community evolving on the land.
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