Speedy

Monday 1st March (finished Tues 2nd)
This morning I did the basic version of the basic bag garden workshop in two hours flat.

Find small sack, cut top and bottom off a plastic bottle, ask my translator to turn off his phone (unsuccessful as he kept turning it on again and doing odd bits of business involving sending runners out for phone cards, copying numbers onto slips of paper, and writing long text messages). Five minutes.

Introduce myself and ask the class for their names and roles. I used to skip this sometimes but now realise I was probably being rude. (Class members include cooks, gardeners, the cowman, cleaners, the gatekeeper, the water manager.) Five minutes.

Show diagrammes and photos of various sacks in use, including some recent photos from gardens started in October during or after my workshops. An immediate comment is that this would be useful for people with very little space. Five minutes.

Invite consideration of location for the sack and get thoughtful responses with regard to protection from goats, chickens and children; and proximity to the house for ease of harvesting and watering. I add the importance of a mixture of sun and shade, drawing attention to the tree trunks in some of the photos of productive sacks. Five minutes.

Troop out into the school garden, which has some undistinguished flower beds, a few cabbages and a lot of dry maize stalks still standing. Somebody comments apologetically that they should be preparing to plant again. The class has chosen a good spot, under an avocado tree and out of sight from the classrooms. Filling proceeds quickly. I've told them we're using a 25kg sack for speed but that 50kg is better. The volcanic soil yields plenty of small stones for the core; partly rotted manure is playfully mixed into the soil by many hands; mature vegetable compost is brought and added as further soil is excavated; a eucalyptus sapling is felled and chopped into three stakes (I've stopped being sensitive about cutting down young trees, though when he was translating for me Baptiste did laugh ruefully about how the tree bleeds sap); old banana leaf is shredded to make twine to pull the stakes snugly up against the sack. While they work I spot and collect samples of the three kinds of leaves I'm going to recommend for making liquid fertiliser; my translator, who's a teacher not a gardener, is surprised to see me tuck the samples into my pocket. Forty minutes. One hour gone.

Go back into school dining room, which is our classroom. Wait for second half dozen class members. Are they coming or have they had to get back to work? They're coming. Select next batch of visual aids. Twiddle virtual thumbs. Ten minutes.

Any questions about what we've just done? They want to know straight away about planting. Referring back to the pictures shown at the beginning, I say there are many choices but also some guiding principles. I never know whether that distinction is understood, but it's important to me. Heavy or rambling plants such as cabbages or courgettes at ground level; tall plants with heavy fruits, such as tomatoes or aubergines, on the top where they can be staked; cut-and-come-agains - such as green onions, green celery, spinach – and leeks best for the sides. Five minutes.

Let the group choose the seeds. I have explained that my stock is for several groups and I can give them only ten packets. Steering their choices reinforces the principles outlined previously. Illustrated seed catalogues brought from home fill the gaps between my vocabulary, my translator's vocabulary, the names in French on the seed packets, and the students' knowledge. I wait for them to reach a point of agreement on which to plant in the three locations in this first sack. (They have already said they like the technique and won't stop at one.) I set aside the three choices, and half a dozen more packets. They choose one worker to take charge of the stock. Ten minutes.

Diversion. I was about to give method and recipe for liquid plant food. But there are urgent requests for advice on dealing with pests. What is my view about commercial pesticides (misleadingly called 'medicaments' in French)? I learned only last week that the warnings about waiting before consuming a sprayed crop are omitted from the small quantities sold locally, if indeed they reach the African distributors at all. 'Since you ask my opinion,' I say, 'I will tell you I don't recommend using such products, though I know that sometimes one is desperate to get rid of the pests at any cost. If you do use them, try to wait a week before eating the sprayed vegetables.' Of the organic techniques I am routinely teaching, this brewing of pesticides is the one in which I have the least confidence, but I don't say that. I do say I have tried some of the recipes on my own crops with mixed success. (Memo: find the French word for aphids.) Still, I share what information I have, describing the method and various ingredients. I did have a good report from the CGFK workers of the effectiveness of a concoction of tomato leaves in dealing with caterpillars, so I don't feel too much of a fraud. These students are full of enthusiasm to try various recommended plants. I add tobacco to the list. Ten minutes and time is getting tight.

Back on track. Liquid feed, called plant 'tea' on the teaching materials, is made from three kinds of leaves. These are represented in the samples I collected outside, before the rain cloud came down from the extinct volcano which is our backdrop. When I mention the leaves of leguminous trees as one of the categories, the cowman tells us such leaves are often fed to cows and goats. 'Now I expect you will start to laugh', I tell the class, introducing the subject of using human urine in compost or directly in plant food. But they don't. It is already common practice hereabouts to add one part of urine to two of water for feeding potatoes, they tell me. I've no idea why potatoes should have been singled out. They say the urine should be two weeks old, which is the same age as the plant tea brew before it's ready to be diluted and applied. Ten minutes.

What else can I cover? Oh, I've forgotten to talk about finishing the sack. They need to cut the holes and plant the seeds after I've gone. I had thought we might get the holes cut together but it's still raining and not likely to stop now till mid afternoon at the earliest. I offer to leave the file with six organic techniques if somebody has a flash drive. My translator produces one and the transfer is made. Five minutes.

Time to come to a close. One or two students are nodding. I take a final question or two then wish the class well. Will I come back to see how they've done? I really don't know, but i will if I can. I am formally thanked. They don't seem in a hurry to leave. Two hours are up and it's 12.45.

Lunch will be at one, we've been told. I go to the head's ofice and wait with Antoine. No sign of food. We wander round the grounds, cold and damp. Still no sign of food. It's eventually ready at 2.30. Well, the cooks weren't cooking, they were making a bag garden.

This is where they should have been.