Dams, Displacement, and the Delusion of Development. Allen F. IsaacmanЧитать онлайн книгу.

      So desirable were floodplain plots that, in areas where the band of alluvial soil was narrow, competition for access to makande soil was intense. In the Chirodzi-Sanangwe region, for instance, a handful of powerful families jealously guarded their claims to river-fed gardens that had passed down from one generation to another.226In the delta, families residing in upland areas historically forged marriage alliances with those living near the river so that they would have access to food in times of famine.227Peasants living on the southern side of the Zambezi often traveled long distances to work floodplain gardens, sometimes even traversing the river to cultivate small alluvial plots on the northern bank.228Ernest Kalumbi, who lived near Sena, recounted that, long ago, “we would cross the river to the other side [Inhangoma]—that’s where we had our pumpkins and maize. These fields were good because they could stay wet for a long time and we would have a very good food crop each year.”229In 1961 colonial scientists surveying the delta confirmed the area’s fertility: “On the Inhangoma, the Zambezi floods ensure that the soils, which already are very rich in the principal nutrients, have a water content that permits the cultivation cycle to continue year after year without large decreases of the yields.”230

      Drawing on shared experiential and historical knowledge of local environments, acquired through years of trial and error, rural communities along the Zambezi had adapted their farming practices to the fluctuating rainfall, uneven soil quality, and seasonal flood cycle that defined the region’s growing season. The result was a food production system calibrated to the Zambezi’s flood regime, which rested on the cultivation of multiple fields in different microecological zones to minimize risk and maximize the benefits of varying soil, moisture, and light conditions. Peasants worked river-fed plots in a rotating sequence with upland fields in the somewhat less fertile mixed clay-loam soils of the floodplain’s upper terrace—known as mpumbo and tchetca—or in the rocky ntchenga soils of the surrounding savanna and uplands, which were the most difficult to farm and produced significantly lower yields than riverside gardens.231As Paulo Mayo recalled, pointing to his floodplain garden from his hillside field, in the past “we could gather crops like maize, sorghum, and millet in our fields here, we could grow maize, [sweet] potatoes, and beans in another field in the floodplains, and the third field could be rice. We did this because it afforded us food guarantees and protection.”232David Livingstone’s observations of the region confirm these assertions. He found “the country . . . fertile in the extreme” with “old gardens continu[ing] to yield after they are uncared for.”233Writing thirty years later, Frederick Selous observed that “the natives seemed very well off for food; and the soil . . . must be very fertile.”234Local officials and travelers agreed with his assessment, reporting that sorghum, millet, corn, beans, sugar, and rice would easily grow there.235

      Others confirmed the agronomic wisdom of this time-tested system. Maurício Alemão, an elderly peasant who had lived in Chicoa Velha, before he was displaced by the dam, remembered the reliable bounty of the cluster of alluvial and upland fields he had left behind: “In Chicoa Velha we could farm the entire year. In the dry season, we farmed on the banks of the river, and in the rainy season we farmed far from the river, because our riverine gardens were flooded. We grew corn, sweet potatoes, tomatoes, beans, and even tobacco. These were small fields, like gardens. But they produced a great deal.”236Carlos Churo, his neighbor, told a similar story:

      Before Cahora Bassa, each family had several fields. The number and size varied depending on the strength of a person and the size of his family. . . . On the ntchenga soils we planted sorghum, which does not require as much water. The mixed ntchenga-makande soils were better for maize, which needs more moisture than sorghum. Some people planted peanuts in their maize fields. We harvested these crops in June and July and then returned to our gardens. . . . The land near the river, called makande, was very fertile. When the river rose and then receded in June, the area that had been covered with water was where we farmed. There, we first planted maize. We cultivated beans in the same field as the maize. Beans needed something to rest on and the maize stalks served well. Nearby we cultivated a second small plot with sweet potatoes, tomatoes, cabbage, and more beans. We harvested our gardens in September and October, before the rains and flooding.237

      As this account suggests, intercropping—growing multiple crops simultaneously in a single field—was another key element of indigenous farming systems throughout the lower Zambezi valley.238It rested on the recognition that agricultural success in a difficult environment depended on peasant families’ ability to make good use of limited resources while maximizing the returns on their labor. Intercropping offered several advantages to small-scale cultivators. Nitrogen-fixing legumes, such as beans and peanuts, were excellent companion crops for heavy nitrogen-consuming cereals, such as maize and sorghum. In exchange for functioning as a natural trellis for bean plants, maize and sorghum benefited from the restoration of nitrogen to the soil and achieved higher productivity when mixed with legumes than if planted on their own. Sowing maize or sorghum in the same mound as beans or peanuts also enabled cultivators to control pests and weeds for multiple crops at the same time—thereby reducing their labor requirements.

      Just as important to local food production systems was the social organization of agricultural labor. A clearly defined gender division of labor was already in place by the early nineteenth century.239Historically, the agricultural season began in late July or August, when men felled trees in the upland areas, cleared the terrain of any major obstructions, and burned their fields, collecting the ashes for later use as fertilizer. Households with sufficient available labor might prepare a second and even a third upland plot. In October women burned whatever shrubbery remained on these plots and tilled the soil in preparation for planting. After the rains began, in November, they planted sorghum and bush millet, which were more drought resistant than maize, intermingled with smaller amounts of cowpeas, peanuts, and beans.240During the following months, women cut the surrounding grass and weeded the fields to remove parasites that threatened their crops.241With the help of their husbands and children, they harvested the grains and legumes in February and March.242Back in the village, women pounded the grains into a fine substance from which they prepared porridge, the mainstay of the local diet. This first harvest, known as tchaca, helped alleviate seasonal hunger, which occurred regularly.243

      By April the water of the Zambezi was receding, and villagers with access to riverine land turned their attention to these plots. Although typically smaller then the upland fields,244riverine gardens were more productive. A wide variety of crops were cultivated on the floodplains, including several types of beans, sweet potatoes, tomatoes, okra, pumpkins, greens, and maize, along with tree crops, such as papayas.245Women gathered these foodstuffs in August and September. This harvest, known as murope, was typically a time of plenty. In most years, growers got more than one harvest from their alluvial gardens. Fatima Mbivinisa recounted how she and the other women in her village “often managed to grow crops twice a year.”246When conditions were favorable, a second harvest might occur just before the November rains arrived.

      Another important dimension of this gendered labor process was reliance on mutual assistance networks. Throughout the Zambezi region, cultivators historically organized work groups and exchanges for pressing tasks or those that were tedious or daunting when performed alone, such as tree cutting, burning, weeding, and harvesting.247Women, especially, depended on such collective labor arrangements, relying on kinship networks and neighbors to alleviate production bottlenecks during times of labor stress. Maquina remembered that in Chicoa Velha “neighbors would help me in the harvest,” and then she would “brew phombi [local beer] and we would all have a party and celebrate.”248During the colonial period, labor exchanges provided critical assistance to wives of migrant workers, who would have been hard pressed to cultivate their fields alone. As Peter Phiri, a peasant from Inboque, explained, “This practice in the local language is called dhomba. Women brewed phombi and invited their neighbors to help them weed their fields. Afterward they prepared chicken or goat, which they served in the field.