The Man Who Stopped the Desert
a madness that suits a lot of people
Today, at The Fiertzeside, we have a cauldron of Riz Gras, a national one-pot dish from Burkina Faso made from rice, tomatoes (we have a glut) and vegetables including aubergines, carrots, onions, malagueta chillis, and garlic, with strands of raw onion on top. Refresh yourself with a cup of dolo, a popular millet beer. Please help yourself, there’s plenty.
BBC camera operator, Mark Dodd, wanted to tell a story. The trouble was, his boss didn’t want to share it. The only way he would be able to release the story into the world was to quit a prestigious career to set up a film company of his own.
And he did, 1080 Films.
In 2007, Mark arrived in the semi-rural city of Ouahigouya to meet his friend, Ashley. The city is in the northwest of the country of Burkina Faso and doesn’t fit our usual idea of a city. With less than a quarter of a million in population, it is dependent on subsistence agricultural activity. For the population, staying alive depends on the production of millet, sorghum and leather goods, and taking a chance on gold prospecting.
In Burkina Faso, average temperatures are uncomfortably hot all year round, but there is a rainy season. However, it has done less to support the population of the country than before. The country occupies a region of Africa known as the Sahel, an area at the edge of the Sahara desert which extends to lush green forest. As the years go by, Burkina Faso suffers increased desertification due to poor land management, climate change and rapid deforestation.
It is an unlikely place for a hero.
“There is not a lot to see for the average tourist around here. Most visitors use the city as a stop-off on their way to visit Mali. So I was intrigued when Ashley suggested I visit an ‘interesting man’ who lived in a nearby village.” (Mark Dodd)
The interesting man was a humble man named Yacouba Sawadogo. When Mark and Ashely arrived at his village, he wasn’t home. They waited for him under the shade of a tree, deafened by the screech of crickets. Shortly after, Yacouba arrived on a small motorbike, carrying a precariously balanced pick-axe.
Yacouba was no stranger to poverty. As a child he was sent to a residential religious school far from home. The pupils were underfed in an environment in which only the toughest survived. Yacouba, smaller and younger than the others faired poorly. He returned home, barely literate, with farming his only prospect.
He met with an immediate problem: farming methods reliant on seasonal rainfall were no longer suited to the landscape.
In the early 1960s, the Sahel (i.e., belt of countries at the Southern edge of the Sahara Desert) was said to have been plagued by droughts. The 1960s and 70s drought led to the deaths of many people, animals, and trees, a situation Reij et al. referred to as a human, economic, and environmental crisis with effects that lasted for years. Further studies by Reij et al. revealed that groundwater levels became drastically scarce while yields for staple crops like sorghum and millet reduced and families began leaving the region. Most farm households could not satisfy half of their annual food needs through their production due to the drought nor could they meet the deficit through food purchases because farming was their primary source of income. Around the 1960s and 70s, foreign aid donors carried out a project in Burkina Faso's Yatenga Province—the heart of the country's densely populated Central Plateau. This project was aimed at building earthen bunds designed to reduce soil erosion over thousands of hectares which failed because it was conceived and implemented without the involvement of local people. The situation grew worse such that most of the people had to migrate permanently to different locations. Towards the 1980s, farmers were left with just two options; to claim back their land from the encroaching desert or lay down their tools and leave. It was then that farmers close to Ouahigouya, the capital of Yatenga Province, began experimenting with the traditional planting pits called Zai pits to reclaim severely degraded farmland.1
While other families left their ancestral homes and their way of life to seek a better future in the larger cities, Yacouba remained where he was. With several wives and even more children, he had more than thirty mouths to feed and he could no longer rely on what he knew.
He was forced to adapt. Rather than continue farming by cultivating only in the so-called wet season, he began preparations in the dry season using a more traditional and almost forgotten method of farming known as zaï.
He and his family formed a line, each about 90 cm apart from the other, and individually dug a hole with their pick-axes about 30cm in diameter. Then, they stepped over the hole they’d just dug and formed a new line of dimples in the baked, infertile earth.
Like the rain-capturing swales, described in last week’s post, Yakouba fills the pits with compostable materials: wood ash from his wives’ cooking pits, leaves, and animal dung. He sprinkles seeds like millet and sorghum, covers them with soil and waits for the rain. Between the pits, he places interspersed rocks. When the rainy season arrives, rocks slow run-off so water is available to the soil for longer. It is captured in the compost pits which retain much needed rain water, prevent evaporation, and provide a nutrient rich environment for plants, making them less susceptible to drought. It is a simple and inspired solution to growing the stuff of life in an inhospitable environment.
Although growing more successfully than his neighbours, he was ostracised by the community. He was viewed as a madman. Undeterred, he extended the use of zaï pits to grow an extensive forest which is now so large it is clearly visible on satellite images.
“At the beginning, people thought Yacouba to be a madman. I heard a lot of people saying Yacouba was mad, but today we have proof that even if it is madness it is a madness that suits a lot of people.” (The Toogo Nabba Kougri, Prime Minister of Yatenga Region, 2010)
Each year, Yacouba learned from the previous one, refining his technique. Now he builds low rock walls, channelling the rains directly to the seed pits.
“Yacouba is really amazing in what he’s doing, because he never ever stopped trying. He’s like a scientist and in every year he’s adding from his experience.” (Dorkas Kaiser, Environmental Scientist)
Mark Dodd became invested in the story, and was so determined to share it, The Man Who Stopped the Desert became his first independently produced film. Here’s the trailer, plus a little bit extra:
Yacouba Sawadogo promoted zaï through occasional market days, commencing a community education which survives to this day. It was a slow, dogged process, but by 1992, his methods had inspired a network of schools. The first zaï school, established by farmer, Ousseni Zoromé, was sited on a gravel site next to the road. Its position made it so prominent the minister for agriculture became invested in promoting the practice. By 2001, it had grown to 20 schools with 1,000 members. Another farmer, Ali Ouedraogo, worked individually with farmers, maintaining a close network to facilitate the exchange of ideas.2
By 2009, the technique had helped restore almost 300,000 hectares of land which produced an additional 80,000 tonnes of food per year.3
The tree in which Mark and Ashley found respite for the hot desert sun was no accident.
“The forest you see here today, it was a real desert before, there was no umbrage nor shadow from a single tree right here.” (Yakouba Sawadoga)
The Sahel is caught in a vicious cycle. As climate change impacts on the region, trees die. Forest loss accelerates the problem. Yakouba, with limited education, recognises their importance. His love of the forest is spiritual as much as practical.
“It is my love of trees which pushed me to invest in this forest because I know that trees can bring so much to the life of man. Trees strengthen the beauty of life.”
His forest contains more than sixty species of trees and shrubs. Yacouba maintains a diverse seed bank for farmers beyond his family and grows and distributes medicinal herbs to a population which is slowly returning to its former home. Once labelled a madmen, he is now honoured and respected. Yacouba Sawadoga has undergone an incredible journey and his technique, sometimes with modifications, has travelled extensively across Niger and several areas of Kenya.
And for good reason:
“As experts, we saw the extraordinary results his technique produced. This means that a farmer can double, even triple production.” (Ali Oudregou, Ministry of Agriculture, Burkina Faso)
Daniel Kaboré and Chris Reij (2004) reported an increase in yields by as much as 500%.
“The socio-economic and environmental situation on the northern part of the Central Plateau [in Burkina Faso] is still precarious for many farming families, but the predicted environmental collapse has not occurred and in many villages indications can be found of both environmental recovery and poverty reduction.” (Kaboré, D. and Reij, C., 2004)
Over a three year period in Ethiopia, zaï pits “were enlarged to withstand the strong downhill flow of rainfall runoff.” With the addition of nitrogen, the method increased bean yield by 250% and potato yields by 500 - 2000%!4
From dire environmental change, famine and despair, Yacouba’s story is one of hope. Chris Reij remarked that Yacouba singlehandedly has done more for soil and water conservation than all the national and international researchers together.
In Ghana, the “… adoption of zaï technology leads to significant gains in consumption expenditure, consumption expenditure per capita, and household income. Zaï technology could be a tool in promoting food security in the Ghanaian economy and, thus contribute to the achievement of the Sustainable Development Goal (SDG I and II) on curbing hunger and poverty in developing countries like Ghana.”5
In Niger, a study group of farmers visited Burkina Faso, and on return, the technique spread rapidly. Unlike more expensive interventions preferred by NGOs and Niger’s government, zaï pits were adopted autonomously. It is an affordable form of farmer empowerment in a situation which could otherwise be regarded as hopeless.6
More widespread adoption is hindered by how labour intensive the practice is. It can take an individual between 300-700 hours per hectare to dig and fertilise the zaï pits. Working teams, however, can reduce this. They also contribute to farmer education (a significant factor in empowering farmers to engage in adaptive strategies), and foster a spirit of community in fragmented and sometimes hostile communities.
For all Yacouba Sawadogo’s efforts, development plans threatened everything he had achieved. His home, seed bank and forest were to be demolished for a housing development. Sawadogo appealed to the government and the international community to support his case. Despite his warnings, the government failed to respond and sadly the forest succumbed to an arson attack. By the end of the documentary, all that hope was buried in the potential scoop of a bulldozer.
Mark Dodd never abandoned the project in which he had invested so much. He continued to tell Yacouba’s story. In 2021, he posted a Facebook note.
“After many years fighting to save his forest, Yacouba Sawadogo finally has the protective wall that for so long was promised. The opening ceremony, held a few days ago, was attended by the General Secretary for the Ministry of the Environment.
Perhaps more importantly, Yacouba Sawadogo has now been granted official title to the land he owns.” (1080 Film and Television, Facebook Post)
Zaï is now part of a range of adopted techniques utilised across The Sahel to improve food security, but Yabouba Sawadogo thought beyond security to food sovereignty. NGOs have provided expensive fertilisers, stone constructions, and genetically modified seeds which contribute to dependency. The adoption of zaï and similar techniques, alongside the generation of a biodiverse seed bank provide not only resilience for the future, but gives empowerment and autonomy to the community.
Take Away
Water capture and retention is important for productivity on our own land. I was first educated into the use of swales within a permaculture system. As the larger part of our land has been terraced, the natural slope is less extreme. I have found it difficult to design effective placement as the contours are not so obvious. I have instead used what I call mini swales to retain water for annual plantings, not unlike zaï pits. There is a particularly dry area of flat land where I would like to trial the technique in a manner which is more consistent with the traditional method. Expect a progress report!
Is there anything that you have taken away from this story?
Embers
An article in The Guardian, by the author, Colin Walsh, reminded me of the powerful impact of a well-used metaphor:
Not every life-changing moment is an earth-shattering “things were never the same” scenario. The words of my teacher formed a subtler threshold, a speech that passed by quietly in a sunlit classroom, but it kicked open a door in my mind, a door through which much of my subsequent life has flowed. (Colin Walsh)
This week, I discovered
. I was attracted to the name, as I have spent my life trying to live beyond my personal comfort zone. It is the space in which I flourish and experience a sense of freedom. I subscribed to the newsletter without really knowing what it was about only to discover some of the most powerful writing I’ve read in a long time. Author, , embarked on a pilgrimage into the wildest extremes of North America. Her newsletter charts her journey and reflection.I write from my life as a body moving through and becoming ever more intimate with the world. These contemplative reflections usher us beyond the pursuit of comfort toward our own becoming. They are one part travelogue, one part meditation on the human body, one part scholarly reflections on the human condition, and one part memoir into the study of solitude and life beyond what I once held to be necessary to be fulfilled. (Renée Eli, PhD.)
From within the Arctic Circle, she writes:
When words won’t come, we are naked. We come into the world this way, and this is how we are in our most intimate moments: naked and wordless. I have been this way since Deadhorse and the kiss of the Arctic waters on Monday. (Renée Eli, PhD.)
My own wordlessness is armour, my silence a cloak, preventing thoughts and emotion from permanence and scrutiny. I had not before seen its nascent and intimate essence.
Much of the information in this essay was derived from watching Mark Dodd’s documentary. It is available to rent on Amazon. Another valuable source for this material was the 1080 Films website.
Ehiakpor, D.S., Danso-Abbeam, G., Dagunga, G., & Ayambila, S.N. (2019). Impact of Zai technology on farmers’ welfare: Evidence from northern Ghana. Technology in Society, Volume 59, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.techsoc.2019.101189. Date accessed 18/08/2023.
Danjuma, M.N. & Mohammed, S. (2015). Zai Pits System: A Catalyst for Restoration in the Dry Lands. IOSR Journal of Agriculture and Veterinary Science, Vol. 8., Issue 2. https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Muhammad-Nuraddeen-Danjuma/publication/294089820_Zai_Pits_System_A_Catalyst_for_Restoration_in_the_Drylands/links/56be13ed08aee5caccf2efb6/Zai-Pits-System-A-Catalyst-for-Restoration-in-the-Drylands.pdf Date accessed 20/08/2023
ibid.
Amede et al (2011), cited in Ehiakpor, D.S., et al. Op. Cit.
Ehiakpor, D.S., Danso-Abbeam, G., Dagunga, G. & Ayambila, S.N. (2019) op. cit.
Wouterse, F. (2018) Empowerment, climate change adaptation and agricultural production: evidence from Niger in Wouterse & Ousmane Badian (eds.) Fostering transformation and growth in Niger’s agriculture sector. Wageningen Academic Publishers. https://brill.com/edcollchap-oa/book/9789086868735/BP000004.xml. Date accessed 21/08/2023
Thank you for this inspiring article. It is hard for the younger generation to have hope when there is evidence of so much climate change. But my 18 year old daughter finds hope in your articles, and also a lesson in carrying on despite opposition.
Saf,
You have moved me with this story, and I thank you. Thank you for your own devotion to life beyond the comfort zone. . . .