I'm a real farmer now!

The planting.
The cool earth makes its way between my toes as I tread down the long rows. I loosen my grasp to allow the beans to gently and steadily begin their journey from my hand to the land. I swing my arm back and forth, back and forth. I travel down one long row and up the next, down and up, down and up. Get more seeds, then down and up again. Repeat.
Break for chai.
Let the plowing begin.
The teacher needs a teacher! I have found one; Jessica, who is well into her 60s, maybe even 70! I watch as she lifts the jimbe and swings it down. It cuts through the now soft soil. In one swooping motion the land is sliced and laid as a protector over the seeds.
My turn.
Over and over again I raise my jimbe and swing it down, bringing with it the soil. I tuck in the seeds so they will be comfortable until they spring into life. I praise the Lord for the overcast sky that is providing me with some relief from the heat. "Wow! Anna is strong. Wow! Very special teacher! Anna, my friend, she is good worker" I hear my friend James say. I dig and dig. I can feel a blister forming on my palm. I keep digging to the beat of Jessica singing. I dig and dig and dig. We have now reached the final row! Dig and dig and dig...
Now, I am a real Kenyan farmer (the teachers would say I can now marry a Kenyan because I know how to farm, but I think I will leave that be!)


I really love farming! My body felt good working hard knowing that what I was doing was going to produce food that will nourish my body. Kabula is a big farming community. Everybody has a shamba (farm in Kiswahili). This past weekend we had Friday and Monday off of school. When we returned today every teacher I talked to had been working in their shamba over the weekend. Below are some pictures of us farming!