Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Saints and Labors, II

It’s now November, the scariest month in Zimbabwe, and things have been slightly unquiet in Old Mutare since my return from the States. Our ag students are restive because they are covered up with tests—entomology earlier, curve-fitting yesterday, genetics Monday, production econ and plant physiology still to go. Meanwhile, the University has announced a mid-semester tuition increase, payable immediately, and food prices in our dining hall have tripled in the last two weeks. Because one of our busses was wrecked (only 1 fatality), transport to & from town is now a real bitch: pushing, shoving, and physical rudeness rule a Hobbesian waiting-line at the bus-stop. Vague rumors hint that the V.C. (= Vice Chancellor, equivalent to a U.S. university president) might resign. Elaborations suggest that my noble dean could replace him, but Prof Tagwira is not actively seeking the post. The dean of the Theology School is said to be less reticent; she gave me some leaves of spinach, presumably not in solicitation of my (irrelevant) support. Actually, the V.C. seems quite content to me, and I see no reason whatsoever to credit any of this speculation. I just think that nervousness generates gossip—and that people are nervous because it’s November.

To share our November disquietude, we have another VIM team on campus. These good folks are from Indiana & Ohio, and their ostensible mission is to dig a latrine. (I am not making this up.) More important to me, they brought the three laptop computers that Terry Fergusson had purchased for the Ag School. My dean was ecstatic about the computers (particularly about their price), thanking me so effusively that I was embarrassed to ask for repayment (but I did). Of course the problem of allocating the laptops will be, uh, interesting; several faculty members have eyed them with more lust than Jimmy Carter ever felt in his heart. I reckon that, because it’s now November, people are nervous about what blessings they do and do not receive, so perhaps a new laptop could be interpreted (a la Max Weber) as a sign of divine favor in a scary season.

In November it’s no surprise that exploitation of the campus’ natural resources is increasing. Yesterday I came across a new camp of 6 gold-prospectors on the second mountain. These folks had no place on the river and were hacking at a quartz vein on the dry hillside. On the near mountain my trail-camera snapped photos of two hunters (one with a rifle) and their seven dogs. In official (and legal) exploitation, our fields are been plowed & disked: they await either soya or maize or both; decisions will be based on factors of economy and weather.

As November begins, the general preoccupation of agricultural eastern Zimbabwe is rain. We’ve had a few teaser-clouds, drifting in from northern convections. And Wednesday, in response to higher humidity, a Natal puddle frog called in an Ag Building sewer-drain. Needless to say, he was captured, photographed, and released. Today the skies are crystal-clear again, the frog is silent, and farmers are apprehensive.

As November matures, ceremonial gourds will rattle in local church-services while the people pray for rain. If none falls before mid-month, some folks will climb the highest hills to tiny Zimbabwes (roughly = stone walls) and petition gods brought southward with the Bantu invasions. Meanwhile, the VIM teams will praise the Lord and enjoy the picture-perfect weather.

I have started writing this blog-entry on 2 November. (I definitely should be planning lectures about Analysis of Variance, but I don’t feel good enough to contemplate Latin squares and completely randomized designs.) Halloween has passed, uncelebrated: with November hard a-coming, ghosts here were not considered especially funny. All Saints’ Day, on the other hand, had more significance, at least to me. In my last blog I tried to honor a few present-day saints by name. But anybody with sense knows that the greatest saints are seldom specifically recognized. A mother pretends she’s full so that her kids will eat a bit more. A man gives a few kgs of mealy-meal to a stranger. A cook is up at 4AM to buy bread for people whom she scarcely knows. The host of such saints is countless, and each provides a window beyond the scariness of this immediate month. And so, to heck with November fears! Come rain or no, the saints will keep right on laboring, until, for all of us, “…hearts are brave, again, and arms are strong. Alleluia, alleluia!”

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