Article from the Mercury, 27 July 2016.
By Colleen Dardagan
GOATS in the valley of the Mpofana River, near Tugela Ferry, deep in rural KwaZulu-Natal, eat cardboard and dig for roots to fill their bellies.
The land is dry, just stones and red dust. Here and there the skulls and bones of dead cattle lie in sad heaps. They didn’t die of thirst, the women say. They starved to death.
Along the gravel road, blue drums are grouped at intervals to hold the water supplied by tankers once a week to the scattered villages.
The drought that has gripped the province for more than two years is starkly evident in the Msinga mountains.
Two white tents shimmer in the winter sunlight. Inside the first, the brightly dressed women thank God and a team whose help and support they say has meant their families are fed and clothed, and their children are going to school.
In the second, in sharp contrast to the dry landscape outside, tables groan under the weight of plump purple cabbages, firm tomatoes, onions, and white-veined bunches of spinach that ooze moisture from their stalks. From under the lids of pots, the warm smell of cooked chicken wafts over the assembly.
The women admire each other’s produce, comment on the prices of the bags of tomatoes, and impress on the organisers that the chickens are not for sale, but rather an umnikelo (offering) to be shared at the conclusion of the morning’s programme.
Avrashka Sahadeva from the Farmer Support Group proudly tells Network that this is the 6th annual Msinga Food and Nutrition Fair in Nhlesi, high in the mountains above Keates Drift.
The support group operates out of the University of KwaZulu-Natal’s School of Agricultural, Earth and Environmental Sciences in Pietermaritzburg. The theme for this year’s fair was “From seed to Plate”.
“We are highlighting the importance of each household growing their own food – the journey of planting a seed and then caring for it until it is ready for harvesting.”
Combining the indigenous knowledge of saving seeds and the technical know-how of seedling production was all about promoting self-reliance among these deep rural villages, Sahadeva said.
“We have trained hundreds of farmers – mainly women – on food security and how to be business- savvy through the sale of the excess vegetables and crops they grow.”
As the group of women, like sunbirds among the flowering aloes, meander to view the lush vegetable garden, three men leaning on their sticks in the shade of a sparse tree pass the time of day.
“It’s very hot,” they say. “But the rain is coming.” “When?” we ask. “Angazi (we don’t know),” they counter with a sad, collective shake of their heads.