My initial thought was to write a professional blog on the process of starting a community garden on the grounds of my international school in Abuja, Nigeria. However, after more reflection, I realized that my experience has more to do with African culture, than with international teaching.
I saw no reason not to try planting a garden. I knew colleagues already had their own container gardens on verandas, and as soon as the rainy season started in earnest, I wouldn't even have to worry about watering. The school already had some beds prepared, although they needed some work. Termites had eaten away the wooden border, and quack grass had lodged itself into the hardened red dirt. But this wasn't to be my private garden. When another staff member showed some interest we started to make a plan. Who else was interested? Could we have students involved in the garden throughout the school?
I was surprised at the lack of positive response from the staff, who were quick to point out the problems: it had been tried before and abandoned; no one took charge of weeding and watering; there is too much sun; there are no seeds available here and you are prohibited from bringing them into the country from abroad. I had enlisted a team of high school students to help as part of their Design class, but I had not anticipated the lack of enthusiasm and support. The way I saw it, the fact that the school employs a small army of grounds keepers and gardeners who are hardly overworked, and the abundance of sunshine, were pluses when it comes to growing vegetables and flowers. And to make a point about the needed seeds, I planted some beans and popcorn from the supermarket. I still believed I could make a go of it and started collecting scraps for compost.
But I still need the administration's permission and blessing. It turned out that the compost was my downfall. The Head of School called it smelly, and the HS principal assured me that it would attract rats. My plans were put on hold because they didn't fit in with the vision of the school. What that really meant was: it didn't fit with the HOS's vision of the gardens of Versailles. He asked for a bigger plot with more beds for showy flowers like roses and pansies. It was unfortunate that the new location stood mostly in shade. The Design students and I came up with a new plan but had difficulty generating genuine enthusiasm for a project that had suddenly come under someone else's command.
Under new command, the garden plans moved quickly. The cement truck is coming next week, and our HOS will choose the plants himself before we break for the summer. Meanwhile, I turned my attention back to my original project: weeded and hoed the beds, mended a very leaky hose, and planted some seeds I had taken out of a local pumpkin. I was fortunate that my planting coincided with the start of the rains, and my pumpkins are looking healthy. Far from being a community garden, it is more like my secret garden. The only other staff that know of it are the custodians who use the hose to clean their mops and hang up their uniforms to dry. Although, I do believe that, if my pumpkins grow to full size, news will get out, and I will be able to involve others in the joy of planting and growing.
It does go against the grain here - this need to do your own projects, get dirty and create something yourself. Where as in other parts of the world everyone is running off to the DIY megastores and nurseries, here you pay someone to do the project...or even better, get someone who is already on your payroll to do it to keep them busy.
Surprisingly, I learned the same lesson with my garden as Jon did at the golf course. Just as I am not expected to create my own garden, Jon is not expected to golf without help from two or three caddies. They wait for him as he gets out of the car and compete for his business. They carry his bag, retrieve his balls and hand him each club. Jon has tried to sneak into the club unseen in order to have a quiet round of gold without the large entourage, but it is just not how things are done here. On the weekend, or over the holiday, I sneak on to campus to visit my secret garden like I am doing something clandestine.
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