Editor’s Note: This is Part III of a series. Read Part I here, and Part II here.

Does Costa Rica hold the secret to happiness? According to a number of different studies, Costa Ricans are the happiest people on the planet, with a longer life expectancy than Americans. Over the past weeks, major news outlets such as the New York Times and the BBC have reported on these results. One figure, called “happy life years,” results from merging average self-reported happiness (where subjects rate their happiness on a ten-point scale) with longevity. Using this system, Costa Rica ranks first, the United States is 19th, and Zimbabwe comes in last.

Another approach combines happiness and life expectancy but adjusts for environmental impact. Here again, Costa Rica tops the list, achieving contentment in an environmentally sustainable way. The Dominican Republic ranks second, the United States 114th (because of its huge ecological footprint) and again Zimbabwe is last. One could argue that happiness is linked to the preservation of nature and people’s access to it — Costa Rica has made the protection of biodiversity a top priority with its extensive network of national parks and indigenous reserves. The country also prohibits private ownership of the coastline, even forcing large hotels to run shuttles across their property to allow locals access to the beach.

We got to check out the Costa Rican health care system up close recently when Louis went to the hospital to get a botfly removed from his belly! This nasty little jungle pest bites you and lays an egg which grow into a worm-like larva. His was only about an eighth of an inch long, but apparently if left there they can grow much longer — gross! However, the experience of the hospital was very positive: the wait wasn’t long, the staff were friendly (joking that the larva they extracted was their new pet) and guess what? When we were finished and asked for the bill, they laughed and waved goodbye – it was free! Needless to say, that made us very happy.

Latin American countries generally score higher on happiness surveys, perhaps because of the cultural emphasis on family and community.

As New York Times columnist Nicholas D. Kristof pointed out, another major reason for Costa Rican happiness might be traced to a decision made in 1949 to abolish the national army and invest instead in education. The investment paid off in many ways: a more stable society free from the violent conflict that has ravaged much of Central America; a narrowing of the gender gap (a few days ago Costa Rica elected its first woman president); and a strong economy that has fostered the effective health care and social systems.

Costa Rican pacifism and biodiversity are both sources of national pride — while waiting in line when we first arrived at the airport on this trip, we enjoyed a video which proclaimed “our army” over footage of leafcutter ants, monkeys and iguanas, and “our navy” over footage of fish and sea turtles.

My family has now been living here for over two months, working on the development of a nascent ecovillage called Tacotal, and examining for ourselves what we need to be happy. Having stripped down our lives from the comforts and amenities of California to a tent in the jungle with no electricity, we’ve been slowly rebuilding those luxuries and considering what comforts are truly necessary to us. Last week we moved into our newly-built bamboo and wood casita, which we managed to complete for about $1500. Nearly all of us in the community (now about 15) contributed to making it over the past month, and it’s definitely made me happier to have a little more space and some furniture.

The A-frame casita serves as a two story sleeping and living space for me, Louis, little Lîla and baby Ren. The roof is a tarp made of a repurposed advertising banner, which works for the dry season but will probably be replaced by something more permanent in May (we see the Kotex logo directly over our heads when we lie in bed). The floor and some of the framing is laurel, a hardwood that (so we hear) is locally and sustainably harvested. The main framework, deck floor, and ladder are Costa Rican bamboo, and the walls are made of a breathable shade cloth they call zaran.

A next step is to work on getting some more solar power. At present we’ve got one 56 watt photovoltaic panel for the community, which is not enough to meet all of our needs. We’re working on the design for our own composting toilet nearer to our cabin, which will all serve as the mount for our own panel (currently somewhere on route from the United States). More lights at night and a baby monitor so we could go up to hang out in the community kitchen after putting the kids to bed would make me happy.

Among the other upcoming projects are putting in a polished earthen floor for the main kitchen, which is currently made of loose dirt (imagine our 3 year-old after a day of playing in the kitchen and the way our baby continually drops her toys—ugh!) Fixing the floor might help reduce the need for building the bike-powered washing machine we’ve been collecting materials for. We’ve got most of the parts save one key gear that has been hard to get a hold of. The rest of the community seems somewhat ambivalent about the washing machine, but I’ve got a pressing need, and that is cleaning diapers.

Diapering is a big question for many new parents, and by now between the two kids I think we’ve tried about all the options — disposables, diaper laundering services, compostables, and washing our own. With Lîla we also started “elimination communication” at six months, teaching her the sign language for “toilet” and having her use the potty at an early age. Here in the jungle, it just didn’t seem right to use disposables for baby Ren, especially when we have no garbage pickup and have to bring our own garbage into town and find a dumpster. Sign language for "toilet" has an obscene connotation here. Not to mention the fact that we’re supposed to be starting an ECO-village. Unfortunately, we’ve learned that the sign language for “toilet” also means “sex from behind” in Costa Rica….

We’ve gone through the suitcase of compostable diapers I dragged down here. So for now, I’m hand washing the cloth ones in solar-heated hot water, with bio-detergent (imported), soap berries, and limes (both from our land). We spray off the poop into a special compost pit, which after some time will be full of super rich soil. It’s what permaculturists call a closed-loop cycle. And to balance out this fairly unpleasant labor of love, we spend the money we’d use for disposables to pay a local mama to do our other laundry in her machine, so I have time for other things (like making marmalade with some of our million oranges).

For me, happiness is finding that precious overlap between sustainability and comfort, where my family’s needs are met within the boundaries of a healthy ecosystem. And that’s what permaculture is— creating positive, regenerative relationships between humans and the planet. If Costa Rica has a secret to happiness, perhaps it is in the ways it has put this ethic into practice, for the benefit of its people and its environment.

Editor’s Note: This is part two of a series. Read Part I here.

Yoga on the deck which will become our temporary bedroom

We’ve been here a month now, and I’m actually writing from a hammock with my laptop powered by the sun, underneath a pair of orange trees. This is our new “living room” in this experiment in outdoor living, outfitted with a log bench, a couple of rocking chairs woven with cord in the local style, outdoor kitchen and shower and a repurposed buoy that serves as a swing. A few steps away are kitchen and shower, cross a little bridge to the bathtub/dipping pool, and another few meters is our newly finished wooden platform where soon we’ll be sleeping. For now it makes a great yoga deck and has a sweet view across the Machuca River valley to a steep hillside dotted with grazing white cows.

A lot of folks have called us “brave” to move out here with our two little daughters, Serenne (5 months) and Lîla (3 years). From my perspective, parenting here allows me to do basically the same things I’ve been doing at home in Berkeley, but with more of a sense of purpose and alignment with my values. Whereas in the U.S. I find myself feeling like a somewhat unwilling, slightly apologetic housewife, driving my little ones around, grocery shopping and turning up the heat to stay warm, here I can take care of my family’s needs with a much smaller ecological footprint. That is, minus the impact of the plane flight here, which is considerable — a subject I’d like to return to in a future post.

Being in the jungle with a pre-crawling baby is easier than it will be when she’s on the move, as I spend much of my time with her in a carrier. My approach to parenting is strongly inspired by Jean Liedloff’s book The Continuum Concept, which is linked to “attachment parenting” and the resurgence of baby wearing in the U.S. Liedloff based her book on experiences living with indigenous people in the Amazon and observing their relationships with their babies and children. She believes that allowing babies to spend the majority of their first year worn close to mama’s body and snuggled close to her at night helps develop an essential sense of security and trust that stays with the child into adulthood. This concept of “kangaroo care,” and the idea of skin to skin contact as important, especially for newborns, has started to gain credence even in U.S. hospitals.

While the indigenous families observed often saw mama carrying her baby, she would usually have him or her in a sling or wrap so that hands could be free for work, even while nursing. Yet when mama tired of carrying baby, the extended family and community were often available and interested in spending time with the little one. This way of raising children feels right and sensible to me, in contrast to the way I feel when I’m home alone with my baby all day, isolated and trying to stay sane, and driving my toddler to and from preschool.

So far, even though the number of us living at Tacotal is small, my reality has been much closer to that of the indigenous mama, and I love that. There are lots of hands to hold baby and tell stories or show plants and animals to Lîla. The one major issue is that little Serenne’s thermostat is set to North America, so she has been really hot since being here. In the heat of the day when it seems too hot to wear her, I put her in her play gym in the kitchen and give her lots of little baths. She is just as cheerful as she’s always been most of the time, and I’ve been giving her little tastes of our bananas (we’ve harvested a big bunch from one of our trees since arriving) in anticipation of starting her on solid foods in a few weeks. She doesn’t seem to know what to do with the banana yet but is very interested in the new taste. I’m anticipating that when she starts crawling in a few months, it will be trickier as there are currently no baby-friendly floors here. An upcoming project will likely be to finish the kitchen floor, which is now dirt, and make a polished earthen/adobe floor. This will also cut down the frequency of laundry that’s needed and hopefully reduce the layer of red dust that big sister Lîla usually wears around.

I wrote earlier that we’re able to meet our needs with a smaller ecological footprint, and want to discuss a few of the systems that make that true. One major difference from life at home is being off the power grid and away from municipal garbage and sewage lines . I can honestly say I enjoy my daily visit to our composting toilet here, which is up on a breezy hillside and built of bamboo, wood, and recycled materials. It has a small area in front for pee that separates it from the poop, which allows the “humanure” to dry out and prevents bad odor. Instead of flushing, we put a few cups of sawdust in to complete our mission and close the loop (food to poop back to soil where we grow more food).

With no garbage pickup here, we are very aware of the waste we create, and in fact I’m looking right now at the border of our “living room,” marked with green glass wine bottles. Since we don’t have a fridge, we buy more dry bulk items with less packaging. We separate out organic waste for the worm compost, leftovers that feed the chickens, and citrus for the regular compost. Packaging is separated into plastic, glass and metals which can be recycled and paper and cardboard is used for kindling in the wood stove. Another ingenious little system which was put into place since we last visited involves creating building material — mass that can be built into an earthen wall — by stuffing small plastic and cellophane bags that can’t be reused into empty plastic bottles.

Stephen demonstrates how to ‘flush’ the composting toilet

Of course, a major difference from home and one of my favorite parts of being here is the lack of driving. I especially dislike trying to get two kids in and out of their carseats several times a day and fighting the traffic in the Bay Area. The road in here is so rough that you need a good reason to drive out — riding a horse or walking is actually more comfortable. With the number of folks living here, we each only need to leave every few weeks for groceries, though most of us probably venture out once or twice a week to get supplies, go to a restaurant, or visit the beach (about 30 minutes from the end of our bumpy road to the first Pacific beach at Tarcoles. Since I want Lîla to be able to learn more Spanish and have a chance to interact with more kids (there is presently just one other kid here, her good friend Jazz), we’ll be driving a bit more often when the two of them start school next month. Unless we find a school accessible by horse!

Continue on to read Part III

In a world where less than 1% of the planet’s fresh water is available for human consumption, it is curious to notice how people in overdeveloped countries choose to utilize precious water resources.

I often wonder what our grandchildren’s children will think of industrialized cultures; it is hope that inspires me to imagine them laughing. “Can you believe it?” they’ll say, holding their bellies and bursting with amusement at the ridiculousness of their elders. “They used our precious fresh water to flush their SHIT away!”

Over 884 million people globally lack access to safe water supplies – that is approximately one in eight people living on the planet whose water has been contaminated, generally by human excrement. In fact, over 5,000 people die worldwide everyday from drinking or bathing in water containing contaminants. [1] And we in the U.S. use over 5 million gallons daily just flushing away our waste.

From a health and a resource perspective, it’s hard to imagine a more inefficient system than a water flushing toilet. It contaminates water, and wastes our “waste.”

Anyhow, I digress. This blog posting was inspired by the chore of the day at the Permaculture Research Institute.

It was time to empty the composting toilet system, and I eagerly participated, curious to see how human “waste” could be utilized as a resource – quite a feat for our fecophobic world.

Here’s a quick rundown on how the composting toilet works.

The composting toilet system at the farm is simple; a normal looking bathroom, with two normal looking toilets. Just like any toilet, you pull your pants down, and empty your delivery into the hole that is attached to a chamber below.

(In industrialized cultures, that’s where your relationship with your poo ends – instead of taking responsibility for your shit, you simply flip a button and send it downstream, confident that someone else will take care of it, somewhere…).

Once the delivery is executed (whether yellow or brown), you add a scoop or two of sawdust, a carbon-based material that aids the decomposition process and helps balance out the nitrogen so that (smelly) ammonia isn’t released.

And people keep pooing away in to the chamber below, until it’s full. Then it sits for a few weeks, and meanwhile you switch to using the other toilet. If used properly with the right amount of carbon added, it won’t smell and won’t attract flies.

Simple as that.

When we went in yesterday to empty the chamber, my curiosity had mingled with a bit of dread. But I was determined; I had my gloves on and my nose plugged, prepared to feel the morning’s oatmeal churn…

Alas! I was shocked (dare I say thrilled?) to see that in less than four weeks, the excrement of forty people into a chamber had turned into a rich, humus-looking, stinkless mass – unidentifiable as human waste.

Fellow toilet compost removal technician, Dave, agrees

Granted, it had not yet heated up to the process of destroying all of the potentially dangerous pathogens found in human excrement. That requires a heat of 50-55 degrees Celsius for several hours, easy to accomplish in any hot compost pile. Once the humanure has been decontaminated through a composting process, it is essentially a carbon sponge that can act as a substrate to grow beneficial microorganisms for the soil – a valuable resource for any backyard garden.

Though I am generally in favor of decentralized systems, where we can personally observe how our actions impact our local environment, I’m not necessarily saying that everyone must process their own waste on a household scale.

In fact, there are plenty of examples of sane ways to process effluent on a local scale, such as the Ecological Wastewater Treatment Plant in Arcata, California. The facility utilizes the microorganisms on a plant’s roots to break down pollutants in the water.

Or the Living Machine concept developed by John Todd which also filters sewage solids out of water using plants and their associated bacteria.

Marin County (home sweet home!) is even in the process of piloting a very progressive compost toilet program.

These are all potential models for a semi-centralized, but ecologically sound, waste processing system.

Nonetheless, it’s pretty empowering to know that we can safely and effectively process our own waste, conserve our water for more precious uses, and convert “waste” from a problem to a solution.

And to pick up from my last posting… I feel one step closer to my steak dinner now that I know my poo fertilized the soil that grew the grass that Red ate!

Team Humanure: Mission Accomplished!

For more titillating reading on the topic, you can download (for free!) the entire PDF of the Humanure Handbook. A good book to have on hand in the bathroom.

References:

1. http://www.water.org

Related Reading:

• Phosphorus Matters

Thanks to Lindsay Dailey for the submission!

This is Red:

9:30pm

This is Red:

6:00pm

This is Red:

3:00pm

This is Red’s papa, Billy:

And this is Red, a one year old bull, on the afternoon of his transformation – from living, breathing being to food on our plate:

He spent his last day with the goats in the home pasture, while the rest of the herd was sent out to pasture so they would not be traumatized by witnessing his death.

Red was slaughtered in the loving hands of his caretaker and master; it was not very dramatic. He was roped in the pasture, and after a quick prayer quickly sliced through the adam’s apple, and held down by three (strong) men while his muscles spasmed. He bled to death. It was quick and painless, and Red was surrounded by people who knew him in life and honored the passing of his spirit.

We spent several hours cutting up the carcass into separate cuts of meat. It was amazing to see a T-bone, top side, and flank steak miraculously peel away from the carcass under the hands of an experienced butcher. Everything was cut up, labeled, and packaged to freeze, from the liver to the tongue to the legs – if not for human consumption, then for the dogs (they eat well around here).

When we finished, all that was left were the entrails, which were wheelbarrowed over to the chicken tractor. Three days later, Red’s guts are now full of flies and maggots which the chickens are quickly consuming. While the stench of rotting guts is unbearable (if you happen to walk past that section of the farm), it is comforting to know that every last inch of Red is being put to use, or recycled back in to the system. Not a cell of his body is “waste.”

Witnessing little Red’s slaughter and butchering was powerful, especially after having taken care of him for a few days, since my farm duties include taking the cows out to pasture each day.

But the moment when I suddenly felt overcome with emotion occurred around midnight after the slaughter was cleaned up, and our bellies were full of the most delicious steak I have ever had.

Geoff and I took Bluey (the cattle dog) out to the field, and we brought back the herd of nine cows, one less than usual. I was nervous that they would smell the death on us, but they were responsive and docile, peacefully walking back to the paddock where they are kept at night. They passed the site of the slaughter, and kept plodding on.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

The herd had almost reached the shoot to the home paddock, and then as if on cue, all nine of them pivoted simultaneously, and slowly turned around to stare at the site of the slaughter a few hundred meters away. Billy the bull, patriarch, and Red’s papa, began to wail.

And then I witnessed a site I never imagined – a herd of cows mourning. They lined up single file and walked to the site of the slaughter, circled around, and moaned and brayed.

Never have I felt more connected to, and thankful for, the food that I eat. As I stood there in the darkness, quiet and in awe at the herd’s expression of loss, I was overcome with gratitude for the cow that filled my belly, the grass that fed the cow, the soil that fed the grass, the microbes that fed the soil….

One of 55 eco-friendly homes nestled amongst newly established gardens

An hour or so south of the Sri Lankan capital of Colombo is the fishing district of Kalutara. Although only one of many regions hit by the 2004 Tsunami, post-disaster relief efforts here were unique in that Sarvodaya determined to use the situation to create Sri Lanka’s first eco-village.

Designed with the technical advice and guidance of world renowned Australian permaculture experts Max Lindegger and Lloyd Williams, who are affiliated with Ecological Solutions Inc. and Global Eco-village Network (GEN), the village has become a model of sustainable development.

The Sri Lankan government allocated a parcel of land situated five kilometres inland for the purpose, and financing for construction came via Sarvodaya as well as the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (AJJDC), the United Nations Environmental Program (UNEP) and the Asia Pacific Forum for Environment and Development (APFED). The combined gifts culminated in the construction of Lagoswatta – a model eco-village, situated on a gentle five acre slope bordered by rice fields, that is now home to 55 families from three villages in the area.

I was of course very keen to take a look, and so after winding our way from the coast, through small farmlets and a rather beautiful and shady rubber tree plantation, I arrived in Lagoswatta for a brief look.

Beginning in April 2005 and completed in 2006, an important aspect of of the work was the involvement of the intended residents in the construction process itself – providing an excellent opportunity to build a sense of ownership and self-determination for their future, whilst giving survivors a sense of purpose that helps them deal psychologically with trauma, loss of loved ones and their subsequent dramatic change in circumstances.

Each earth-brick home in Lagoswatta is virtually identical, measuring about 46 square metres (500 square feet) and consists of two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen and sanitation facilities. Each home has its own garden, and practical involvement of residents are positively encouraged with training in composting, gardening, recycling and also maintenance of the solar panel and battery that provides electricity to each home – something many residents never had before. Homes are also equipped with a recycling receptacle and on the edge of the village is a small recycling station where materials are separated and stored for monthly collection. The project also included a Subterra biological soakage system for household greywater.

Water for drinking and irrigation is one of the biggest problems Sri Lankans face. Construction for Lagoswatta thus included fourteen rainwater harvesting tanks to collect roof run-off, five drinking wells and two communal bathing wells.

An important aspect of design for any eco-village are those that encourage community interdependence. In addition to housing, a multi-purpose community center was built that includes a doctor’s office (manned on Mondays), library, computer room, a childcare/Montessori school centre and a playground – all encouraging community interaction and the pooling and development of the creative abilities of individual villagers. Programs assisting in social mobilization and livelihood support foster this development as well.

A boy plays in the community childcare centre

The edge-of-town recycling station – emptied monthly

One aspect of village life I found interesting was that, unlike other Sarvodaya villages, where the very first stage of development is ‘awakening’ to the Sarvodaya principles based on earth care and the ten basic needs, the villagers of Lagoswatta were somewhat thrown together suddenly at a time of extreme stress. Additionally, many of the villagers were previously fisher folk, so once moved from the coast to Lagoswatta they’ve had to take on a whole new existence. Whilst villagers on the whole largely seemed content and adapting to their new surrounds, it was clear to me there wasn’t the same industriousness and cohesion found in some of the other villages who had opted to join the Sarvodaya network out of acknowledgement and appreciation over time of the principles that forms the basis of the movement.

In other words, these people were somewhat thrown together out of necessity, rather than inspired choice.

A Lagoswatta villager harvests compost from his bin

Practical examples of this could be seen by observing the state of different gardens in the village, where some were making excellent use of their land – cultivating quite a diverse range of fruit, vegetables and herbs and developing a lovely shaded environment that is a major advantage in the tropical heat – while others were making merely token efforts.

Some villagers were making excellent use of their garden space

I spoke with a few villagers about how well their solar system worked. One man spoke despondently about how after only four years the battery had already failed and he couldn’t afford the 15,000 rupees to replace it. Considering this man didn’t have power in the shack he and his small family lived in prior to its destruction, I was conscious of how this ‘upgrade’ in their life was making them dependent on polluting technologies that were too expensive for them to maintain. When I mentioned the failed battery in a neighbour’s house, it was explained to me that the first man had not been maintaining the battery as he was told (topping up with water) and so killed it from neglect. Considering this, I remembered that that particular man’s garden was also largely non-existent, indicating either a general lack of pro-active interest or difficulty in adapting, and it made me appreciate all the more the importance of Sarvodaya’s stepped program that prioritises individual transformation at its base.

Each home has a battery that stores power from a small roof-mounted
solar panel. The only appliances for most houses are normally only lights,

a radio and/or television.

As they say, a house does not a home make. In the same way, a collection of buildings and people does not an eco-village make. It became obvious to me that you cannot just lump a divergent range of people together and call them a ‘community’. A truly successful community requires some planning at a spiritual level to facilitate cohesion – and this centres in all involved being inspired with a sense of positive purpose and collectively shared goals. Disasters like that which gave birth to Lagoswatta obviously do not provide the luxury of time for such considerations, but I think this is an important facet to consider wherever possible.

Villagers said their conditions were improved – homes were warmer in winter,
cooler in summer, and power, water and garden features were all appreciated.

The good news is that Sarvodaya’s efforts in this regard continue to this day, and Lagoswatta has become an excellent model for not only Sri Lanka but also for village development and disaster relief efforts worldwide.

Stay tuned for the next edition in this series….

The community centre is appropriate for culture and climate

The community library was spartan, but it’s a start

Composting toilets are culturally unacceptable to Sri Lankans, so Lagoswatta
utilises septic tanks for black water. Outside are rain-fed washing facilities.

A typical Lagoswatta kitchen. Some homes house two or three families, as
families would open their doors to relatives struggling after the disaster.

A children’s park completes the picture. The sign reads:

"This park is a gift to the children from the American people."

A coconut shell is an excellent, biodegradable planter.
The coir (husk fibre) is extracted and mixed with soil to become a potting mix
with particularly good water retention capacity (the fibre reduces evaporation).

All photographs © Craig Mackintosh

The world’s largest water harvesting earthworks has transformed Sri Lanka, or at least large parts of it, from aridity to lushness. This mainframe design provides biological resources that villagers can use to maximise biodiversity for personal and environmental health. In similar fashion the ‘mainframe design’ of the ‘invisible structures’ of Sarvodaya’s community network provide avenues for the free flow of permaculture information to help achieve this goal. The good news is that many villagers are making use of these resources and this potential, despite constant attempts by Big Agri to lure them, through offers of free product samples and demonstrations, into chemical dependency.

Nandana Jayasinghe (inset), Director of Sarvodaya’s Agriculture Cluster and Development Education Institute in Thanamalwila, southern Sri Lanka, took me to see several sample home and market gardens. Nandana’s work is to help build on village level independence by supplementing, but not supplanting, local knowledge with permaculture techniques suitable for their climate and culture. Over recent years Nandana has been organising annual Permaculture Design Certificate (PDC) courses with visiting international trainers, as well as many other workshops.

Nandana tells me that about 80 villages within their network are specifically practicing permaculture, and counting, whilst remaining villages almost universally reject chemical based systems due to their disharmony with Sarvodaya’s agreed principles of prioritising the health of their environment.

After months without rain, mulch dries up and is easily blown away by regular
strong hot winds. Practitioners try to plant wind breaks to help here.

A buried clay pot, once filled and covered with a rag, slowly percolates water to plant roots whilst eliminating loss through evaporation

Gardening brings its own unique challenges for every locale in the world. While many of us are looking for biological solutions to creatures like slugs, aphids and caterpillars, your average permaculturist in Sri Lanka deals with ‘pests‘ of a whole other breed. Imagine walking outside to find dozens of peacocks feasting on your crops, for example. Keeping a determined monkey out of your yard is virtually impossible, and elephants…?

The ethical basis of permaculture intersects very well with the Buddhist majority of Sri Lanka, who have a deep respect for the right to life of all creatures within the biosphere. Where a rifle would quickly become the ’solution’ in other parts of the world – where the goalposts keep getting moved on what are regarded as ‘acceptable remaining population levels’ for various species, as we grow our economies – it is not even considered in most of this country, and would be greeted with scorn from neighbours. Instead, people here experiment with other imaginative alternatives. In regards to elephants, specifically, I had several villagers tell me the only people they’d heard of being killed by elephants were those who had previously resorted to violence against them – the family of a murdered or injured elephant would return to take revenge.

Sarvodaya villagers try to learn how to get along instead.

The Sri Lankan elephant, largest of the Asian elephant species (weighing up to
5400 kg), can wreak havoc in a home garden. Numerous methods are used to
discourage their presence, from hanging glass bottles together in trees
(which spook elephants by their sight and also sound as the wind disturbs
them), along with other reflective items.

A tree house serves as residence for a guard who is tasked with frightening
hungry elephants away at night by means of flashing lights and noise.
I saw trees larger than this that had been pushed over by elephants….

Monkeys are amongst the biggest challenges home gardeners face.
Despite appearances, this monkey is not being aggressive. It is simply yawning.

Much of Sri Lanka tends to be naturally arid. Where gardens are not in close proximity to a reservoir (called ‘tanks‘ in Sri Lanka) or their canals, or even where they are, water harvesting systems become an essential improvement. Many households featured rainwater harvesting tanks, provided by Sarvodaya. On my visit not a few were disconnected, however, simply because there had been no rain for months and unflushed empty pipes attracted lizards, snakes and other critters. When the rains come again, these are reconnected to supply drinking water and irrigation from rooftop rainfall.

A temporarily disconnected rainwater harvesting tank

Everywhere I went I asked the same question – particularly of older people: "Over the course of your life, have you noticed a change in weather patterns? And if so, what exactly?" Without exception, they all respond with "We get less rain." Nandana thus encourages and educates in the use of swales, composting, mulching and other water conservation practices. Permaculture can go a long way towards adapting to the impacts of climate change.

Unfortunately composting toilets are not considered here. The concept is culturally abhorrent to Sri Lankans in general and are thus disregarded outright. I suspect this may change over time as water shortages become more acute….

A palm frond covered trellis over vegetables protects from harsh
mid-summer sunlight and reduces evaporation.

One thing you find if you travel in 2/3rd world countries is that the people there usually look at you as if you’re somehow better off than they. It surprises them to realise you’re actually there to learn – that you’re there because they have something you don’t. In this case it’s a localised interdependence that secures them against the economic and social vulnerabilities we face in a globalised, peak oil world. I have immense respect, even envy, for communities that are able to provide for all or most of their own needs. An on-the-ground realisation of this appreciation often seemed to fill the people with a renewed sense of pride in what they’re able to achieve through their own labours and ingenuity. And so it should.

A biodiverse garden in the higher altitude district of south central Sri Lanka
provides more than 95% of this family’s food needs.

Because of the hoops you have to jump through to get organic certification,
Sarvodaya encourages home and market gardeners to develop Community
Supported Agriculture (CSA) schemes instead.

Biogas

Biodigesters are a permaculture design technique that are especially appreciated – with some home gardeners managing to make a closed loop for their energy requirements in this way. Families that have enough land to keep a few cows, and about US$100 or so for initial installation, can easily supply enough methane gas from a biogas system to fuel all their cooking requirements.

This biogas installation consists of three concrete lined chambers (see pic above). The one on the right is about two feet deep. Cow manure is shoveled into water here. The slurry flows through an underground pipe into the centre chamber, which is about 12 feet deep and three feet wide. Methane gas builds up in this chamber and flows through the small hose you can see running towards the house and into the kitchen (below). Overflow from this central chamber goes into the chamber at left, where it can be shoveled out and mixed into composts.

The nice blue flame indicates the clean burn you get from methane. The waste from three cows is more than sufficient to keep this fire burning for this family of eight, all day, every day – cooking grains and other food and boiling drinking water for improved health.

A few metres away, across the kitchen, is what they had to use before the biogas installation. As you can see, the gas cooker saves a lot of work in collecting oft-scarce firewood just to see it choke their lungs and the atmosphere. Dead wood can now be composted or used in construction instead and carbon emissions are reduced. Nandana estimates there are about 60 – 70 such biogas installations working efficiently within the Sarvodaya network to date.

Continue on to read Part VII….

Plan for our Rocket-Powered hot water system for the Basecamp shower + bath block

Spending all your day gathering sticks for a hot shower is just no fun. No fun at all. Mind you, anything that results in a hot shower (or even better, a hot bath) has to be considered a priority at Milkwood. So when Nick finished converting the old ‘Sunbeam Sheep Shower’ structure (basically a new-fangled sheepdip) to a shower block with a little wood-fired, home-made firebox thingamy to heat the water for the shower and the bath, that’s what we did. Lots of stick-gathering.

The romance of wood-fired hot water quickly wears thin, however, if your water-heating system is not terribly efficient. Because this means the system requires a fair deal of wood to heat the water, which therefore releases a corresponding amount of CO2. And also results in lots of stick gathering. So Nick went searching for the most super-efficient, super-simple and super-funky heating system idea he could find, which could then be converted to a water heating system. And thus we discovered the glory that is the Rocket Mass Heater.

Nick Ritar + Si Horsely cobb around the burn chamber and firebricks to protect them

The basic premise of a Rocket Mass Heater is that the heat energy of a small, very hot-burning fire is used in a optimal way to get the utmost out of that heat energy. Hyper efficiency with minimal fuel input. Ianto Evans + Leslie Jackson, a couple of Permies who are prettymuch gurus on this subject, put together a great little book called Rocket Mass Heaters and this was our inspiration and guidebook for our project. The heat of the small fire is drawn up through a vertical heat riser of some kind, which creates an updraft and therefore causes the fire to burn extremely hot. A hotter burn means less smoke. And less smoke means more hot water per handful of sticks.

Then the hot gases in the riser is put to work – pushed (or pulled) under hot plates, past water boilers, underneath cobb benches, through thermal mass walls – wherever you need to heat. By the time the hot gases make their way out to the outside world, they are spent, and much cooler – the heat energy has been transferred along the way to whatever needed to be heated. Hurrah!

The completed system – two days work, all told

Rocket Stoves are quickly catching on in various places around the globe – because they’re so fuel efficient, for example, they’re being used in development aid projects where fuel is scarce. And because they’re super simple, they can be made by prettymuch anyone with a need, a plan and some simple tools. There’s a stash of great Rocket Stove projects that have been done around the world at RocketStoves.org. 

But back to us at Milkwood. The making of our Rocket-Powered water heater took two days for two blokes. The above diagram explains it all pretty well. Firebricks in a pattern with a burn chamber in front, topped by an insulated heat riser, topped by a small heat exchanger, topped by a chimney. The water came in one end of the system from the bottom of the water tank, then passively circulated between the heat exchanger and the hot water tank (just a normal hot water tank like you would have on your normal western hot water system) once the fire was going via simple pipes and the power of convection. A handful of sticks in the burn chamber set the fire going. Then we waited and finally turned on the shower tap and… voila. Steaming hot water for one shower. Hoo-bloody-ray.

Post-wash, the water flows into a greywater trench which waters a planting of She-Oaks (Casuarinas) downhill from the showerblock. These will, in time, yeild excellent stickwood for the fire, as Casuarina wood is some of the hottest burning wood in the world. Which is the closest we’ll come to closing the loop (in terms of energy, carbon and responsibility) on our daily shower anytime soon… which makes for a very happy shower.

A handful of sticks is all you need…

Here’s a Flickr set of the construction process – it should give you a good idea, it’s fairly thorough. Feel free to ask questions if you like, I’m sure Nick would love to wax lyrical about his beloved Rocket construction.

So viva la Rocket Stove. These things are hyper-efficient. They should take over the world, I reckon – what is a better beacon for sustainable, responsible living than a guilt-free hot bath?

 Happy Nick bathing in the glory of his Rocket-Powered Shower

**Notes on this system for safety: you want a pressure relase valve on the hot water tank (most have them on already) so the water tank doesn’t explode, and also a tempering valve on the hot water outlet (so no water hotter than 60º comes out), so that no one burns themselves during their lovely wood-fired shower.

Recent developments at Kailash-Akhara, Adi Yoga Retreat Center, Phu Rua, Loei, Thailand.

By David Perkins (Dharmadeva) – Farm Manager and resident permaculture designer and educator at Kailash-Akhara.

This report provides an overview of many aspects of creating a retreat center and living sustainably using the principles of permaculture. Short monthly updates will be given to keep our wider community informed.

Training Hall & Papaya

Summary

The location for the main vegetable garden has been chosen; an area of about 1/3 of an acre, near the kitchen and Bodhi tree. The first series of vegetable beds have been defined and sheet-mulched. In the center is a small pond and mandala of 6 circular beds, with a dome which houses chickens. There will be an ornamental garden south of the training hall for students to relax, study and meditate. A garden nursery for seedlings and young trees has been established.

We are making compost with locally sourced materials. Improvements have been made to the water infrastructure including underground tanks, pipelines, a new well, and water harvesting by roof catchment. A new facility for vermiculture, and a new access road are under construction. New purchases of more efficient equipment and some imported tools have enhanced our daily work on the land.

Gardens

A thorough analysis and design of the core area of the community helped us identify the prime location for a new main food garden. An overall area 50 x 25 meters (about a third of an acre) has been chosen to supply the community with fresh vegetables, watched over by the majestic sacred Bodhi Tree (Ficus religiosa, a member of the fig family).

Starting new gardens

Initial evaluation of the existing topsoil of this area shows good potential for vegetable production. The bulk of the garden will consist of linear beds, laid out on contour, thereby maximizing water infiltration and soil conservation. The first of these beds have been established and the initial preparation made by sheet-mulching: a very easy and effective technique to feed the soil, retain moisture and prevent weeds, using layers of cardboard, food scraps, and straw.

Aloe bed

In the center of the new garden is a feature we are calling the Chicken Mandala. Surrounding a small pond is a ring of 6 circular garden beds, with a large moveable dome which houses chickens. The birds consume bugs and weeds, while tilling the earth with the scratching action of their feet. They deposit their manure in this limited area, making these beds low-maintenance and highly fertile. After a few weeks in one spot, the chicken ‘tractor’ is moved to the next circle, and our plants go into the freshly prepared bed. In the course of a year, the dome will rotate twice around the mandala, with an abundance of food coming out of this innovative design.

A garden was previously created near the training hall, but the soil in that area would require more years of improvement before being healthy enough to sustain quality vegetable production. It will now be redefined and established as a beautiful ornamental garden where students can relax, study and meditate.

New garden beds

Nursery

Pigeon Pea ready for planting

At the heart of any productive garden is the nursery. This month we improved the existing nursery with the addition of 2 new hand-built tables. We have found the locally available potting mix to be less than ideal, and therefore created our own custom blend of soil, coconut fiber, rice hulls, sand, and compost which has already shown an improvement in germination and the health of seedlings.

January is the coldest and driest month of the year, with the overnight low temperature dropping to near freezing on a few nights. Our newborns were challenged to survive their first few weeks, but we have been able to keep a full house of about 20 kinds of vegetables and herbs going strong in preparation for transplanting to the garden next month. 15 species of fruit trees were bought from a local supplier, ranging from 1 to 3 years old, these have been repotted and will be cared for in the nursery until planting at the beginning of the rainy season.

Compost

The raw materials for our compost are sourced locally, including waste vegetables from the daily market in Phu Rua, kitchen scraps from several local restaurants, cow manure and rice straw from local farms.

The New Year holidays are a time for a major influx of tourists, primarily visiting the local National Park. The population of the town seems to triple during this time when all hotels and resorts and campsites are full. The increase in business leads to extra waste, which we gladly received, enabling us to build more compost piles and sheet mulch a much larger area with the extra materials.

In January we expanded composting operations and now have 12 active piles, each beginning at about 1 cubic meter in size. Monitoring the temperature and turning compost piles is a vital daily task in our quest to build and sustain quality topsoil in our gardens.

Vermiculture

Future worm compost factory

Vermiculture is the process of turning waste organic matter into high quality fertilizer with the use of worms. A small-scale system was established last year and has been continually operated on a trial basis with great success. This will now be expanded to large-scale production in a new facility at Kailash Akhara. This project is being conducted in collaboration with Maejo University, the leading school of natural agriculture in Thailand.

Construction of the new facility for vermiculture was begun at the end of January. Our operation will result in commercially viable products, thereby providing a source of income for the center, as well as valuable soil amendments for our own use.

Water infrastructure

The existing system of pumps pipes and tanks was designed over 20 years ago, for irrigation of the orchard. It is now showing its age, and we have suffered repeated leaks and breakdowns of this old infrastructure. Therefore the decision was made to overhaul and upgrade the water distribution system around the property. After several quick fixes in urgent situations it became clear that the diesel motor was on it’s last legs, and could not be relied on. It needs to be replaced with a Japanese 2 year-old diesel motor, which will provide many years of reliable service. This will run the pump sending water from the lower ponds to the main storage tanks at the top of the property about 500 meters away and 30 meters uphill. A pipeline was laid on a new route from the pump to the main tanks, and from there to the vermiculture buildings and the garden.

Swale 2 under construction

A new well has been drilled, which found water at a depth of 45 meters.

Roof catchment of rainwater is a great means of harvesting water, and wherever roofs exist, it is an easy and cost effective way to meet a community’s water needs. The core area has 4 buildings, the Training Hall, Dormitory, Kitchen/Dining room, and Bathhouse. An annual rainfall of 1650mm (65 inches) gives us a potential roof catchment of about 1.6 million liters (352,000 US gallons). The question then becomes how to store a useful proportion of all this water? We have begun construction of an interconnected system of tanks for drinking, cooking and bathing, including a 55,000 liter underground tank and a water tower with a capacity of 6,000 liters. Overflow from roof catchment, and rainwater in general, will be directed to ponds and swales designed to reduce runoff, infiltrate the soil and recharge the groundwater. Much work remains to be done before the beginning of the rainy season in April.

More steps in the right direction…

We have recently purchased 2 new items of machinery: a woodchipper and a generator for producing electricity as needed. The generator in particular is a very efficient motor, and will pay for itself in one year due to fuel savings over the previous model.

Finding our line through the Lychee trees

Existing fruit trees are plentiful on the land, including jackfruit, papaya, pomegranate and citrus, but by far the most numerous are the lychees (Litchi chinensis), most of which have not been pruned or thinned for years, with plenty of dead branches and crowded new growth in evidence. We have begun the task of better management of the lychee trees through judicious use of pruning saws. The removed branches will not only meet our needs for firewood, but will provide a homegrown supply of woodchips for pathways and mulching around trees.

A new road has been designed to enter the property at the south-west corner from the public road, providing easy access to the gardens and the vermiculture buildings, thereby minimizing vehicle trips into the central area of the property. Work is in progress on this road, which will eventually be extended to run along the southern boundary to the area designated for future Kula housing.

A shipment from the United States arrived mid-month, which included some high quality gardening tools. The quality of most tools we have been able to buy in Thailand leaves a lot to be desired. The closest thing we could find to do the job of a pitchfork was a kind of rake made out of welded re-bar! Many Thai tools tend to bend or break easily, or are simply multipurpose tools which are used for each and every task. We have already gone through several tools of poor design and manufacture, so the arrival of the correct tools for the job is good news for the gardeners. It’s amazing what a difference it makes to use a real pitchfork for turning compost!

In comparison to the cost in life and property that these fires bring, such systems would be extremely cost-effective, and if done thoughtfully could also be used to bring other benefits – beyond fire protection – to local populations, wildlife and the environment. These concepts should be urged upon your local political representative for their consideration, and not just in Australia. Climate change is causing many normally wet regions to begin to dry out and already dry areas to dry out even more – so we can expect the frequency and intensity of fires to escalate in coming years.

You can listen to the clip in its entirety here (17 min, 15.4mb MP3). To download the file, simply right-click on the link and choose ‘Save Link As’ (Firefox) or ‘Save Target As’ (Internet Explorer).

Fig. 24.The heat island effect. An excessively wide, exposed, solar-oven-like residential street in Tucson, Arizona absorbs the sun’s heat during the day like a battery, then radiates it out at night. This local warming effect has raised summer temperatures in Tucson by 6°F (3°C) since the 1940s, which contributes to global warming since the higher temperatures result in people using air conditioners more, which are powered by electricity generated through the burning of coal. Note that no shade trees are planted in the public right-of-way along the street, leaving street and sidewalk baked. All runoff is drained off site leaving the development dehydrated. Reproduced with permission from “Rainwater Harvesting for Drylands and Beyond, Volume 1"

My view of public streets was radically changed when I heard ecovillage designer Max Lindigger tell a story of an insightful walk he took with his grandfather. “Look there,” said his grandfather, pointing to condominiums being built on the once forested slopes above his village in the Swiss Alps. “That’s where we grew and gathered food during the war. The forests were common land, a reserve of community resources. What commons remain? Where will we grow and gather our food in the next catastrophe?”

I then looked at my Sonoran desert city of Tucson, Arizona and asked myself, “Where are my community’s forests, our commons? Where would we get our food in times of need?”

Over 450 native food plants grow wild in the intact areas of the Sonoran Desert.1 The velvet mesquite tree is one of the keystone species producing a reliable crop of diabetes-deterring, naturally sweet, protein and carbohydrate—rich seeds and seedpods in both wet years and drought.2 Thus it used to be a staple of the indigenous people’s diets. Yet the vast majority of these trees and the greater ecosystem have been bulldozed within my city to be replaced with a hot and inhospitable pavement of impermeable streets, parking lots and buildings or landscapes of water-hungry exotic plants dependent upon irrigation from dwindling water supplies. The pavement drains much of our scant 12 inches (304 mm) of average annual rainfall out of the community through runoff and evaporation. Yet, this pavement is also the excessively long corridor through which most of our food arrives. According to the WorldWatch Institute, the average American meal travels 1,500 to 2,500 miles (2,414 to 4,023 km) from the farm to the table.3 If oil supplies fueling semi-trailers disappeared we’d be without food. If the power that fuels our well pumps went out, we’d be out of water. We are creating the conditions for catastrophe.

But that can change by turning “wastes” into resources, and turning challenges into opportunity. The majority of public land—our commons—in the urban setting is our public streets and adjoining right-of-ways. All too often there is little or no vegetation there, let alone a forest. But the resources (soil, local nursery and backyard grown native plants, rainwater runoff, and people) to grow a forest, or at least regionally appropriate orchards, are there (fig. 24 and 25).

Fig. 25. The cool island effect. A narrow, mature tree-lined, and shaded street in Village Homes, Davis, California. This local cooling effect from shading has resulted in summer temperatures dropping 10°F (5.5°C), which reduces global warming since lower temperatures result in people using air conditioners less, which are powered by electricity generated through the burning of coal. Note that runoff from the street is directed to the trees that shade the street; beneficially hydrating the site, while also reducing downstream flooding. The trees are deciduous, so they drop their leaves and let more sun in during winter. Reproduced with permission from “Rainwater Harvesting for Drylands and Beyond, Volume 1"

Once established, native food plants can survive on our natural rainfall patterns without irrigation. With harvested rainfall these plants can thrive. The vast majority of Tucson’s stormwater runoff is currently diverted straight from roofs, driveways, patios, parking lots, and convex landscapes to public streets that flood to resemble rivers; the runoff then exits via storm drains (fig. 26). If we recognize that runoff as an asset rather than a liability, we can harvest it before it runs down the drain to sustainably grow native food forests on public rights-of-way along the neighborhood streets that act like ephemerally flowing riverbeds, and within public parks and on private property (fig. 27). This also greatly reduces potential flooding of downstream areas, while improving stormwater quality.

Fig. 26. A landscape wastefully draining resources away. Reproduced with permission from “Rainwater Harvesting for Drylands and Beyond, Volume 1"

Fig. 27. A landscape abundantly harvesting resources. Reproduced with permission from “Rainwater Harvesting for Drylands and Beyond, Volume 1"

That’s a big part of the idea behind a collaborative effort in my hometown called Desert Harvesters, which strives to promote, celebrate, and enhance local food production and security by planting indigenous, food-bearing shade trees in water-harvesting earthworks, and then showing folks how to harvest and process the bounty. Annual events include neighborhood tree plantings, milling events that grind mesquite seedpods harvested from neighborhood trees into delicious flour, and native/local food feasts.

Planting community roots

We encourage neighborhood activists to organize tree plantings in their communities, emphasizing hardy, food-producing shade trees native to the Tucson Basin. We provide a list of the recommended trees, their description, and some of their uses on our website. These trees are the best for the area, since they have adapted over millennia to our local climate and soils, and coevolved with the native wildlife.

Neighbors can purchase these trees in 5-gallon sizes for just $8 each thanks to generous subsidies from Tucson Electric Power Company and the local program Trees for Tucson. A community tree-planting day is set for each neighborhood to distribute their trees, and it’s kicked off with a free workshop on how to plant them in water harvesting earthworks. Volunteer crews of neighborhood residents then set out to plant trees along their streets, sidewalks, and in private yards. Within hours of planting the neighborhood feels changed for the better-more neighbors know each other. The trees show the care and commitment people have for their community, and water-harvesting earthworks can be observed by all (fig. 28). Within six years of planting the trees are full and beautiful, regularly blooming with seasonal color. Neighborhoods find that as native habitat grows back within the urban core, exotic pigeon populations start to be replaced by native bird life such as cardinals, flycatchers, cactus wrens, hummingbirds, curve-billed thrashers, white-winged doves, gamble’s quail, and gila woodpeckers. The community’s Sense of Place becomes reconnected to the flora and fauna of the local ecosystem, which is becoming reestablished, right outside their homes. Within eight to ten years of planting, the tree-shaded sections of the neighborhood are noticeably cooler than unplanted areas (compare figs. 29 and 30). This confirms what studies have shown – shade trees growing along streets can cool the summer temperatures of urban neighborhoods by 10°F (5.5°C) if the canopy shades enough of the hardscape.4 This can greatly reduce a community’s power consumption since less power is then needed to mechanically cool buildings. Plant a tree and you plant a living air conditioner.

Fig. 28. Happy tree planters and newly planted desert ironwood tree. Neighbors help each other plant trees, and thereby get to know one another and create a more dynamic, close-knit community. Photo credit: Brad Lancaster

Fig. 30. Same section of Dunbar/Spring right-of-way as fig. 29 after water-harvesting earthworks and tree planting, 2006. Used with permission from “Rainwater Harvesting for Drylands and Beyond”

Additional indigenous food trees in the Tucson area include foothills palo verde (Cercidium microphyllum) and blue palo verde (Cercidium floridum) producing delicious flowers and barley flavored seeds, and desert ironwood (Olneya tesota) producing peanut-flavored seeds. Many native plants also have medicinal value and provide craft materials such as dyes, wood, glues, fiber, and more. Native food trees in other regions might include oak, pinyon pine, sugar maple, or date palm.

The harvest

Harvesting advice is given on our website, and harvesting workshops are given in areas of the community where the trees have been planted. The harvest extends well beyond the picking of fruit and seed. We also try to get folks to realize the value of harvesting the local resources that will support and enhance the trees – such as rainwater runoff and mulch. The implementation of rainwater-harvesting cisterns is encouraged to augment water-harvesting earthworks with captured roof runoff, and enhanced water-harvesting earthworks are utilized along streets to use street runoff to passively irrigate the trees planted along the streets. This simultaneously enhances local water resources while creating a beautiful, multi-purpose greenfrastucture of flood-controlling landscapes. For more information on these strategies please see my books “Rainwater Harvesting for Drylands and Beyond, Volumes 1 and 2” at www.HarvestingRainwater.com.

In addition to harvesting runoff, the basin-like earthworks passively harvest mulch in the form of leaf and fruit drop. The mulch increases the rate at which rainfall is absorbed into the soil, minimizes water loss to evaporation, and naturally fertilizes the soil. Rather than strip mining nutrients from the trees and soil by raking away fallen leaves and fruit drop (fig. 31), we encourage folks to let this organic matter collect within the basins around the trees to naturally decompose and cycle back into the vegetation and soil (fig. 32). Prunings are cut up into 4-inch (10-cm) long sections and laid beneath the trees from which they were cut. Harvest your leaf drop and prunings, and the nutrient loop becomes regenerative. Trees grow taller and stronger.

Fig. 31. Wastefully using fossil fuels to vacuum up leaf drop and nutrients. Photo credit: Jenny Leis

Fig. 32. Beneficially using prunings as mulch to recycle nutrients back into the soil and tree, while increase water infiltration into the soil, and reducing soil moisture loss to evaporation. Photo credit: Brad Lancaster

Milling and enjoying mesquite

We live in a society that is often short on time and in search of convenience. Traditional means of grinding mesquite pods and processing other wild foods often demand more time than busy folks are willing to give up. So we sought to speed up the process and make it fun. Thanks to a $4,900 PRO Neighborhoods grant we were able to purchase a farm-scale hammermill and mount it to a trailer to make it mobile. We take the mill to various public milling events around the community to which folks can conveniently bring their harvested mesquite pods (fig. 33). The hammermill can grind 5 gallons of whole mesquite pods into 1 gallon of finely textured, naturally sweet flour in just 5 minutes. Traditionally this would’ve taken hours (fig. 34).

Fig. 33. By taking our mill to various locations it is very easy for folks to get to the events by our favorite non-polluting, community-building, good health modes of transport – foot, rollerblade, skateboard, and bicycle. Photo credit: Brad Lancaster

Fig. 34. Primitive mesquite milling demonstration at the Dunbar/Spring Organic Community Garden mesquite milling and mesquite pancake breakfast.

The milling events are typically held in conjunction with local farmers’ markets or mesquite pancake feasts to enhance the diversity of available foods and to expose folks to the wonderful flavors and potential abundance of locally grown foods. The events are organized in October and November at community gardens, the community food bank, and community centers to correspond with the late summer garden harvest and the end of the mesquite pod harvest. Mesquite pancakes served with prickly pear and saguaro syrups or backyard honey “plant the seeds” of the native foods’ delicious tastes and potential within the minds and palates of the hungry public (fig. 35). (Click here for a video of one of the community fiestas). Sale of, and feasting on, local garden produce like corn, squash, tomatoes, and tepary beans, and cultural foods like tamales, sweet potato pie, and pickled cholla buds are encouraged. Local musicians play as folks eat and the hammermill is fired up to grind the mesquite pods brought by community members who harvested over the summer. Flour goes home with the harvesters, and mesquite breads, cookies, and sauces are cooked up in their kitchens.

Fig. 35. Hunger for the delicious mesquite pancake. Photo credit: Josh Schachter

By planting, harvesting, and sharing the produce of the native ecosystem and backyard gardens these foods become sustainable parts of our daily experience, community/cultural identity, and food security. Many of these plants, particularly the natives, do not need imported resources to grow. By incorporating such strategies as water harvesting, passive mulching, and strategic planting (such as along streets or on the east and west sides of buildings) local resources are enhanced, wildlife can prosper, neighborhoods are beautified, and communities are made more liveable. By sharing and celebrating community efforts and resources knowledge is spread, the value and appreciation of local resources grows, and community ties and investment build. All of this is an integrated means of designing to thwart catastrophe, while enhancing our lives now. And the benefits steadily grow both with the trees, the relationships we have initiated with our neighbors, and a deeper connection to place and the resources that sustain it.

Brad Lancaster is a permaculture teacher, designer, consultant, and activist living in Tucson, Arizona. He is a co-founder of Desert Harvesters (www.DesertHarvesters.org). In addition, he is the author of the award-winning books “Rainwater Harvesting for Drylands and Beyond” Volumes 1 and 2 (www.HarvestingRainwater.com).

The potential of harvested street runoff 5

For every inch of rainfall

• A 10-foot wide paved street will drain 27,800 gallons of runoff per mile
• A 20-foot wide paved street will drain 55,700 gallons of runoff per mile
• A 30-foot wide paved street will drain 83,500 gallons of runoff per mile

For every 100 mm of rainfall

• A 3-m wide paved street will drain 300,000 liters of runoff per mile
• A 6-m wide paved street will drain 600,000 liters of runoff per mile
• A 9-m wide paved street will drain 900,000 liters of runoff per mile

References:

1. Hodgson, Wendy, Food Plants of the Sonoran Desert, University of Arizona Press, 2001.
2. Niethammer, Carolyn J., The Tumbleweed Gourmet – Cooking with Wild Southwestern Plants, University of Arizona Press, 1987.
3. Halweil, Brian, Home Grown – The Case For Local Food in a Global Market, WorldWatch Paper 163, WorldWatch Institute, 2002.
4. Hammond, Johnathan, Marshall Hunt, Richard Cramer, and Lauren Neubauer, A Strategy for Energy Conservation – Proposed Energy Conservation and Solar Utilization Ordinance for the City of Davis, California, City of Davis, CA Energy Conservation Ordinance Project, 1974.