The night was pitch dark and the road was chronically bumpy. Unlike me, my brother Msonobari is a fast driver and was hurtling down the murram road as if he was practicing for the Safari rally. I was leaning on the cold window, half-asleep.
Tete Mozambique – Pedro’s tiny boat dugout looks like a brown ant against the expansive blue backdrop of the lower Zambezi River. He is twenty years old and although his hair is black, fluffy and plenty, the weary lines around his brown eyes make him look like he was born in 1976 and not 1996.
Arriving at customs on the Rwandan border I as always felt a slight trepidation handing over my dog-eared passport with an innocent smile, acutely aware that even if my visas are in order, I don’t look like a likely wrong-doer and I have committed no crimes, I am at the mercy of officials that have never met me and can refuse me entry if they see fit.
Juvi felt dizzy. He wasn’t hungry because he had just eaten a sumptuous meal of tilapia and ugali, prepared by his sister Lola, who was without the best cook not just in the family but the entire country.
Here is a shocking truth – One metric tonne of urea costs about US$ 90 in Europe, US$ 500 in Western Kenya and US$ 700 in Malawi. These are not my words. They are on page 260 of the first ever report on the status of the World’s Soil Resources.