Document(s) 14 of 19

Introduction

This article discusses how certain types of trees, birds and some patterns of animal behavior have, for many years, been used by the Shona people of Zimbabwe as measures or signals of changes in the quality of their environment. To the Shona, the term "environment" (nzvimbo yatigere mairi) encompasses all things through which human life may be sustained. These may be economic, social, religious, and ecological aspects of life.

Material used in this article was collected from the people of Buhera West in the Manicaland Province of Zimbabwe as part of an ongoing research project about the local people's past and present survival strategies.

Background

In brief, the Shona occupy the greater part of Zimbabwe, except for the southern and southwestern portions, which are occupied by the Ndebele people. They all speak the Shona language; in the past, all Shona have followed the same traditional political structure and organization.

At the centre of Shona socioeconomic activities is the land, regarded not only as a productive resource, but also as a link between the dead and the living, the present and the past. The land binds the people together. This is why Gelfand, one of the early colonial settlers in Zimbabwe, noted with some admiration the attitude of the Shona people towards their environment:

Not only must man avoid change, but he must not alter nature more than is necessary for his basic needs ... Not a tree may be chopped unless required for firewood. Nor land cleared unless required for cultivation. No one should hunt an animal except for his own family requirements. So strong is this feeling among the Shona that one entering a strange area in a forest, a mountain or a beautiful spot is not allowed to comment on it least he upset the ancestral spirits (vadzimum) of this region. (Gelfand 1972, p. 54).

Although these traditional leaders are still respected, their authority has been officially taken over by new administrative structures and officials, namely Ward Councilors and the Village Development Committee Chairperson. These new officeholders are representatives of the Zimbabwean state who assume responsibility for development activities in the villages.

This change of leadership, introduced after the attainment of political independence in 1980, was a response to post-colonial relationships between the traditional leaders and the white governments. Traditional leaders were expected, during the colonial period, to present and represent the views of their people to the white administration. On the other hand, they were also expected to report all activities (mainly anti-white activities) to the white Native Commissioners, who had full authority over all activities in the area under their jurisdiction.

Also actively involved in the new sociopolitical administrative structures for rural development in Ward Six, and indeed in other parts of Zimbabwe, are various government extension workers, but notably the Department of Agricultural and Technical Extension Services (AGRITEX), whose main responsibility is to encourage villagers to conserve the environment, and at the same time "teach" them modern farming methods.

Before the arrival of European settlers in the nineteenth century, land was a scarce resource in Zimbabwe. Indigenous methods of resource management and utilization were well adapted to conservation. The Europeans introduced competition for land, because the country was then divided along racial lines. The settlers appropriated land and mining rights, and subsequently uprooted the indigenous people from fertile land to land which was predominantly sandy and therefore infertile. The indigenous people had been used to rotational modes of resource utilization. Wild animals and a variety of plants were among the important components of food security during periodic droughts. The Shona people had also developed a good stock of knowledge about birds, trees, animals, and a wide range of other living organisms in their environment. Such knowledge was either in the hands of a few individuals or many people who varied in age, sex, or occupation. It was handed down from generation to generation either orally or practically through different forms of instruction.

This is the background to this paper on the Shona people's use of trees, birds and certain types of animal behavior as measures or signals of environmental changes.

Trees as Indicators of Soil Fertility

The spatial distribution of the human population, a direct result of colonial legislation that allocated land along racial lines, is the primary reason for the degraded environment in the rural areas. About 80% of household energy needs are met through fuelwood. About 70 to 100 thousand hectares of woodland are cleared for either agriculture or urban expansion every year. Desertification is a tangible threat to this region.

Prior to this land pressure situation, the Shona people were able to determine soil fertility, and also the type of crops to grow in a particular type of soil. This is apparent from interviews conducted in this study with elders in Ward Six, Buhera West. Below is a translated transcript of one such discussion with an elder, who was over 80 years of age, living in the area since 1932, when he had moved to the area from the Masvingo Province in the southern part of Zimbabwe:

C. Mararike: Before one cleared a new, virgin piece of land (gombo) for crop cultivation, how was soil fertility and soil suitability to crops determined?

Elder (half-jokingly): Why do you want to know this? Anyway, since you are keen to know, let me explain to you. The type of trees which grew in a place indicated to us how fertile the soil was. For instance, if there were many misasa (Brachystegia spcifornaic) and mitondo (Julbernardia globiflora), we knew that the soil was fertile. Such soil would be good for a variety of crops, but maize would do particularly well.

C. Mararike: How did you acquire such knowledge?

Elder: We learned from our fathers. When I say "fathers" I mean all the elders who were in the village. They were our fathers. We asked them many questions. Besides, before a boy could be considered for marriage, he was required to demonstrate that he was ready and able to look after a wife and children by clearing a piece of land, planting it, and then harvesting enough grain to fill a granary. This was a form of apprenticeship training.

C. Mararike: Do you still use this knowledge?

Elder: Where do you think I can use this knowledge? Who wants to hear anything from an old man like me?

C. Mararike: Earlier, you only mentioned two types of trees which helped you to determine soil fertility. Can you mention more types of trees?

Elder: Oh, yes! Where you found many mikarati (Barkea africana), mitarara (Gardenia ternifolia) and mipangara (Dichrostachys cinerea), the soil was generally poor, and therefore not suitable for crop farming. But where you found michakata (Parinari ruratelliofolia) and mishuku or mizhanje (Terminalia sericea), the soil would be well-drained. Crops such as rapoko, groundnuts, pumpkins, beans and millet would do very well!

Trees as Indicators of Water Tables and Change of Seasons

Trees are not only indicators of water levels in semi-arid zones, but also of impending rain. When mitondo trees began to have new leaves, it was a sign that the rainy season was about to start. The first rains were therefore called mvumira mitondo which literally means "the rains that give life to the new leaves of mitondo trees."

According to the people of Ward Six (this knowledge is held mainly by women), an abundance of wild fruits in a particular season is an indication of a good rainy season. Chakata, hute, and mazhanje were given as examples of these "indicator fruits". It should be noted that women normally collected these wild fruits for home consumption: therefore their familiarity with the trees and fruits provided them with this knowledge, which they shared, in turn, with the wider community.

Birds as Grassroots Indicators

Some forest birds are known at the local level to behave in ways which explain or signal certain events. When a haya bird sings in early summer, the Shona believe that it will rain within a day or two. This bird rarely sings: but when it does sing in a particular way, rain comes within a few days.

The shezhu (the honeyguide) is well known among the Shona for guiding hunters, or indeed anybody who may happen to be passing by, to a beehive. It uses three distinct calls. On first meeting a person and desiring to guide him to a beehive, it will call without ceasing "Tse, tse, tse!" until it gets to the vicinity of the hive. Then it alters its call to just one "tse" and continues with this call until the hive is almost discovered. It then alters the call to "Kwadziya, kwadziya!" ("It is warm, it is warm!"), meaning that the hive is nearby. Shona hunters say that if you do not reward this bird with some honey, it will lead you to some savage animal the next time!

Local Knowledge

The way the Shona people categorize, code, process, and impute meaning to experiences constitutes their knowledge. To them, a "life world" is the world they live in, defined by them. The everyday life of most people in Buhera West is dominated by the pragmatic motive: to solve life-threatening problems. Is this "necessary knowledge" or "discretionary knowledge?" This distinction is based on custom and habits as well as physiological criteria. If knowledge is known to satisfy certain physiological needs, then it may be considered necessary; if knowledge has been based on custom and habits, but does not necessarily satisfy physiological needs, then it is discretionary. Yet knowledge that satisfies both physiological criteria as well as custom and habits, must be absolutely necessary!

The distinction between "necessary" and "discretionary" knowledge is important because such a distinction affects:

• the form of participation in the accumulation, preservation and the methods used in gathering that knowledge;
• the intensity of participation, that is, the total labour time to which participants commit themselves in the process of accumulating that knowledge; and
• the distribution and sustainability of the knowledge.

Table 14. Necessary Knowledge Responses of Twenty Ward Six Residents Based on Information Shared by Elders.
Type of indicators	Necessary	Discretionary
Rooster as timekeeper	10	10
Trees as soil fertility indicators	9	11
Birds as heralds of the rainy season	0	20
Trees as water level indicators	12	8
Abundance of wild fruits as indicators of good rainy season	6	14

In the interview with one of the elders in Ward Six mentioned earlier in this paper, it was clear from one of his responses that he believed (rightly, I think) the knowledge, which elders had accumulated over the years, was no longer needed by the present generation. The elder had asked, "Who wants to hear anything from an old man like me?"

This response has two important implications: one on the way extension work is conducted in the villages, and another on the disregard for existing stocks of knowledge. There is, indeed, evidence to show that extension workers go out to "teach" the villagers, not to "learn" with them or from them. Yet this is a complicated reality for extensionists. At a workshop held in Chipadza Village (referred to in this article), one participant suggested that the agricultural extension officers had probably introduced crops that were not suitable for the area. In response, one elder at the workshop had this to say:

Oh, yes! That is very true! You! (pointing at two researchers who were asking questions) You are the witches! You are taking us back. You are not making us develop. In times past, my family used not to have problems because I grew a lot of traditional small grains. You are the people who are killing us ... because you are telling us to grow crops that are not properly suited to our soils. (Mararike et al. 1994, p. 31)

Conclusion

Existing stocks of knowledge need to be properly documented, to bring out more information on the substantive content of such local knowledge. Questions which require attention include: How do the people know? How is the knowledge passed on? How can this knowledge be lost? How does such knowledge become necessary? How can local knowledge be blended with other external knowledge? In this regard, how research is sensitive to the needs of local people is an important consideration, because local people (like anybody else) want to protect their knowledge.

The task of knowledge documentation is, however, limited by the fact that knowledge is often situational, or specific to a particular location: therefore, it is important that the local people themselves be involved in its use and control. Local schools and other similar institutions can play a leading role in the documentation process of indigenous knowledge, because knowledge is sequential. What they lack, though, are resources, such as the capacity to catalogue and store information. We should also not lose sight of the fact that knowledge, in whatever form, is associated with power. Conflicts are therefore bound to arise between and among interest groups at the local level, as well as between "insiders and outsiders," for the control and use of knowledge.

Document(s) 14 of 19