Back to the Bush

Research assistant Alex helping a participant load 79 pounds of firewood on her head

Dear All,

Welcome back! I am happy to be writing again after three weeks of fieldwork. It has been such a joy to be back in the bush with assistants Robilert, Alex, and our refugee and host participants.

We are now working with the final third of research participants, who are 80 refugees and hosts from tree planting, woodlot establishment, and fuel-efficient stove construction programs with an NGO called DanChurchAid (DCA). Finishing out with these 80 will bring our total participant number to our target of 240. I was able to get a one month extension from Fulbright, which was supposed to conclude in November, to allow me to keep working until mid-December which gives us some flexibility and takes pressure off data collection.

Robilert and Alex did a fantastic job of measuring trees and continuing data collection while I was away in Tanzania. They also started the routine of sharing lunch together and we have kept that up since I've been back. Lunch makes for a nice transition point to sit down, share some laughs, and rest between data collection on the refugee side (morning) and host side (afternoon). In the photo below Alex and Robilert share plates of enyasa (mingled cassava bread), beans with groundnut paste and small fish, and beans with Cleome gyandra, also known as "spiderplant," which is an indigenous superfood. Meanwhile, I munch on an orange and fresh groundnuts.

Robilert and Alex sharing some Lugbara cuisine for lunch

Regarding research, I feel that we are approaching "data saturation," where our data collection (through interviews, photo sorting, and firewood walks) is not necessarily yielding tons of new insights each day, and information can be a bit repetitive from what we have learned before. This is to be expected since we have now completed research activities with more than 180 participants. It is also not a reason to stop collecting data before we reach 240 participants, because the higher sample size will increase the validity of our findings, particularly when we look for patterns between variables such as distance to firewood and displacement status (whether someone is a host or refugee), or in which zone of Imvepi someone is located. And we always learn something new each day, even if small. I'll share a few themes from the past three weeks:

Crossing River Ore

On the refugee side, we are mostly working with participants in villages which border the neighboring Bidibidi refugee settlement, separated from Imvepi only by the River Ore. As I mentioned in previous posts, a lack of firewood and available agricultural land within Zone 1 of Imvepi is causing refugees to travel across the river to both rent land and seek out firewood in Bidibidi. Now that we are in the rainy season, the river is flowing and is about knee high. So almost everyday Alex and I follow our participant to the river, remove shoes, roll up pants, and wade across. Our participants are wise, wearing simple plastic sandals which allow them to walk right through the river when carrying firewood without stopping to remove shoes.

A participant and her friends getting ready to cross Ore (top), and returning with firewood (bottom)

On the other side of the river, we continue walking until participants reach their own rental land or land owned by a familiar host, bypassing stands of mostly Acacia and Combretum which can cause conflict if cut. I am appreciating more and more that not just any tree is considered valuable "firewood"-- rather firewood refers to dried bits of wood, dead branches, or fallen logs which require time (and skill) to scavenge. It is only when no dried wood is available, usually from harvesting pressure, that refugees resort to cutting "wet" trees. It is the sound of the panga (machete) hitting wet wood that can cause trouble when nearby hosts hear and are alerted to tree cutting. So cutting of wet wood for refugees really requires that personal and trusted relationship with a host landowner.

Refugee plant experts

DCA engaged more male participants than either of the programs we previously worked with. We have found that some of the older male refugees are incredibly knowledgeable about diverse uses of local trees and plants. For example, there was one older refugee I will call Henry who told us that he grew up with his grandfather in a rural South Sudanese village and had the benefit of absorbing his grandfather's deep botanical knowledge, unlike his father who lived in town.

Henry shared ways in which his grandfather's generation survived in the bush through eating specific parts of trees. For example, we learned that the leaves of nyangilo (we think a Ficus.. still working on the ID) can be cooked with salt, oil, and sesame paste as a sauce. We also learned that the roots of Balanites aegyptiaca, one of the most common indigenous fruit species in this region (produce a sweet date-like fruit), have small nodules which can be picked off and eaten raw for stomach deworming, or can be toasted and eaten as a snack mixed together with groundnuts. We also learned that the leaves of kilikili (Senna obtusifolia), an herb found all over the settlement, can be picked off, dried, and used for sauce.

Henry explaining the edible use of nyangilo leaves to Alex (left) and kilikili (right)

Henry has been a leader in the community encouraging tree planting. He creates tree seedling pots by wrapping leaves around soil and distributes them for free to his neighbors. He also encourages his neighbors to irrigate newly-planted trees by poking holes in the cap of a water bottle and spraying water on them.

Henry making homemade seedling pots (left) and irrigating with a water botte (right)

Another participant, I'll call Jeffrey, knew extensively about medicinal uses of nearby plants. He demonstrated how the leaves of pigeon pea (Cajanus cajan) can be wrapped into a funnel and water poured through into the eye of someone suffering from trachoma.

Jeffrey demonstrating with his daughter how to use the leaves of pigeon pea to treat trachoma

He also informed us that the roots of dodo (Amaranthus spp.) can be pounded and mixed with the roots of tuyoyo (Solanum incanam) into a mixture which is rubbed on the chest of someone suffering from witchcraft. To my best understanding, witchcraft is a kind of negative energy which can be directed by certain individuals (witches or wizards) towards others. Those individuals tend to be disliked within the community or have been in conflict with others, or are envious of others. Witchcraft usually manifests as weakness of body or lines/bumps on the skin. Most refugees who we ask have shared that incidence of witchcraft has increased since moving to Imvepi from South Sudan because there are so many cultures mixed together and as some refugees describe, they don't know "who is good and who is bad."

Roots of Solanam incanam (left) and Amaranthus spp. (right) are used to treat witchcraft

Something else I have picked up on is that older refugee men can sometimes have closer friendships with host landlords than do refugee women, leading to tangible benefits such as land rental at low or no cost, or permission to take firewood. In the host (Lugbara) culture, men are in charge of land and trees, and decisions about who can use them. Given that older refugee men may have more affinity with older host landlords based on shared age and gender, my theory is that this gives them some advantage in negotiating resource use, and may put female headed households at a disadvantage.

Bush snacks

We are also continuing to learn much about plant use on the host side. One male host demonstrated how he peels off the thin inner bark of Acacia hockii and chews it as a snack during long hours of grazing cattle in the bush. Robilert and I gave it a try and it had a sweet, milky taste... delicious!

Splitting Acacia to extract the inner bark

Robilert chewing on Acacia (called aligo in Lugbara)

We are also enjoying the fruits of Lantana camara which are currently ripening. Lantana is unfortunately a competitive exotic shrub which can threaten local biodiversity, yet produces purple fruits that are enjoyed mainly by children, animals, and, well, me and Robilert. In Arabic the refugees call Lantana kurunuteri meaning "fruit of the birds," while in Lugbara the hosts call it oboloko pipi meaning "candy of the wolves." On the way home from work, Robilert and I have been stopping the motorbike near large lantana stands and feasting on berries.

Robilert and a young friend enjoy oboloko pipi, fruit of the wolves

Groundnut shells in the paths

Around the settlement lately I have been noticing groundnut shells scattered on the pathways. I knew that groundnuts are currently being harvested and figured that people were simply dumping the shells in paths for convenience, or something like that. I learned from Alex, however, that shells in the pathways have a whole other meaning. It is believed that if the shells are stepped on by many people, this will bring blessings and improved harvest to crops sown in nearby fields. It now makes me smile as we walk through piles of groundnut shells on our way to and from firewood collection

Groundnuts scattered on pathways around Imvepi

I will leave you with a photo of our Imvepi Fitness Club after running nearly 10 kilometers around the hilly settlement. We keep pushing ourselves, training for an October 9th trek up to Rhino Camp refugee settlement.

Thank you so much for reading! I look forward to writing again in the coming weeks.

Imvepi Fitness Club after a run around the settlement