What more can I say? Thanks to your overflowing donations, last Saturday we planted not 500, but 540 fruit trees! A stunning and unbridled success! That being said, though, this was grassroots level work (see what I did there?) and it wasn’t without its frustrations.
It started, folks, in the town of Ananyevo, on the north shore of Lake Issyk Kul. My tree planting partner in crime, Mr. Gold, went up there three days before me to make sure we had access to trees that could handle the tough Naryn climate, and enough of them. He said he toured a number of nurseries, only to settle on one with the particular variety he was looking for run by a quirky little Russian man who said he had been doing this work since 1970. When he wasn’t laughing or explaining root grafting to me, he was digging up saplings and speaking hints of Kyrgyz. When it came time to hand over the cash, though, he didn’t want anything to do with me. “My wife,” was all he said. She was of a similar age, was quiet when she wasn’t laughing, and had until then only played a background role. After we settled our bill and organized the receipts, she showed me the garlic in her garden, and told me how to take care of raspberries.
It was 4 o’clock by the time we left Ananyevo, Mr. Gold, Corey and myself, tucked into our rented conversion van, sitting neatly among all those trees, plus the driver and his two grand kids. We dined on fried fish along the roadside, and didn’t get home until after dark. The driver told me he’d be happy to splash the tree roots with water, and we agreed to meet up the following morning.
It was the next day that we arrived in Emgekchil. This is a village of relative cash prosperity, an oddity in these parts. The cash-on-hand nature of this place is on account of the nearby mountain, flush with gold. The locals here spend weeks at a time digging for gold, and then hours at a time soaking the resulting stone in cyanide, which eats away everything but the metal.
Now, you must be thinking: if this village is relatively well off, why chose it for your tree project? The answer, my friends, is that cash prosperity doesn’t necessarily mean good decisions. Emgekchil also has a high rate of alcoholism. Lots of money may mean lots of parties, but it doesn’t guarantee quality food for the children. Plus, my host-grandmother’s sister lives in Emgekchil alone with only her drunken son. For me, this kind of work always carries a face, and her plight made this village as good as any other.
The relative wealth had led to concerns among the teachers who organized the project, however, that someone might just come along and buy the whole lot out from under me. They decided to place a limit on how many trees one person could buy (we price trees at 10% of their purchase price, largely to pay for transportation and future tree trainings. In the industry, this is called the ‘community contribution.’) While I was taken by the egalitarian nature of the idea at first, when we came to distribute, it backfired: when all was said and done, we had 130 trees left over.
Now, last year’s KyrgyCarl would have just sat down and cried. What do you do with 130 trees that you can’t hardly give away? Truth be told, this year’s KyrgyCarl wasn’t very happy about the outcome either. I was frustrated, but I wasn’t without a clue.
As the throngs were wrapping up, Mr. Gold took me by the hand, and led me away from the trees. “Carl,” he said, “I am going to Togolok Moldo village tomorrow, to pray and make a sacrifice for rain. It is very poor and has a good climate for fruit trees. I’ll take care of the rest of them there, and the people will be very happy.”
It was a risk. While I knew that I could trust this man, I needed to make sure that everything would go well. After all, you all donated this money! How could I not use every bit, and still have a clear conscience? So I called some people I knew in Togolok Moldo, including another volunteer. They agreed to do some monitoring for me, just to make sure everything went well. Then, I agreed to put my faith in Mr. Gold, the man I’d been working with for the last two months. He had never given me a reason to doubt him, and by this time in my service here, I’ve learned that if you can’t let go and trust people, there isn’t hardly a reason to be here at all.
And that folks, was that. I heard from my village spies that the trees were given out at the right price, about 25 cents a piece. Mr. Gold called me exuberant, telling me he sold them all in record time. The next day, he made a specific trip to my house to give me the proceeds. Now, thanks to your generous donations, we’ve planted over 1,000 fruit trees in this far away place, and even left a quality nest egg for future trainings, and to seed next year’s project.
Congratulations.
