There had to have been a way to avoid the heat and strain, but there we were, hiking up and down the hill, digging holes, and struggling to get enough water. For the plants, that is. It was June 1st, Arbor Day in Benin, and my host organization, host communities, and I celebrated with 60 mahogany trees, 50 beechwoods, and 20 orange and mango trees, respectively. Working across three villages, two schools, and two excruciating long, sunbathed roads, we planted these 130 trees to improve educational access for local girls. But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, so let’s rewind.
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| L'Avenue des Arbres de Houedjro |
It’s late March, and my community is knee-deep in what would become a three-month national teachers’ strike. At the same time, my counterpart brought Arbor Day to my attention as my host organization usually uses the day to plant trees and raise awareness of environment issues. We had neither seeds nor funding and would have to start scrambling if we wanted to plant trees. We looked to the Peace Corps for funding options, but the only one quick enough would have to be a gender-equity project with a cap of $100. How could we tie tree planting to gender issues? We struggled to make the connection until we recalled the teachers’ strike. In the past, our local schools felled trees to pay for teacher salaries when neither the state nor parent fees sufficed. Trees could be planted in the schools and tied to gender in one way or another. It was a small nut of a connection, so we took it to the local PTA president who helped it grow.
The result was a project, financed by Peace Corps Benin, called “Planting Bright Futures.” The project proposal went something like this: “Planting Bright Futures” will capitalize on Beninese Arbor Day to teach primary school students about environmental protection, instruct them in proper tree planting and maintenance, and contribute to local public primary school natural resource wealth. Local women’s groups will teach tree planting and “bio” cage building to primary school students and lead the students in planting 130 trees. These trees will be owned and managed by the local PTAs. Not only will these trees grant opportunities to learn about the environment, but they will provide fruit and shade for years to come and -if ever cut down- revenue for the schools to combat dropout rates. The gender component was two-fold. First, girls don’t often get the chance to learn about agriculture/agroforestry techniques, let alone from other women, and female students will be encouraged to be leaders in tree maintenance (though maintaining an equitable gender burden overall). Second, parents unable or unwilling to pay school fees often privilege the education of male children over their female siblings. If future tree felling can subsidize fees charged to parents, then we can expect female student dropout rates to fall. So far, so good.
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| The tree cages weren't going to move themselves. |
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| My counterpart and I with the student leadership team in Houedjro. |
Much of the project went according to plan. The women’s group was so motivated it produced past our demand for cages. We divided the number of trees in half in order to plant some in each of the two schools in our area. Each school received 10 fruit trees for the school grounds, and the PTA and men’s and women’s groups planted the other 55 non-fruit trees along village roads. My counterpart enjoyed calling these Les Avenues des Arbres, or Avenues of the Trees. Come June 1st, students and community members began trickling into our first school, Adjidjatomé (pronounced “A-jee-jah-toe-may”), around 7 AM. My counterpart led a ceremony on the importance of trees followed by speeches from local authorities and the official county forester. The forester went on to lead demonstrations for our women’s group partners and the students chosen as maintenance leaders. They went on to plant the nine other trees, christening each after a student leader. Students were so excited they pushed and prodded for the front row at each planting site. Each plant got a big hole of loose dirt, plenty of water, and a locally-produced protective cage made from organic material.
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| No project is complete without a group photo |
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The forester proved an invaluable resource in not only teaching the students
but also in motivating and empowering them to be model citizens. |
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| Everyone is excited to get planting. |
My colleagues and I left the first school and its men’s group to its own devices in planting the Avenues des Arbres because we were already an hour late for doing the same thing at our second school in Houedjro (pronounced “Wage-roh”). We set up the ceremony and trained the student and women’s groups without the forester, who left for another ceremony in the county. After the demonstration we released the students and their leaders to their respective planting locations. Chaos ensued. The women concentrated on a few sites while the students had at it with the rest. My counterpart and I juggled these sites, praying the kids paid enough attention as to not kill the saplings. They turned out just fine, and so the students returned to class as the adults turned their eyes to the adjacent hill to plant the Avenue des Arbres. Despite all measures of haste, the late morning heat soon beat down on our team. Towards the end we ditched the last stretch of the Avenue and planted a handful of trees in the local health center instead. Sweating ourselves down the hill, we were done.
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| Mama Michel helps third graders plant an orange tree sapling |
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| Planting at the health center |
The day saw the raising of environmental awareness, training on tree planting, and 130 new tree saplings in the community. As excited as I am about my first project as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I am hesitant to call it a complete success. The children learned and grew just as our project shows glimmers of sustainability as we hand the reigns to local PTA and group leaders. I have faith in them, though they will need to be checked in on every once in a while. The real catch comes years down the road, for the project will only become truly successful should these trees fetch a pretty penny, reduce school fees, and keep the dreams of staying in school alive for some smart, ambitious girls. Right now, the trees are much like these dreamers: small, young, and just getting rooted. But there is a sprouting hope in the communities of Adjidjatomé and Houedjro. Such a hope is that both tree and girl grow to become mighty providers, towering in the community that nurtures them and gives them a chance to succeed.
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