Small stories from a big world

  It is dry here, very dry. It hasn't rained since May. That's normal. If all goes well, the rainy season will start again in September. The grass around my house is barren. The plants in the garden are covered with a layer of sand. I live at a dirt road. Apparently there is a system here in Kigali that works as follows: if residents of a street – not a major traffic artery of course - are willing to invest a substantial amount themselves, the municipality will supplement the cost and pave the street. But that has not happened here as yet. A dirt road, that generates dust, especially in the dry season. An unpaved road is preferable to a bad asphalt road, at least if it is maintained from time to time. A road grader, with some kind of scraper attachment, then repairs the road surface. Moving back and forth across the road the grader removes washboard ridges, potholes and other irregularities. But when a car drives on it, it is automatically followed by a cloud of dust. M

I have wanted to grow my own papayas for a long time. I undertook several attempts. First, I planted some seeds from a fruit I just ate. No success. Even though I literally looked the plants out of the ground, the seeds remained hidden in the topsoil. A little later, I saw plants germinating on my compost heap. I carefully scooped them out of the heap and planted them neatly in a pot. They didn't like that. They died one after the other. Not a success either. The plan went on ice for a while. Until a few months ago, when I decided to use my compost to enrich the soil in my vegetable garden. A week later, every inch of free space had been taken up by little germinating plants unknown to me. The insight came when those first baby leaves gave way to the more recognisable leaves. Papayas, papayas everywhere. They came as if grass had been sown. So, I weeded and left one here and there to grow big and strong. I transplanted those young plants, about 20 cm high, into the soil, between