Teaching Ag at BNTC

It's 6:39pm on the clock. I've been banished from my garden by a feisty afternoon rainstorm. I'm not complaining - grow cucumbers!  Grow radish!  Grow squash!  Grow tomatoes!  Grow! And actually, it's a good moment to sit down and share some exciting and much-overdue thoughts about BNTC.


Bishop Ngalamu Theological College is a small school right here in town. Devoted to the education of Christian leaders in South Sudan, it started as Bishop Gwynne College and was once a strong institution where godly leaders (like Mundri's own Bishop) were trained in theology and community development.

In 2009, when our team landed here, it was being newly reopened in Mundri following the interruption of civil war. And that's when I first got roped into teaching English to the sixteen students who were struggling to keep up with course-work in a language not their own.

At the time, I admit that I stepped into the role hesitantly. . . thinking that it didn't truly fall into the gamut of things the Lord was calling me to invest in here. But I had been praying, and God had been planning, and in His ever mysterious and perfect ways, He was at work. (Which I'm always so grateful for in retrospect).

It didn't take long for me to discover that this was a great match. I loved the opportunity to get to know the students on a regular basis. And I loved teaching cross-culturally. Whether or not I was actually good at it is another story altogether. But God has a way of making His strength perfect in weakness. And a teacher (no matter how green and fumbling) is better than no teacher at all. So, one thing led to another, and I now teach basic agriculture, and run a practical ag program to go along.

Last December, with much fanfare and gratitude to God, we graduated our first batch of post-war students. It was a milestone for sure. The challenges were significant - crumbling buildings, no furniture, a lack of teachers, virtually no funds with which to run a school, and the disorganization of a new start-up in rural Africa . . . it was an adventure to put it mildly.

This spring we welcomed a new batch of students. Twelve eager men, and two perky women! I've had a lot of time to re-think the curriculum, and develop a practical program that would hopefully challenge and teach the students. We got started in May and it has been a fun (if not scary) ride ever since.

In class we started off laying a biblical foundation for how we think about and do agriculture. Stewarding the earth. Working with excellence as unto the Lord. Cultivating hearts of generosity and care for others - widows, orphans, the church, future generations. Working by faith with joy. Starting with what we have as a gift from God. Planning ahead. Making wise decisions based on prayer and study.

Then we got started in the field, tilling the earth to prepare it for the first and final time. 'Final time?' you may ask. Well, yes. We are conducting an experiment in the vein of Farming God's Way. A basic tenet of FGW is to develop permanent planting stations. In order to preserve the delicate soil structure composed of decaying roots, channels for air and water, and healthy populations of decomposers and micro organisms, you carefully measure the plot and plant in the same holes year after year, without tilling the ground each season.

Our field has been carefully measured into twelve 6x6 meter plots. The students are working in pairs, each group with a pair of plots to manage. And the idea is this: each group is assigned one crop. On their first plot, they are to plant their crop according to the traditional Sudanese practice. On the second plot, they plant the crop according to my specifications (correct plant spacing, adding ash and manure, sowing seed at correct planting depths, using thick mulching, weeding on time, and planting in the same holes year after year.)

Then the process of careful observation begins. Each week the students are to inspect both of their plots, measuring height of plants, commenting on their health and color, observing the condition of the soil, and noting any issues with pests or diseases.

Here William and Emmanuel start off with their plot of millet. They didn't get their mulch together from the beginning, but they quickly 'fixed' that problem - and the subsequent nightmarish weeding problem.

Several weeks later, they stand with their beautiful lines of millet, weed free, and easy to manage.

I would not have guessed how something as simple as this kind of record keeping is utterly foreign and challenging for my students. No typical farmer keeps records for his or her agriculture. And therefore, it's virtually impossible to see whether any agricultural venture is actually worth the time, effort, or money invested in it. It is equally difficult to determine if production is growing or decreasing each year, or to isolate what variables may be affecting the success or failure of various planting projects.

Here James and Santele stand in their plot of mulched sorghum which has been doing amazingly. They were the only pair who decided to use cow manure (options also included goat manure, or termite hill soil).  The result is visible by the size and health of the crop.

Several weeks later they're literally up to their ears in sorghum. This type of sorghum is also like sugar cane, so worms love it. The new question is how bad the worm invasion will be and what might be done about it. James is giving ash a go. 

Determining the reasons behind success and failure often become a somewhat funny exercise in speculation in the absence of a logical application of the scientific method. But what we're learning in the field is showing students what this method looks like and how helpful it is in giving us more accurate answers to problems in farming.

Every other week, I check in with the students at their pair of plots - to let them report on progress, ask questions, discuss problems, and see how their record keeping is going. I've had a host of amusing learning curve comments. "We planted chika [a type of sorghum] but we are confused because we see that it started as chika but is now turning into beṛi [another type of sorghum]." Scientifically, that's not possible, but when you don't understand genetics, anything is possible! Another group consulted with me on the death of many of their beans, "they have germinated, but they are being eaten by insects."  Me: "What insects?" Them: "We don't know." Me: "Have you seen them?" (I could see no evidence of insect damage.) Them: "No." Me: "So how do you know if they are dying because of insects?"

It gives me so much joy to interact and learn with my students! They are a plucky bunch. They ask good questions (some of which I can answer, and others with which I do what us Westerners do best - run to books, google, and ECHO's amazingly helpful host of resources.)

Some days I get nervous. Fearful. What am I doing teaching agriculture? I wasn't even trained in it? Am I teaching at an appropriate level? Am I teaching in a way that is useful? Is what I'm teaching going to make a difference in these student's lives? I often feel that who I am and what I do is not adequate.

Other days I remember equally important points. There's no one else to teach this class, so praise the Lord I can help out. God doesn't ask us to be perfect or brilliant. He asks us to be available and willing. I may not be an agricultural expert, but God's given me a decent head on my shoulders, access to so much helpful information that people here don't have, and I can act as a bridge. Teachers are learners. And learners are teachers. God's strength is made perfect in weakness. Who likes to look weak? Not me. But who likes to witness the power and work that only God can do through a weakling? Definitely me. Besides, I love it. I REALLY LOVE IT. So actually, it's a win-win situation. I grow. They grow. I am humbled and forced to depend on God. God works through me. His Kingdom grows.

This past week the students survived their first set of semester exams. Struggles with English language aside, I was pretty encouraged by their results. Now, only five more semesters to go. As an encouragement and end of semester treat, with the exceptional help and support of my teammates (esp. John and Jenn), we hosted a BNTC outdoor community movie night!

At dusk, we set up a huge tarp on the neighboring football pitch. And then we rigged up a generator, speakers, sound system, and computer. After summoning the community and a little introductory speech and prayer, translated by our very own student James, we showed two episodes of Human Planet - Deserts, and Jungles. If you've never seen the series, I can't recommend it more highly. It's a breathtaking, fascinating, funny, educational, and sometimes gross (eating spiders?!) look into the extraordinary places and people on this earth, and how they live. The Mundri community just loved it! And listening to all their comments and hearing them laugh or exclaim at various things on the screen was fantastic. 

God is good. And so very faithful. Every large tree grows from a small seed. I'm still at the seed stage, but I'm starting to see things grow and flourish . . . 

Pine Trees at Sunset - by Tom Thomson
(a GREAT Canadian artist)

and I hope and pray for much, much more . . . one day.