The Whole Basket

I have been reading a book—Braiding Sweetgrass—loaned to me by a dear friend who said that she thought I would appreciate it. She was right. It contains some of the most beautiful and poetic non-fiction writing I have read in a long time. Each chapter is like a lovely gift to unwrap.

In a recent chapter, I was struck by the description of weaving a basket because it reminded me of work that I have been involved with for the past three years with a non-profit organization in Morocco. As I read about the process and the lessons learned from the process of basket weaving, I thought of the Moroccan farmers, the land, the planting of fruit trees, and the sustainable economic development of communities.

The author describes the challenges of starting a basket:

“The first two rows of the basket are the hardest. On the first go-round, the splint seems to have a will of its own and wants to wander from the over-under rhythm around the circle. It resists the pattern and looks all loose and wobbly […] The second row is almost as frustrating; the spacing is all wrong and you have to clamp the weaver in place to get it to stay. Even then, it comes loose and slaps you in the face with its wet end. […] It is a mess of unruly pieces, nothing like a whole. But then there’s the third row – my favorite. At this point, the tension of over is balanced by the tension of under, and the opposing forces start to come into balance. The give and take—reciprocity—begins to take hold and the parts begin to become a whole. The weaving becomes easy as splints fall snugly into place. Order and stability emerge out of chaos.” (Kimmerer)

I have become familiar with the process of attempting to engage with a rural community, to involve its members in a participatory approach to development by holding inclusive meetings with all stakeholders—all genders, ages, ethnicities, religions, and residence statuses. It is not easy, and it is not always smooth. It requires trained facilitators to negotiate the disparate perspectives and bring the pieces of dialogue into a cohesive whole so that people can agree on their collective priorities. And, yes, at first, they might resist, and the result might be merely a loose set of ideas without a clear path to achievement.

The second phase involves talking exclusively to the women, bringing them together for several long days of self-awareness and self-empowerment workshops in a separate setting. They reflect on the many “unruly” pieces of daily living that form a life: health, money, faith, marriage, parenting, relationships. With paper, markers, and imagination, they begin to sketch a picture of how they see their community and how they see themselves within it. They come to important realizations about the power they hold and the contribution they can make if they work collectively. During the hours they spend together, difficult conversations might lead to tears, and self-doubt can undermine intention. In the end, though, there is singing and dancing, clapping and ululating, as they revel in the joy of self-knowledge and the recognition of their first tentative steps toward directing their own futures. The dream is starting to take shape.

In the next phase, the women create a formal business cooperative with all that that entails. With help, they learn how to complete the legal paperwork. They are trained in how to manage a business and how to market a product. They use their traditional knowledge to create something that can be sold to earn their own income—sometimes for the first time in their lives—whether it is dried fruit produced from a community-run tree nursery, homemade baked goods, natural oils from aromatic plants, or magnificent handwoven carpets. As they embark on their entrepreneurial ventures, the future of the community begins to take hold and shape. One can see clearly the beginnings of a fruitful basket of commitment, agency, and sustainability.

Many more pieces will have to be woven over time, including the care and tending of new fruit tree saplings and the effective management of water and energy resources. Tree growth and survival will be monitored using new technology, and from the ensuing evaluations carbon sequestered in the tree trunk and the surrounding soil may be measured, verified, and sold as carbon offsets. Organic almonds and walnuts may be certified and processed, and argan nuts may be made into health and beauty products that will find their way to store shelves. The growing tree roots will anchor soil in this region that is plagued by drought and arid land. Families will shift from subsistence farming of barley and corn to more lucrative crops, and the economic and food stability will sustain them for many years to come, giving them a reason not to relocate to cities. Traditional cultures will be preserved and honored and heritage passed down to their children.

There is much to be learned from the phases of development of a small group of farmers, weaving their livelihoods together for better futures. As Kimmerer writes, we can only create the whole when we keep working the pieces together:

“In weaving well-being for land and people, we need to pay attention to the lessons of the three rows. Ecological well-being and the laws of nature are the first row. Without them, there is no basket of plenty. Only if that first circle is in place can we weave the second. The second reveals material welfare, the subsistence of human needs. Economy built upon ecology. But with only two rows in place, the basket is still in jeopardy of pulling apart. It’s only when the third row comes that the first two can hold together. Here is where ecology, economics, and spirit are woven together. By using materials as if they were a gift and returning that gift through worthy use, we find balance. I think that third row goes by many names: Respect, Reciprocity. All Our Relations. I think of it as the spirit row. Whatever the name, the three rows represent recognition that our lives depend on one another, human needs being only one row in the basket that must hold us all. In relationship, the separate splints become a whole basket, sturdy and resilient enough to carry us into the future.”

In my work, I have witnessed how the people use their surrounding environment for their economic well-being and understand their role and relationship between ecological-based adaptation to climate challenges and opportunities for sustainable prosperity. Yet, the strongest lesson I have learned from my observations within these communities and among the rural people is that their faith and devotion are what has sustained them in the face of adversity. Their respect for the natural world and one another and their fundamental belief in the value of good works toward others is what has given them the strength to survive. Working only toward meeting basic and immediate human needs does not, in the long-run, produce a stable community. Working collectively for the good of the whole does. It is a worthwhile lesson we should all take to heart.

 

Kimmerer, Robin Wall. "Wisgaak Gokpenagen: A Black Ash Basket." Braiding Sweetgrass. Minneapolis, Minnesota: Milkweed Editions, 2013. 148-149.