Audio version of chapter 2.5
At 26 years old I had a clear idea about what I did not want from life, but precious little about what it was that I did. I grew up in rural Shropshire, worked as a farm labourer as a youth, before eventually heading off to university to study a mixture of geography, ecology and economics, essentially it was sustainable development. What this taught me largely was that just about everything we are engaged in economically is unsustainable. Most of what we rely on is counter-productive to our long term survival, the world does not make sense. I had started to feel a deep seated anger and inner rage at the self-apparent short sighted nature of our world, and I didn’t want to be that angry person, I needed to find what I did adovacte for, not what it was that was against. Permaculture changed all of this for me, but I had to look very hard to find it.
After a while of post-student malaise and a whole bunch of odd jobbing to fund travelling adventures all this study led me to a period working in Development Education. Dev ed is the social justice agenda, challenging the inherent racism and sexism in the Western world view, incorporating a global perspective and environmental sustainability into mainstream education. The ideas and perspectives of a once colonial nation will not serve us well in the modern era.
From this experience, and my studies it had become clear to me that militarism, racism, segregation and division was very much not something in line with the world I wanted to live in. The anti-apartheid movement was the defining force at that time and freedom for South Africa, the dream of a rainbow nation, led by a man formerly labelled a terrorist at the head of a majority ANC led government had caught the collective imagination. In my life the USA had thrown off segregation, Angola and Mozambique had escaped the clutches of Portugal, Rhodesia had become Zimbabwe, and Namibia had found its way to independence, there seemed that an inevitable tide of history that was finally turning. A future world must be united and value every person as an equal.
I also knew that I was on the anti-pollution, anti-corporate and anti-imperialism ticket. Growing up on a farm, and with a childhood immersed in nature and having studied about sustainability it was clear to me that corporate greed and the rape of the landscape of our own and other nations was doing unspeakable damage to our precious ecosystem. I had witnessed it up close on a small scale, as monoculture farming had decimated the landscapes I had played in as a child, and was hyper aware of the global trends after my studies, there was already a firm realisation that the global economy was setting a course to a destination it did not want to arrive at.
Our collective endeavour, through the corporate system has effectively removed most the tropical forest belt in the last 200 years. Whole ecosystems have vanished, and soils washed away, and we regard that as income. As our fossil-fueled, turbocharged society surged to 8 billion souls, the atmosphere has also surged to a terrifying 420 ppm CO2 in the atmosphere from the 275 ppm that it had been in 1790.
Nature had become simply the source of resources to fuel our consumer lifestyles, a one-way conveyor belt sucking in materials from one end and discharging the waste at the other. We have quite literally created a monster. None if it made any sense to me, even early on it was self-evident that we lived in insane times. I didn’t want any part of it, but had no idea how to escape. My deepest fear was that we are trapped inside a runaway train with only mad men at the helm.
I wasn’t happy, I was living and working in Reading, working on the education project but feeling like my life was not taking me anywhere I wanted to be, I had to get out. Without any clear ideas of my own, my response was to jump ship, roll the dice and see where chance took me. Still young, and not comitted to a particular path in life I had cashed in what few assets I had and bought that one way ticket to Nairobi, and onto this Africa adventure.
Somewhere along the line I came to the realisation that you can’t escape this version of reality as it is too powerful, but you can invent your own reality within it, and you don’t have to play by any of their rules. Can we live in our own parallel reality that exists within the collective nightmare that is the globalised corporate world? If they choose to crush you with their big jack boots, then they will do that, but otherwise, if you can keep out of the way, wearing your invisibility cloak of distraction, you can get away with almost anything, so long as you obey the principles of permaculture, is what I came to know.
And my vain hope is that if some critical mass of people can realise and enact this response to the extent that it may help trigger a fundamental shift in our collective behaviour, then meaningful change may indeed be a possibility. This journey to sustainability is a massive, fundamantal and slow transtion, it is not a single event, thought or idea, but a huge all-encompassing process, and someone has to go first, we have to embrace this with everything we have, all of our energies. I jumped in with both feet, and the first step for me was escaping Britain, unhitching my life from that societal direction that had been set out for me and trying to find my own path.
Let us take the position that we want to be subversive, how do we escape this system that claims to own us? This system that does not have our own best interests at heart, it wants to exploit us in the workforce, exploit us as a consumer, whilst toxifying us with cigarettes, booze and processed food, even more ready to sell us health care and life plan insurance.
“How do we find our way out of this maze?”
Roger Waters
Those with money and power do not want to yield any of it, they may throw some change on the floor but they will never give up their holdings. The game is rigged. Everything has already been bought and sold and if you weren’t born into privilege then there is no room for you at the inn. It seemed to me that to escape this situation somehow we have to be seen to be playing the game, whilst operating on a completely different set of rules.
Here in the West, the purchasing power of our wages, the overall standard of living, as well as all sorts of other metrics peaked sometime around 1976. By the time Reagan and Thatcher ushered in the neo-liberal era living standards were already falling and the shape and nature of employment was changing for ever. The Jimmy Carter era of USA had put solar panels on the roof of the White House and commissioned the first global health survey on the back of the Club of Rome report and that conversation about sustainability had really taken off in the 1970’s. Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth were exploding as political forces, Save the whale, Save the dolphin, we all wore button badges with our favourite issues on them back then. We felt we had some purchase, impact, that ideas matter, and actions were choices. Of course, all of these were such important movements, but looking back from where we are today, it also feels sort of quaint.
This was before the era of compromise and corporatization of everything had started in the 1980’s. We were told to give up on the idea of society, and nation states and to embrace individualism, consumerism, and the idea that we define who we are by what we consume. Brands, labels, ostentation, preening. Houses became lifestyles, financial assets, things to be speculated on and exchanged for vast profits; all of this was deemed good, and everything that had previously given people a sense of belonging, and connection was melted down and shipped off somewhere else. Cheap holidays, hatchback cars, sub-urban living, TV’s and home stereo systems, endless distraction, the very meaning of life is to be a consumer. Make that conveyor belt go faster. The pile of garbage ever bigger. It was that final phase of the Thaterite 80’s that pushed me to jump, whatever lay on the other side, I was prepared to take the risk, becauase I didn’t want any of this, but I did not know how to escape it, then I met Mike Durkin.
Mike was living under an alias, lost in the mountains of Chimanimani with a wife and 4 children lodged inside a parallel reality, one of his own makings. Crazy times, make for crazy people and Mike had travelled a narrative ark that was unique on so many levels. He was a sharp, strong, powerful man, clever, angry, sensitive, who was clearly determined to live life on his own terms. He had no time for the shallow distractions of sub-urban living. As a young man he had trained as a concert violinist, studying at the top conservatoire, in the rarified air of the hyper privileged world of classical music. Menial tasks were beneath him, lest he damage his perfectly manicured hands, his sensitive fingertips, so attuned to the subtleties of the bow and strings of his instrument, day and night he played, seeking perfection in some of the most complex pieces of music yet written. Art at its highest expression.
As a German citizen he was still called up for the army, to do his national service and somewhere along the line he had also discovered weed, and the counterculture of the 70’s which of course was blossoming. From being enmeshed in the very beating heart of German society he suddenly felt like a radical and wanted no part in militarism, at whatever level was being demanded of him. He left the country, and like many young draft dodgers, he went to India. Within the folds of the Himalaya there are many hiding places, and if one can get in with the local society, make oneself indispensable some how and burn your passport, et voilà, disparu!
This route has certainly been taken by many before him, but Mike had a better idea and headed to Kashmir, where with what meagre funds he had at his disposal a plan was hatched. Some of the finest Kashmiri hashish was to be procured whilst some wonderful carved furniture was commissioned. Intricately carved wooden screens, wherein a hollowed-out interior was to be packed with the hashish, compressed into place with car-jacks. This was the 70’s, and simpler times, and needless to say all highly illegal, but customs did not have the tools or the experience to intercept things like this, and for Mike’s karma, he had no problem as this was no crime, but a humanitarian act to supply the shiva prasad, this sacred ganja to those in need.
Calculating that one of the strongest European currencies at the time was the Norwegian Krona and geography and distance meant high quality hashish has was a rare and valued commodity there, he manged to transit the commissioned pieces to Oslo. Following on behind he was able to take receipt of said items and reclaim the treasure from within. Seeking maximum return, he did not want to offload in a single block to a wholesaler, not that he had the connections, but this was his once in a lifetime score, he wanted to make the best of this for his own escape, he needed to maximise the return.
Without any other real option and not knowing anyone, and not really speaking any Norwegian, he set up stall in a local town park, lurking on a public bench and trying to catch the eye of any likely looking potential customer. He quickly built a quiet but growing reputation as the source of something really quite special and magical, a rare treat in that cold Oslo Park; little nuggets of fresh hand-rubbed Kashmiri charas. The product sold itself, once the first few devotees had been found.
In three short months he manages to breakdown the whole stash into small enough pieces that he could pass off unnoticed in a busy city park. He quickly won regulars who wanted more but he restricted supply enough to keep the price up.
The moment the product had been turned into cash, our hero heads back into Europe and this time heads towards Russia. This is still Soviet times, and currencies are restricted and there is a raging back market. Norwegian Krona and USD fetched a high price in those days and Mike multiplied the value of his original investment many times over this way. He found himself in St Petersburg with an option to not only buy a passport but also a violin. I want to say it was a Stradivarius, I don’t think it was, but what I know is that it was a special, rare and celebrated thing. There was a golden age of violins, and a time of availability of certain materials, skilled craftsmen with the ambition to make the very best there could be. Something about violins, is that the good ones are transcendently good, and he had one, and they are also priceless.
A Stradivarius is one of the string instruments, such as violins, violas, cellos, and guitars, crafted by members of the Stradivari family, particularly Antonio Stradivari (Latin: Antonius Stradivarius), in Cremona, Italy, during the late 17th and early 18th centuries. These instruments are known for their craftsmanship, tonal quality, and lasting legacy, and are considered some of the finest ever made. Stradivari's violins, in particular, are coveted by musicians and collectors, with many selling for millions of dollars
With a fresh identity, a winning personality, and a priceless violin Mike had rolled the dice for himself and I know not how or why but he had wound up in Chimanimani, and he arrived with enough resources to take on Dairy plot, in the time before Graham and Penny had done so. It wasn’t enough of a challenge for him, too lush, maybe not private enough, and they had climbed the mountain and built a chalet in a Swiss Family Robinson kind of way and were homesteading up there. Not only that, but they were raising 4 kids, and fed themselves from what they grew, and lived off the occasional surplus they could sell.
African resurgence
The professor pictured in the video thumbnail is Jeffrey Sachs, an economist and geo-political analyst who is essential listening for anyone wanting to unpick and understand the current car crash of global events. The video clip however is of Shahid Bolsen, talking about European imperialism and the subjugation of Africa for 800 years and the permanent reality of African poverty. Bolsen is a controversial and outspken crtitic of Western imperialism, and speaks with a cadence reminsicent of Malcolm X. I have come to value this voice in these recent months of war and genocide.
“The subjugation of Africa is the most vital component of European wealth.”
Shahid Bolsen
Durkin mountain paradise
That is the family proudly standing outside their self-built house, high in the hills and off the map and the beaten path. They had a little cart pulled by a donkey to make their occasional visit to the market in Chimanimani, with produce of their own to trade, this visit were their lifeline to the outside world.
They became regular visitors to Dairy plot, the children were free range, could walk miles over the mountains unaided and seemed to have their finger on the pulse of the community surrounding them. Each was remarkable in their own way. I was captivated by little blonde-haired Gudrun. She possessed an independence of spirit, and a charm and a curiosity that was infectious. She had shown us around her world, a mountain top kingdom of adventure, real and imagined dangers, a hollow tree where there was a bee’s nest, where you could sometimes get honey from if you were brave enough, she flipped over a big flat stone to reveal the hiding place of her favourite scorpion. We had marched several miles around this strange land, led by this magical child who had barely shown any sign of fatigue or boredom of her strange companions, as she introduced us to her remarkable world.
Her younger brother Julian also possessed remarkable feats of strength, fitness and endurance as well as an intuitive understanding of the land they occupied. His tanned legs were antelope like, for a boy of 4 or 5 he had the fitness level of a wild animal and seemed oblivious to scratches and stones as he bounded through the landscape.
There was an older son also, Seb and I know he is now in South Africa working on solar installations, or was at least, from much later Facebook posts I tracked down. Impressive one and all. I often wonder how they are, after all these years in their house on the hill. The point for me, which resonated so clearly at the time was that they had created their own reality. They had woven their little nest in amongst everything else that served to meet their needs, without blocking anyone else from meeting their own. Everywhere they went there was a nod of recognition and approval, in their humble self-directed life they had become the masters of their own destiny.
The rules of engagement for any permaculture venture is that the principle aim is to create mutually beneficial relationships. To build with locally available natural resources, efficiently, creating something that can be easily maintained that fulfils the primary function that it was designed for. Harmonize with the nature, society and resources that are locally abundant, view all actions and decisions through the framework of the permaculture ethical model, and whatever it is you build it will tend to work. They had chosen a place where they can set their own priorities and values, build relationships with those in the wider community that shared those values and constructed a life that runs entirely on sunlight, donkey power, organic farming, wood fuel for light and heat, seed saving, a complex, evolving economic model built on these simple but fundamental principles.
Of course I am writing these words so many years later, I have spent those intervening years studying permaculture, absorbing everything I can to further my understanding, back in those days I could only gasp and the bravery, determination and focus of the achievement I was witnessing. I recall drinking dandelion root coffee, to wash down the unleavened buckwheat bread we had been roasting on the fire, realising that the creature comforts we are so familiar with are not to be taken from granted and that the off-grid life was also one full of challenges and hardships, yet it was there writ large as an option, for the determined and the brave, a land of opportunity awaits.
Another enduring memory is my fumbling my way through a basic folk tune on my guitar, with Mike’s violin accompaniment soaring over my notes, elevating a basic tune to the sublime. We shared some wonderful nights at Dairy Plot as well as some extraordinary ones up with them at their home, I felt I had entered a land of dreams, of new possibilities and a chance to fashion my own version of reality.
Paul Ogola needs to go to Taiwan
This is a story about permaculture. The possibility remains that we humans might evolve our collective behaviours to face the ecological transition that we must all make. The challange is to embrace the reality that we are simply part of an ecosystem so much bigger than any of us, that of planet Earth, what James Lovelock named as Gaia.
The reason I am delving into this deep nostalgia of these formative experiences of my own is because permaculture gave me hope, it gave me direction, it gave me the ethics and ideas to be able to articulate what it is that I do want. To join together in a common task to care for the Earth, to care for its people and to find my own path to an existence that makes sense to me and allows me to meet my needs, whilst supporting others to do the same. I had trained as a teacher, but permaculture gave me my subject and it gave me the drive to embrace it, and ever since I have felt like a man on a mission. We all need a mission in life I guess, and I am so grateful to those that helped me find mine.
In 2014 I came to Uganda on a study tour and in 2016 I came back to offer a full Permaculture Design Course, convinced that it offered the tools, coherence and vision required by any community to make that bold step into the unknown, to lead, to respond to the colossal challenges we are faced with. It was on this first PDC in 2016 that I first met Paul Odiwour Ogola. I saw the former blacksmith transform into the permaculture teacher, pioneer and community leader that he is, right in front of my eyes. On successive visits, over the coming years, I saw Paul apply what he was learning in the most powerful and practical ways. He established the Permo Africa centre, a demonstration and learning hub for his own community, and he set about developing links with 12 other surrounding communities and developing training and support networks.
In the intervening years Paul has not only bought about a regional transformation, but he has also ignited interest in permaculture and inspired many more projects and initiatives. He has learned much and has much to share, and to that end he has won a bursary place to attend the IPCC in Taiwan in 2024. As part of the Sector39 permaculture training initiative Paul has also developed ambitions to see the foundation of an international NGO, tasked with bringing permaculture training and support to communities and especially to areas needing urgent and rapid transformation. Paul is ambitious, visionary and has worked tirelessly over these last 8 years to apply himself to this permaculture inspired vision. He needs our support, to have a chance of reaching this goal, financially to reach Taiwan, and also through networking to help us build and organisation in line with his vision to bring permaculture not just to his community, but to the whole world.
“My aim is to eradicate food poverty from Homa Bay county” Paul Ogola
This short video was funded by SUII, an alliance of Scottish universities and beautifully captures Paul’s work of a couple of years ago.
Please consider helping Paul via this GoFundMe, this is permaculture in action.
I listened rather than read! Anyone who has spent any time with you knows full well you are a man with a mission - this is evidenced through your words too.
More and more people are looking to permaculture for solutions everywhere.
My wish of course is that it would find a way of capturing leaders and planners and governments replacing the models of neo liberal capitalism and rapacious consumption toward more sustainable living rather than it being seen as an outpost of alternative living and lifestyles.