Free Seeds of Plenty by Jennifer Juo Page A

child, he assumed she had died of hunger, although in reality it was dehydration that had killed her. He had been so hungry and thirsty that he had devoured whatever they had, not even thinking of sharing.
    This guilt propelled him, drove everything he did. It was the reason for his personal crusade against hunger and famine, the reason he had come to Africa. Deep down, he also knew it was the reason he found himself in a dirty brothel feeling this thing called loneliness. Since Lila’s snake bite, his wife had retreated into the far corner of their tepid marriage. He had put himself in this desolate corner, and he knew there was no one else to blame. He lay down on the creaky bed and closed his eyes. As he heard the moans of pleasure through the thin walls, he half-wished it was him.
    ***
     
    In the spring of 1974, after over a year of Winston trying to convince him, Simeon finally cleared his land. Winston stood on the burned, charred ground being readied for planting. He could smell the lingering scent of ashes. His feet crunched on the blackened wood and plant debris. The sun was hot that day, and Winston knew he should be feeling hope. This was the first milestone in his project, but the heat and the acrid smell of the smoke made him feel dizzy.
    Winston sat down on a large granite boulder in the shade. Parts of the rock had rounded, indented holes, left from grinding corn. He picked up a small rock and examined its slightly greenish hue in the light. His mother would have liked this rock, he thought, remembering their shared hobby of collecting interesting rocks. He put the rock in his pocket, running his fingers over its smooth edges every once in a while. In the distance at the edge of the village, several girls braided each other’s hair into elaborate patterns, each one unique. Other girls helped shell palm nuts. A group of boys threw stones at each other. He could hear alternating cries of laughter and pain. He closed his eyes for a second in the shade.
    He told himself he would help Simeon, and together they would show the rest of the village what could be done. He hoped if they saw the miracle of the seeds, the bounty of Simeon’s harvest, they would follow in his footsteps. His mind raced ahead, dreaming of taking Simeon around the region, as a sort of poster-farmer. He just needed one success and then all others would follow.
    Early the next morning, Winston and the agricultural extension worker demonstrated how to plant the hybrid maize seeds. It was May, the beginning of the rainy season, the perfect time to plant. The maize growing period mirrored the local seasonal shift between rainy and dry seasons. The maize could be planted at the start of the rainy season in May and then harvested at the onset of the dry season in October.
    Simeon’s wife, Abike, and several village women crouched down, using hoes to break up the soil, taking out any roots, stones, or plant debris. Afterward, Winston helped Abike distribute the fertilizer as they planted the maize seeds in rows. The amount of fertilizer had been carefully calculated in Winston’s lab. He had analyzed the soil samples himself, determining the levels of nitrate, potassium, and phosphorus, critical minerals that would be absorbed by the roots. He knew the soil was a deeply weathered, loamy sandy soil with clay subsoil, a kaolinitic soil common throughout the humid tropics of West Africa. It had moderate agricultural potential and had to be enriched if they were to have any success with the hybrid maize.
    After they were done planting, Winston and Simeon walked through the forest several miles to a nearby plantation. The large farm was owned by a government official, a green tractor from America ploughed vast tracts of cleared and flattened land. Bags of seeds stamped with the Cole Agribusiness logo were waiting to be planted, stored inside a red barn, an exact replica of an American farm. Jeeps and American consultants, wearing green Cole