In My Country…
One evening during a recent visit to the Philippines, I found myself sitting at a table having supper with two ARI graduates, both Episcopal priests, and a former ARI staff member. As expected, the conversation was packed with memories of ARI. Sentence after sentence began with the words, “When I was at ARI….”
I never get tired of these stories. Each one holds its individuality, but when you put them together, a pattern emerges that depicts the whole of ARI through the eyes of its Participants. They also show how dear, how precious, ARI is to those who have experienced it; time treasured even after twenty or thirty years have passed.
After some time, one of them chuckled and said, “When we were at ARI, we used to say, ‘In my country…’ and now that we are home, we say, ‘When I was at ARI…’” It was so true, and it reminded me of an article I wrote long ago, my own ARI memory of a sort. It was titled “In My Country…” and I hope you don’t mind if I dig it out to post here. Even though that article was published twenty years ago, every aspect of it still holds true today, a fact I find comforting.
In My Country…
reprinted from ARI newsletter, Take My Hand, December 2006
“In my country we cut off the tops of the rice at harvest time, so that we can get a second harvest from the same crop. Then we hang it as such and thresh it by beating it against a stone.” – Tanzania
“In my country we have swampy lowlands and this is where we raise fish. They divert the water from streams into ponds; a method that ensures the water is constantly replenished and clean.” – Sierra Leone
“In my place it is customary to cook lamb curry and bring it to the pregnant woman in the family.” – Sri Lanka
“In my village you can just walk right into your neighbor’s house to talk with them. There are no locked doors.” – Liberia
“In my country…” When you step onto the ARI campus it is only a matter time before you hear these words. Not until recently, however, have I begun to understand their real value. Perhaps that’s because I’ve traveled widely and heard them often. In those situations, I was a tourist, a visitor. ARI participants are not tourists, but grassroots leaders. When they share about their ways of life with each other, it is not just to make conversation, but to really teach and to learn.
A short time ago, we had two visiting journalists, one from Namibia, and one from Mozambique. Taking advantage of this rare opportunity to meet fellow Africans, nearly all the African participants joined them at the lunch table. The talk was lively, consisting primarily of politics and the direction each of their countries is moving. The words In my country were used extensively. Some spoke about how to rebuild after war. Others described their attempts to increase employment opportunities, and motivate and train people to start their own businesses. Still others talked of education and sustainable agriculture. Everyone was eager to share their experiences; their successes, failures, and plans for the future. In the middle of the meal I took a moment to sit back and watch all of this and I was struck by how amazing this scene really was.
This was an international conference, an African Congress with delegates from seven countries, including Liberia, Sierra Leone, Cameroon, Benin, and Tanzania, with additional guests from Namibia and Mozambique. These were not high-level government officials and bureaucrats. They were common people. People who are usually left out of the decision-making processes of their governments. They were real people, talking about real issues that affect them directly. As I watched further, though, I realized these were not common people, but extraordinary people, with compassion and determination. They didn’t speak of selfish desires like moving up the career ladder, making more money, or moving overseas. They talked about a better future for their people and a desire to work side by side with them to bring it about.
When you join in a discussion at ARI you will find that in my country… is really only the beginning; a stepping off point. In a speaker’s attempt to describe how things are different, the listener often picks up similarities. Many of our participants and graduates are dealing with the same issues. A Liberian asks a Nepali who runs an NGO for homeless children, “You also have street children in your place? Are they orphans or runaways? How are you able to help them?” A Beninese priest poses the question “How do you approach reforestation? You need the trees for their water holding capacity, but you need water to plant the trees.” A Filipina with experience in reforestation explains, “We prepare our tree seedlings and then transplant them at the beginning of the rainy season.” An ARI staff member adds, “If you plant native trees, they usually have fast growing roots that will reach ground water in a short time.” A Sierra Leonean asks a Sri Lankan Tamil, “How are you able to carry out your work in conflict areas?” Both countries have been through years of bloody civil war. He answers that this ‘conflict area’ is his home and these are his people. He will work with them to grow food. They are hungry and they can’t eat bullets.
From the beginning ARI has been called a community of learning; a place where everyone is a teacher as well as a student. This educational setting is unexpected to those who think these ‘students’ need to be taught by ‘experts’ in their fields. The fact is that this is exactly what ARI is doing, only the ‘experts’ do not necessarily hold PhDs. Our experts are the mothers who have found a way of getting nutritious food to their children during the dry season when there is a food shortage in their region. Our ‘experts’ are the farmers who continue to produce food when the economy completely collapses because of war or a sudden drop in the market price of their country’s main export. Our participants are packed with a lifetime of experience and knowledge. While our training expands their ability to work more effectively in their respective communities. Their experiences, shared with all in this community, enhances our training; a symbiotic relationship that is just one of the many elements that form this extraordinary institution – ARI.
In My Country…
by Steven Cutting
Graduate Outreach – Asian Rural Institute
These 2006 community photos come from ARI’s archives. The top photo features John Charles Ansu of Sierra Leone, known at ARI simply as Charles. He passed away in 2024 and is deeply missed by the many rural communities he served throughout his life.