杏吧原创

IF YOU had come here 10 years ago, says Thaddeus Salah as he shows us round his tree nursery in north-west Cameroon, you would have seen real hunger and poverty. 鈥淚n those times,鈥� he says, 鈥渨e didn鈥檛 have enough chop to eat.鈥� It wasn鈥檛 just food 鈥� 鈥渃hop鈥� in the local dialect 鈥� that his family lacked. They couldn鈥檛 afford school fees, healthcare or even chairs for their dilapidated grass-thatch house.

Salah鈥檚 fortunes changed in 2000 when he and his neighbours learned how to identify the best wild fruit trees and propagate them in a nursery. 鈥淒omesticating wild fruit like bush mango has changed our lives,鈥� he says. His family now has 鈥減lenty chop鈥�, as he puts it. He is also earning enough from the sale of indigenous fruit trees to pay school fees for four of his children. He has been able to re-roof his house with zinc sheets and buy goods he could only dream of owning before. He even has a mobile phone.

From Salah鈥檚 farm we gaze across the intensively cultivated hills which roll away towards the Nigerian border. 鈥淭en years ago, you鈥檇 hardly see any safou [African plum, Dacryodes edulis] in this area,鈥� says Zachary Tchoundjeu, a botanist at the 鈥榮 regional office in the Cameroonian capital Yaound茅. 鈥淣ow you see them growing everywhere.鈥�

The spread of African plum through these hills is one small part of a bigger movement that could change the lives of millions of Africans. The continent is home to some 3000 species of wild fruit tree, many of which are ripe for domestication. Chocolate berries, gingerbread plums, monkey oranges, gumvines, tree grapes and a host of others could soon play a role in ensuring dependable food supplies in areas now plagued by malnutrition (see 鈥淔uture fruits of the forest鈥�).

One of the architects of the programme is Roger Leakey, a former director of research at the World Agroforestry Centre. He calls these fruit trees 鈥淐inderella species鈥�: their attributes may have gone unrecognised by science and big business, but the time has come for them to step into the limelight.

鈥淭he last great round of crop domestication took place during the green revolution [in the mid-20th century], which developed high-yielding varieties of starchy staples such as rice, maize and wheat,鈥� says Leakey. 鈥淭his new round could scarcely be more different.鈥� Sparsely funded and largely ignored by agribusiness, high-tech labs and policy-makers, it is a peasant revolution taking place in the fields of Africa鈥檚 smallholders.

The revolution has its roots in the mid-1990s, when researchers from the World Agroforestry Centre conducted a series of surveys in west Africa, southern Africa and the Sahel to establish which indigenous trees were most valued by local people. 鈥淲e were startled by the results,鈥� says Tchoundjeu. 鈥淲e were expecting people to point to commercially important timber species, but what they valued most were indigenous fruit trees.鈥�

In response to this unexpected finding, the World Agroforestry Centre launched a fruit tree domestication programme in 1998. It began by focusing on a handful of species, including bush mango (Irvingia gabonensis), an indigenous African species unrelated to the Indian mango, African plum 鈥� not actually a plum but a savoury, avocado-like fruit sometimes called an afrocado 鈥� and a nut tree known locally as njansan (Ricinodendron heudelotii). Though common in the forests and as wild trees on farms, they were almost unknown to science. 鈥淲e knew their biological names, but that was about all,鈥� says Ebenezar Asaah, a tree specialist at the World Agroforestry Centre. 鈥淲e had no idea how long it took for them to reach maturity and produce fruit, and we knew nothing about their reproductive behaviour.鈥� Local people, in contrast, knew a good deal about them, as the trees鈥� fruits have long been part of their diet.

Rural Africans consume an enormous variety of wild foodstuffs. In Cameroon, fruits and seeds from around 300 indigenous trees are eaten, according to a study by researchers at Cameroon鈥檚 University of Dschang. A similar survey in Malawi and Zambia found that up to 40 per cent of rural households rely on indigenous fruits to sustain them during the 鈥渉ungry months鈥�, particularly January and February, when supplies in their granaries are exhausted and they are waiting for their next harvest ().

Some of these so called 鈥渇amine foods鈥� have already been domesticated by accident, says ethnoecologist Anthony Cunningham of People and Plants International, an NGO based in Essex Junction, Vermont. He cites the example of marula (Sclerocarya birrea), a southern African tree in the cashew family with edible nutty seeds encased in a tart, turpentine-flavoured fruit. 鈥淟ong before the development of agricultural crops, hunter-gatherers were eating marula fruit,鈥� he says. 鈥淭hey鈥檇 pick the best fruit, then scatter the seeds around their camps.鈥� These would eventually germinate and mature into fruit-bearing trees, ensuring, in evolutionary terms, the survival of the tastiest. Marula is now fully domesticated and the fruit is used to make juice, a liqueur called Amarula Cream and cosmetic oils.

Hard graft

Likewise, generations of farmers in west Africa have selected and eaten the tastiest varieties of African plum and bush mango, planted their seeds and traded the seedlings 鈥� to such an extent that these trees are now widely grown. However, this is a haphazard and unscientific way to domesticate plants.

The planned domestication programme in Cameroon, initially led by Leakey and Kate Schreckenberg of the Overseas Development Institute in London, began with an analysis of the traits most appreciated in the villages. Unsurprisingly, farmers wanted trees that produce lots of large, sweet fruit as quickly as possible. So the researchers asked the farmers to show them their favourite wild trees, and took samples so they could propagate their own. Farmers also received training in horticultural techniques, such as grafting, used to propagate superior varieties.

Initially, many villagers viewed the techniques with suspicion. 鈥淧eople said this was white man鈥檚 witchcraft, and at first they didn鈥檛 want anything to do with it,鈥� says Florence Ayire, a member of a women鈥檚 group in Widikum, Northwest Province. They changed their tune, however, once they saw how her grafted fruit trees 鈥� created by splicing material from a superior tree onto one which lacks the desired traits 鈥� flourished. Now they all want to learn, she says.

This isn鈥檛 the only technique farmers are learning. They are also being trained how to clone superior trees by taking cuttings 鈥� one of the best ways of producing large numbers of genetically identical plants 鈥� and how to do marcotting, which involves peeling away bark from a branch and tricking it into producing roots while it is still attached to the parent plant. Once the roots appear, the branch can be cut down and planted in the soil.

Marcotting overcomes an important barrier to domestication for many species: the time it takes a tree to reach maturity and bear fruit. 鈥淭here鈥檚 a saying round here that if you plant the nut of a kola tree, you鈥檒l die before the first harvest,鈥� says Kuh Emmanuel, who helped to establish the centre where Salah was trained. It is still not known how long it takes for a wild kola tree to reach maturity 鈥� probably 20 years or more. Using marcots, however, farmers can raise kola trees that fruit after just four years. What鈥檚 more, says Emmanuel, it results in a dwarf tree, which is important when you consider how many people fall to their death when harvesting fruit.

There鈥檚 nothing new about the horticultural techniques being used to develop superior varieties of fruit tree in Africa. 鈥淲hat distinguishes this from most crop development programmes is the way it鈥檚 being implemented,鈥� says Leakey. The traditional model involves the development by agribusiness companies of new varieties which can be grown as monocultures in vast plantations. 鈥淲hat鈥檚 happening with the domestication programme in Cameroon is completely different,鈥� he says. 鈥淟ocal farmers play a key role in developing and testing new varieties, and they鈥檙e the ones who stand to benefit most.鈥�

The programme has been a huge success: in 1998, there were just two farmer-run nurseries in Cameroon; now there are several hundred. Many are independent businesses, making significant profits and providing enough trees to transform the lives of tens of thousands of rural families.

Many farmers have increased their income by a factor of three or more, and their spending priorities are nearly always the same: more and better-quality food, school fees, decent healthcare, and zinc sheets to replace leaking thatch. Many also use their new-found wealth to buy land or livestock. One of the most exciting things about the domestication programme, says Tchoundjeu, is the way it is encouraging young people to stay in their villages rather than head to the cities to look for work.

鈥淧riorities are always the same: better food, school fees, decent healthcare and zinc sheets for the roof鈥�

Some projects are evolving into big business. Leakey is particularly impressed by , a public-private partnership involving, among others, Unilever, the World Agroforestry Centre and the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN). The project is promoting the domestication of Allanblackia, a group of trees whose seeds contain oil perfect for making margarine. Some 10,000 farmers in Ghana and Tanzania already grow the trees. If all goes to plan, this will rise to 200,000 farmers growing 25 million Allanblackia trees in a decade鈥檚 time, earning them a total of $2 billion a year 鈥� half the annual value of west Africa鈥檚 most important agricultural export, cocoa.

All of this chimes well with the findings of a recent analysis of the problems facing agriculture worldwide. The latest report by the suggests that business as usual is not an option. Instead, it argues, agriculture must do far more than simply produce food: it should focus on issues of social, economic and environmental sustainability, concentrating on the needs of the world鈥檚 smallholders. The report also suggests that more attention should be paid to utilise wild species.

Better than cocoa

A glimpse of how such a future could look can be seen at Christophe Misse鈥檚 smallholding, an hour鈥檚 drive north of Yaound茅. In the 1990s, his main crop, cocoa, yielded an income for just three months a year; even with the extra cash he earned as a part-time teacher he struggled to make ends meet. Then, in 1999, he attended a training session held by the World Agroforestry Centre.

Two years later he set up a fruit tree nursery with three neighbours, and they now sell over 7000 trees a year. Their own farms are also much more profitable since they began growing indigenous trees. Some of Misse鈥檚 most fruitful African plum trees earn 10,000 CFA francs (about $20) a year each, five times as much as his individual cocoa bushes. 鈥淚鈥檝e built a new house,鈥� he says proudly, 鈥渁nd I鈥檓 making enough money to pay for two of my children to go to private school.鈥�

Misse still has some old timber trees shading his cocoa, but these are gradually being replaced by fruit trees, which will provide not just shade but a significant income and a habitat for wildlife. There is another benefit, too. Trees are much more capable of resisting droughts and other climatic shifts than annual crops such as cassava and maize. By planting a range of different tree species, farmers like Misse are taking out an insurance policy for the future.

As he sips a glass of Misse鈥檚 home-made palm wine, Tchoundjeu muses on the changing landscape. 鈥淚f you come back here in 10 years鈥� time, I hope 鈥� I鈥檓 sure 鈥� you鈥檒l see improved varieties of indigenous fruit tree on every smallholding,鈥� he says. 鈥淚 think you鈥檒l see a great diversity of different tree crops and a much more complex, more sustainable environment. And the people will be healthier and better off.鈥� It鈥檚 a story, he believes, that could be repeated across Africa.