On Yurts & Crowdfunding, Or, There’s Nothing New Under the Sun

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Tonoo (centre ring/skylight) & supporting pillars.

Tonoo (centre ring/skylight) & supporting pillars.

Last Thursday we put up our yurt. (I’m going to restrain the use of exclamation marks for now, since if i don’t i will use them to punctuate every sentence of this post.) Some of you were here with us; some following on facebook. It was a wonderful time, even with the added challenge of rain. I don’t think that we could’ve beat the rain—once we had the roof felts & exterior canvas on, we could put up the rest of the felts in the rain much more easily—without the help of everyone who showed up. Thank you.

Putting up roof poles.

Putting up roof poles.

The felt insulation.

The felt insulation.

Getting the lowdown on yurts.

Getting the lowdown on yurts.

More felt, this time in the rain!

More felt, this time in the rain!

The outer ropes keep the insulation tight against the lattice walls, as well as connecting the doors to the walls.

The outer ropes keep the insulation tight against the lattice walls, as well as connecting the doors to the walls.

IMG_4576Yesterday we had our yurt-warming party. Again, many people showed up; many also followed on facebook. It was also a wonderful time, made even more wonderful by the absence of rain! Burgers & salads were eaten, drinks imbibed, songs were sung, & our new home was warmed—literally & figuratively.

It was during the building & warming of our new home that i rekindled my gladness that we were trying to crowdfund.

Some of you are aware that we have set up a page where people can contribute toward this first major piece of infrastructure in our mini-farm/farmette dream/adventure: our home, aka, a traditional Mongolian yurt/ger. (There should be a link on the righthand side to our kapipal page, but you can also click here.) We started out by getting approved for a line of credit to finance our home—folks at our local bank figured that a yurt wouldn’t qualify for a mortgage—but after giving it more thought, we decided to try to crowdfund our yurt, at least in part. The main reason is that we wanted to give people an opportunity to support us in this new endeavour, we hoped to become an object of generosity. We wanted this to be an adventure supported by our communities far & near. Like many of our other adventures, we hoped it would be a communal undertaking.

When i use the word crowdfunding, i am using it to mean fundraising which uses one or more social media platforms. There are many of these crowdfunding sites already, & i’m sure more are on the way.

IMG_4599So fundraising is not new. But it seems people are using crowdfunding more & more to fund dreams & visions. For a few decades now, a lot of those dreams & visions have been either self-funded, bank-funded, or, in the case of new businesses, venture-capitalist-funded. Now it seems that people in general want to have opportunities to say “yes” to something by giving a small (or sometimes large) contribution. This is evidenced by the success of many crowdfunding ventures in myriad fields, be it filmmaking, product development, charitable projects, or, yurts.

In the introduction to the Foxfire Book, a compilation of articles from Foxfire Magazine, high-school-English-teacher-turned-magazine-editor Eliot Wiggington  tells the story of how his unruly class became the content generators for a magazine that, for many of the back-to-the-land movement, was a source of knowledge & inspiration.

He had tried to get the students engaged with the course material in many ways. He had tried harsh discipline. Nothing was working. So, he proposed that they start a magazine. The content would come from their neighbours & relatives, residents of the Appalachian mountains.

IMG_4606“And money? The school could provide no support at all. Any financial obligations would be my problem—not theirs. … the kids had to find the money for that first issue themselves, and that made them more determined to see the magazine go than anything i could have said.

And so they hit the streets after school. Any donor, no matter how small [the] gift, would be listed in the issue, and [they] would receive a free copy signed by all the kids.”

I was reading this out loud to Heather & i stopped at that point & said, “That’s crowdfunding.”

What i’ve read so far of the Foxfire Book has been thoroughly enjoyable. Stories of elders, their lives, their ways of life, made possible by crowdfunding. Made possible because the students’ community said yes to this vision by supporting it with gifts small & large.

So we have chosen to crowdfund because we need our community, but also because we wouldn’t want to do this without our community. Building & warming our yurt was so much better because of the support from our community here in Saskatchewan as well as those across the globe.IMG_4601

It is a beautiful thing to belong & to feel supported. As we were putting up the yurt, Yves the Yurt Expert/Delivery Guy told us about how each part of the yurt—the wood structure, the insulation, the cover, the ropes—contributes to the strength of the yurt. No one part of the structure is the key. The yurt is strong because of all the parts that belong to the whole. I hope that for many years, our yurt home can be a reminder to us & our community that that is exactly the same way that a community gets its strength.

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We were also told that Mongolians believe that the spirit of a yurt lives in the door frame. People step over the frame & if they accidentally bump their head or foot, they will pass through again, offering an apology for disturbing the spirit. For the same reason people do not knock on the door of someone’s yurt; also because everyone is always welcome in a yurt.

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So the next time you find yourself driving south of Hanley, Saskatchewan, look for our squat-grain-bin-looking yurt with the bright red door, drive right on up & come in. We can’t promise the traditional Mongolian drink of hospitality (fermented mare’s milk), but chances are we’ll have some sort of beverage to offer you.

Welcome.

Buying vs. Making

I’m currently reading Radical Homemakers: Reclaiming Domesticity From a Consumer CultureIt is a very interesting book which advocates for the return of the homemaker. No, not the housewife of the ’50s, but a woman or man in a family who is dedicated to the making of a home: growing & preserving food; repairing clothing; cooking food. Doing the things that cost today’s family so much money, causing people to work longer & longer hours, leaving less time for interaction with spouse, children, friends, & family.

I’m not going to get deep into the specifics of the book, nor am i going to go off on a tirade about how every family needs to take back the Domestic Arts (that’s for another post, after i ruminate on this vast topic more). I wanted to share with you something that i noticed in myself.

As many of you out there know—because you know me in person & have witnessed my tendencies—i am a maker. Some of my friends once joked that a statement that is almost always true of me at any moment is that i am “doing arts & crafts.” I think it really started in full force when i learned to knit & crochet, though i did alter my thrift store wardrobe all throughout high school as a result of my grade 8 sewing class. Once i realized that i could now make scarves, toques, mitts, & blankets, the world was my oyster. & i wanted more.

I learned more cooking skills, baking bread from scratch being a perennial favourite obsession. Now i’m learning how to ferment things like mead & sauerkraut. I am also experimenting with woodworking & lutherie.

Shannon Hayes, author of Radical Homemakers, points out that when all the labour-saving devices & industrial convenience foods came into the typical North American household, the housewife* became more of a consumer than ever before. Suddenly her “job” was equated with shopping rather than making. “Being productive” became synonymous with “buying things”.

I am in The City (Saskatoon’s the biggest centre near us, so it is generically referred to as “The City”) today, shopping for various & sundry odds & ends: zip ties for goat fencing, rubber boots to protect our feet from the impending spring mud, & new knitting needles. Reading in the pauses between my shopping forays, i notice within myself how i feel productive after i’ve bought an item. Today has felt like a productive day, despite the fact that i haven’t actually produced anything; i’ve only consumed products.

While this does worry me—this productivity-equals-consumption idea wheedling its way into my brain & my activities—i take solace in the fact that most of what i bought are the ingredients of other things, tools & parts in a bigger DIY project. The zip ties represent the jury-rigged fencing that we are devising in our goat barn; the boots are a reminder that chores go on even when the snow melts & mucks up the land; the needles represent hats, socks, mittens.

*While not gender inclusive, my intent here was simply to be historically accurate. I’m a big advocate for a shift toward a word i learned from my friend Kaitlyn: house-spouse. The historical roots of the words husband & housewife are discussed in Radical Homemakers, which i found very interesting. Again, i’ll probably be returning to this topic more & more often in future posts. Get ready, people.

You Can Take Your Time Eating a Tangerine and Be Very Happy*

We now have more people using the land (that is, living from it) and fewer thinking about it than ever before. We are eating thoughtlessly … It is a crisis of culture.

The quote here is from Wendell Berry’s collection of essays “The Unsettling of America”. Starting in June, i’ve been a part of an informal challenge to read a Wendell Berry book per month for a year. I haven’t quite been able to keep up, but i am still trying to be reading some Wendell throughout the year. For those of you unfamiliar with Mr Berry & his writings, here’s a snippet from Wikipedia: “Wendell Berry (born August 5, 1934) is an American man of letters, academic, cultural and economic critic, and farmer. He is a prolific author of novels,short stories, poems, and essays.” Most of the time, i am in total agreement with what he writes. He’s a practical idealist; poet & plower combined. I like that.

 

In much of his writing on farming, he has three basic premises: 1) We need more farmers farming smaller portions of land, 2) We need to go back to older ways of farming, 3) There is a spiritual aspect to our food & the land from which it comes. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? I think so. I think it also reflects the growing concerns of the general population surrounding food.

The amazing thing to me is that he has been writing this for decades. Like, before people got this intense about their food. To me, the fact that his writing can be so timely 30 years after being written is a sign both of how far we’ve come & how far we still have to go. Or maybe more specifically, i find that it speaks to me where i am & points the way forward in agriculture.

So, when i read the quote above, i was pleasantly surprised to find that i had to disagree with Wendell on this point. Or at least about the part about us eating thoughtlessly. Heather & i recently attended the Harvest and Hunger forum, put on in Saskatoon by the Saskatchewan Council for International Cooperation (SCIC). People from across the province were in attendance & ranged from people new to food issues to seasoned farmers to urban beekeepers to conscious consumers. Our keynote speaker was Frances Moore Lappé, who had many wonderful things to tell us about the future of ecology & food. The second day was full of workshops on theory & practice around various food issues. It was so wonderful to be around so many people who were taking an interest in where their food was coming from & how it was being produced.

I’ve heard debates on what is the best method (or gimmick) when it comes to food: local or organic? meat-free? some other thing? I don’t think there’s one answer, but there is something very important to notice in the fact that we are having these debates, which is that more & more people are trying to eat more mindfully/thoughtfully.

So, while i agree with much of what he has to say in general, i am proud to say that i disagree with Wendell Berry about the fact that we are thoughtless eaters. I can only imagine that people like Mr Berry & Ms Lappé have paved the way for people like me. For that i’m very thankful.

For a few more of my thoughts around food production, you can go here.

——————

*Thich Nhat Hanh

**Wendell Berry

(Soon-to-be) Luthier in La Rivière

Today i went on a nature walk. It was windy & cold. I took these three pictures & went back to where i’m staying.

Then i had a little photo shoot by myself. These are a few of the activities with which i hope to occupy my time (when i’m not learning to build guitars, that is):

Oh, & by the way, this is where i’m staying:

It’s the greenish one on the left, not the wooden one on the bench on the right. I’m also able to spend time in the house (in which the photo shoot happened) where my hosts live. It’s roomier than the tent.
Tomorrow i start the course. I’m very excited & very nervous.

I’m Freaking Out, People.

I’m sitting in a plastic chair, the kind that are ubiquitous in most of South Sudan. (I’m in Kenya right now.) I’m thinking about travelling back to Canada. This does not freak me out. What freaks me out is thinking that we are going to be living in Canada.

We haven’t lived in Canada since January 2007. The times that we’ve been in Canada since then, we’ve been in visitor mode. This time we’re going back for the foreseeable future. I’m excited about the possibilities of living back in Canada, but when i actually think, “We are going back to Canada to live.” i get a bit panicky.

We don’t normally ask explicitly for feedback or discussion on our blog, but this time i’m seeking out other people who’ve lived away from their home countries for a substantial amount of time & then moved back. What helped during that transition? What didn’t? Other advice for moving back to a home country?

Thank you.

A (Kidney) Stone’s Throw Away…

Well, hello, dear readers. Seems it’s been a while since i posted & the past week’s events would seem to dictate that another post from yours truly is in order.

As most of you are aware, we came to a decision to leave our MCC post in Rumbek, South Sudan at the end of March 2012. (For a bit of an explanation, go here.) Our flight to Nairobi, Kenya was scheduled for Friday, March 30. We left on Wednesday, March 28. Now for the why.

After our weekly movie night at a local hotel & restaurant (we watched Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy; seemed interesting, but almost everyone in attendance felt that they had somehow missed some key points that would have made it more interesting) we went home. I had been feeling the need to go Number One, but there was nothing there. Or at least there was nothing to show for my efforts. This feeling was getting frustrating because it was intense enough that i couldn’t fall asleep. At about two o’clock in the morning i began to feel an acute pain in the lower left side of my abdomen. I thought that now for sure going to the bathroom would help. I went & heather came a long, just in case. Shortly after i arrived at the latrine, heather went to wake our German neighbour who is a trained nurse. When they arrived back, i was doubled over on the steps in front of the latrine. I could hardly walk at this point, but with help managed to make it back to our house & then soon to our Land Cruiser.

We went first to the UNMISS compound to find the doctor that is supposed to be on call for emergency situations. When we finally were cleared to enter the compound, we discovered that the nurse who was attending to me couldn’t reach the doctor on his mobile & didn’t know where the doctor’s room was. The nurse administered a pain killer & suggested that we go to the state hospital to find a doctor who could put a catheter in. It was thought that i was retaining urine for some reason, possibly a urinary tract infection.

Not sure how many of you out there have been in a developing country hospital, but it’s a bit of an adventure. We arrived there between four & five o’clock. We were greeted by someone who was a clinician or a clinical technician or something with one or both of those words in the title in some combination. Not a doctor. There was no doctor. There was also no electricity. This man was able to put in a catheter, so did just that. Heather & another woman held the flashlights while i had a procedure done which i would prefer never happen to me again. Oh, also a bat flew into the room & circled the ceiling a few times, which i assume is part of normal operating procedure for the insertion of a catheter.

After this, in combination with the pain killer, i was feeling much more at ease; able to walk more uprightly & breathe easier. We arrived back at our home at about six o’clock in the morning. I took an antibiotic used in the treatment of urinary tract infections & went to sleep.

When i woke up at eight, i could pee again. Oh, frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

At this point in the narrative we still had no definitive diagnosis as to what exactly had transpired within my abdominal region, & since we had had no luck finding a doctor, we decided that it would be best if we pushed up our leaving day & see a doctor as soon as possible. We were very fortunate to be able to secure two seats on the Wednesday flight.

It was a hasty departure & we weren’t able to do everything on our list of things to be done before we left, & good-byes were rushed. This was sad & a bit nerve-wracking. But we were confident that it was the right thing to do.

I saw the doctor the next morning. He ordered many tests, one of which was almost as much fun as the catheter adventure. That afternoon we had a confirmed diagnosis: a kidney stone. The little dude is about 2mm. It has passed from my kidney & is just waiting to move into my bladder & continue its journey to freedom. I’ve been told the worst of the pain is over, but i’ve got some heavy duty pain killers, just in case.

As of right now, i’m not in any pain, so no need to worry, friends.

Evacuation

I wrote this last week when Joel was in Nairobi and I was processing the possibility of our early departure from South Sudan. It has been a difficult decision but one made slightly easier if I see it as an “evacuation order”: something that needs to happen for our own wellbeing. I wasn’t sure if I needed to post this “processing blog” but do think we should tell our avid readers (all 2 of you), who have chosen to journey with us on this adventure, where we are at and our plans for the future.

***

In the past two years, at the back of our minds, we have been prepared for the possibility of evacuation. We knew that coming to a place that is only recently out of war would mean there would still be times when the situation could become unstable. In 2010 during the election and referendum we knew that when we left for Nairobi we might not be able to return. I don’t think this is a pessimistic view because we always left with the hope of returning and we rejoiced in celebration during those historic moments of South Sudan’s journey. But the reality is that we keep our ears tuned to insecurities in the area, we have a quick run bag packed for a hasty departure, and in case we can’t leave, we have food and water stocks in our house. This has become our reality.

Our evacuation orders have come but they are much different than I imagined they would be.

We need to leave, not (directly) because of bombs or rebel soldiers, but because our bodies and minds have told us (in more ways than one) that it is time. And professionals in Nairobi have told us that if we choose not to listen and if we try to stay we will not be able to work well and we will not be able to live well. We, ourselves, have grieved with people who could not leave (for whatever reasons) and who suffered, traumatized by their experiences. And now we grieve as we think about leaving this place that has taught us many things, given us many questions, and shaped us in ways that we do not even know yet.

***

After discussions, prayers, and discernment we have decided to say goodbye to Rumbek at the end of March.

Drought-resistant Plants

NOTE: I’m currently in Nairobi, undergoing a psychiatric assessment & counselling sessions, after which it will be clearer what path back to Canada we will be taking. I wrote the following journal entry shortly before leaving Rumbek.

There’s a lot to be learned from the natural world. Most of the plants here on our compound have evolved over time to become drought-resistant. There are almost six months of extremely dry conditions—akin to the harsh conditions of a prairie winter—but when the rains come, everything blooms into being.

We have a small garden which we water with the grey water from dishes, laundry, & showers. When we were gone for Christmas & some holiday time the whole thing shrivelled—flowers, aloe veras, lemon grass; we returned to a brown wasteland. After a few days of grey-watering the aloes gained their colour back. After a few weeks, the lemon grass was looking more spry. Now, at almost one month, flowers are appearing again in our tiny garden.

(NOTE: I took a photo of the new flowers, but haven’t uploaded them to this computer yet. Said photo will appear here someday.)

 

When plants get what they need, it’s amazing how quickly they begin to thrive again. My hope is that by getting the help i need, i too can begin to thrive again.

Gratitude

Over a year ago we got an email from Hanley Mennonite Church saying that they would like to do something nice for us. Well, how can you turn that down? They said they would like to make us a quilt and while I wasn’t sure that a quilt was something we needed in South Sudan, I supposed we would be able to find many good uses for it. And, as I said, who were we to turn down a lovely and thoughtful gift?

When my parents came to visit us a few months ago they brought along the hand-made quilt. It is full of squares that were created by the different church members, just for us. It is just lovely.

But it came with another gift as well. When my parents brought the quilt they also brought unseasonably cool nights. We did need the quilt.

So many blessings came with this present and for this we are most thankful.

Thank you Hanley Mennos!