Think.Eat.Save. . .Reduce Your FOODPRINT!

I know most of you would greatly oppose my statement that ‘food somewhere is food nowhere’ but I am in my gloves ready to prove you wrong. I am out to eat and live so that I can give a testimony to the coming generations the importance of clearing food and forwarding only plates to the sink.

It is not long since I was at Uhuru Park, Nairobi in the ‘Kenyans for Kenya’ campaign whose aim was to raise funds to feed empty stomachs in the North of the very country. Elsewhere in the country farmers were complaining of bumper harvests that had staled in the shamba; maize, potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, kales…gone bad. All these as a result of inefficient storage, poor infrastructure to ferry goods to the starving North and worse of all the neighbor has plenty of it and therefore no need for charity. As the farmer was cursing of wasted efforts, the wasted food was hungry because it was not  consumed.

The human feeding lifestyle is growing more and more unique with time! While the slum family is fighting over ‘ugali-salt’ supper, the elite’s pride is to throw half-consumed chicken into the bin. It is so shocking that food for pigs is a hot cake business at the dumping site especially from the posh garbage. I guess it must have been an Easter celebration if the wasted food found itself in the gates of children’s home or those street urchins!  Will it not be fair enough for you Mr/Ms ‘foody’ thinking over this and taking necessary action?

My roommate is never at peace when he sees half-empty cooking pot on the cooker. He could better witness food remains than clear his plate! The room conditioning is gone pathetic because he never empties the rotten tomatoes. He brought so much from home and was never at ease when I gave out some to our neighbor. I wish you could hold to my granny’s ‘left-over theory’. Please promise to cook enough and purchase wisely.

I like attending parties and social gatherings. In most cases I witness people eat themselves sick! It is so funny that the uneaten food in such functions can account for almost half of the preparation budget! I think it never kills for you to serve what can hold your stomach; neither does it cost anything to go for a top-up. Safe the rest for tomorrow because you never know what it brings.

Walking across the retail market a strange smell hits my nose. This is from the decomposing heaps of perished foodstuffs piled in the open space. The trader made haste to harvest the maximum even with the knowledge of market situation. He even disposed some that appeared 'ugly'.  It is high time we stop emphasizing on appearance and go for nutrition!

Just think of that time you will be yearning for your favorite meal and it misses! The very food you were consuming carelessly has gone too expensive or no longer exists. You saw it go into waste in that conscious mind and now your health is compromised because of the decomposing gas inhalation. The very gas that accelerates global warming! The leachate contaminated water you drunk is now a threat to your meager salary. Unsightly dumping sites have replaced aesthetic sceneries. You will soon turn into the wild for easily accessible food but remember it is shot lived too! Let today’s surplus be tomorrow’s saving!

SOURCES (LINKS)

United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP)

Tree Hugger

Think Eat Save

-Abednego Osindi (Bsc. Environmental Science, UoN)-

© 2013. All rights reserved @Abedos Media!

THE POISONED BIRD.

Like a particle under free fall,

I saw it come down with a thud.
Thought it were having fun,
Not realizing the pain.

Two days gone by,
And at the valley bottom
Lies the bird carcass
That has been feeding on domestic grains.

Beautiful feathers scattered,
Not to be replaced by new ones
But gone for good.
Never to be seen again.

Nostrills torn apart
By the scavenging ants.
Will they survive thw poison?
I guess they may follow suit.

Elegant scaly feet,
Peeling back with haste.
To expose the fleshy section
And accelerate saprophytism.

They enchroached the habitat,
Aiming to change the bird habit
That never worked even a bit.
Best way was to exterminate it.

All rights reserved @Aosindi 2012!
Visit http://thegreenblooddrops.blogspot.com for more envtal articles. Thank you.

AFRICAN CONSERVATIONIST: All Activists: Help Protect Maui's Dolphins | Conservation Action Network | World Wildlife Fund

AFRICAN CONSERVATIONIST: All Activists: Help Protect Maui's Dolphins | Conservation Action Network | World Wildlife Fund

The Cry of Mother Nature!

It has taken me millenniums, centuries and decades,

My children well kept, tendered under strict codes,

In a beauty pageant, I can assure you of all the accolades,

A glance at my elegant scenery, your wrinkle fades,

All the family members have been one great ecosystem,

That surpasses any human system,

From the tree canopy down the stem,

From the ground cover deep the root meristem.

Down the valley the river could flow,

Fish jumping up and down for to swallow,

In the mud the hippopotamus could wallow,

Water for your use could always allow.

The white snow caps on the mountain peaks,

Moraine dammed lakes from ice streaks,

Up there the climber speaks,

I wonder how he sneaks.

Forests in full range biodiversity,

Could naturally overcome any adversity,

Didn't matter how punching was the animosity,

Each tree species ensured its dynasty.

You promised to replace one with two or three,

But you forgot to replace the tree,

Is it because you get it for free?

You have totally gone against the decree.

Look at how am suffering the ordeal,

You went out for the real deal,

Sneaking and crawling to steal,

To secure your daily meal.

You have invited global warming,

Through forest clearing and forwarding,

Ice caps are melting and rivers shrinking,

Soon everything good will be nothing.

Waste disposal has become careless,

A disturbance translating to my children going restless,

Both terrestrial and aquatic have become helpless,

With their extinction I will become valueless.

I promise to fight back,

It will be worse luck,

All of you in a sack,

Will be suffering in stacks!

MEAT THAT FOUND DAD GUILTY.

My siblings always complained that I was dad's favorite son. That was true because I was the one who could always welcome him home after a long and tiring day. Running at him and clutching on his legs every evening touched him to the heart. He could never miss a polythene bag and in it my favorite food. My dad used to work at a rich farmers shamba in our village. His work was to trap moles that were a nuisance at the shamba. The abandoned telephone wires helped out so much in his mole trapping business, thanks to the wireless communication that has seen a abandonment of the wired one. It happened that the farmer had large herds of cattle- some for milk and others for beef. His good friend, Ken, working at the abattoir could give him a share of sneaked meat. In fact my dad could help out when meat demands were high especially at nights. Life was really good. I could not eat if meat was not one of the foods on the table. My elder brother could be forced to rush to the butchery for it.
There was something strange with the butchery meat as always. It tasted differently! It was never delicious as that dad brought home. I never liked it. What was wrong? It could leave me worried because it was cooked by the very person-mum, same ingredients incorporated and taken with ugali as always. It just ruined my nights. This was a mystery but I never dared mention this to dad.

It was on Saturday evening when my dad received that his help was needed at his boss's abattoir. He hurriedly dressed up in his long black coat, black lace-up shoe and a yellow 'seng'enge ni ng'ombe' cap. I searched for his torch which was always a constant to him, in fact he could better miss the coat but not the torch. Dad promised to come back with my favorite food and disappeared into the darkness. I was so happy to hear that, meaning my night was going to be a good one because the following day the delicious meal could be on the table. It took him long to return. Dad had never gone for more than four hours. He had left at 8:00 pm and it was approaching 1:00 am but there were no signs of him returning. My mum was so much worried and could not take it anymore. He woke my elder brother up who hurriedly rushed to uncle David's house. The three of them- my brother, uncle David and his son set out to the rich farmers place.

The boss's words left all their mouths agape. His words were short and to the point: ' I haven't called John today. For you information my abattoir has never operated at night!' Wait! Where could this man be going all those nights he gets out? Where was he getting that meat? Maybe there another abattoir he worked for those nights he went out. Worse of all, he had left his phone at in the house! All his close friends' phones were out of reach. Only one went through. Francis could spend most of his free time with my dad. He didn't pick his first call. All the heartbeats accelerated even more. 'Were they robbed?' asked uncle David. ' But where were they going?', he countered himself. May be they were at the bar. We assumed it was the case though we knew dad was not not a frequent drunkard. A second attempt to call delivered. The snoring voice over the phone was an indication that Francis was dead a sleep. He had seen dad two days ago. Ha said he knew where dad could have gone. Francis promised to be back early the next morning from his eland across the neighboring town. He promised that everything will be alright. It was a long night.

I can admit that I have never experienced such a morning in my life. Cattle mowing in the closed shade, noisy chicken in the kitchen and the cold hearth because the fireplace was not operational. Worse of all, it never anybody's mind that it was Sunday, the family worship day. My grandmother was grumbling all over the compound mourning her eldest son's sudden disappearance. This sent mum into tears. She almost collapsed, thanks to aunt Jane who patted her shoulders all through. The rest of the family totally confused as well.

Then came long awaited Francis. He immediately summoned my elder brother and David all the to Ken's homage. Ken is that man who worked at the rich man's abattoir.He lived across the stream next to the village market. They met Ken so tired in such early a morning catching some warmth from the jiko. Here they received a mixture of good and bad news at the same time. Dad was alive. Thanks be to God. 'John is at the police station and will arraigned in court tomorrow', Ken said this winking at Francis. My father wasn't a robber! Neither was he a cattle rustler! Why did the police have to take him to court? How did Ken know? Francis hurriedly cut the interrogation short and Ken was left quite disturbed. Did he know what has happening behind the curtains?

The following day in court. Francis was not with us. Dad at the right chamber and another man in a green uniform at the left chamber. I wondered why he was limping as he entered the court room? It was the first time I saw my dad cry, worse, in public. Maybe because he had missed his family overnight. I was happy hat he would be out, a clean an harmless man as he was. I would enjoy eating the tasty meat ever and ever. The prosecutor went through the charges. Nobody believed what they heard. The court room went silent for a couple of minutes . . .there was John- dad, defending himself in all manners. I never believed a single word this man was saying. He unveiled a very touching secretive project they had been carrying out with his two other friends who were not in court that day. I then understood why Francis and Ken went missing on Sunday evening.

My dad was partly employed at the farmers home.He could leave by 3:00pm together with Francis and and Ken head out to their elands. Ken himself never worked at the abattoir. The telephone wire was not used to trap moles but something else. The higher the successes, the more we could feast on the family table. If they failed during the day, they could set out at night to try their luck. Dad's favorite torch was used to blind the target. I was almost getting the answer to that mysterious meat.

That night was not a lucky one for the two. I think Francis' God guided him to the neighboring town during those two days. Otherwise he could have been in the mix too. The guards were very armed that particular night. Ken managed to escape the wrath but alas to dad. He got short on his left leg while carrying that goat-like animal on his shoulders. That green uniformed officer in the left chamber of the court was leading capture troop . . . 'According to chapter 44 section 6 c of the Wildlife Act, this court has found you guilty of. . . you will therefore serve a term of ten years imprisonment as a lesson to those people acting in such a manner', the judge hit the table. Aunt Jane was again their for mum though she was overwhelmed too.

Mystery was completely unveiled. The soft, tasty delicious meat did not come from cattle. It was bush meat! In fact that goat-like animal in the courtroom was a dik dik they had blinded before the wardens tracked them down. My dad was a wild game hunter which is prohibited in our country.

Why did you have to do that dad? Do you know how my mum and your mum are crying for you? You took a very big risk just to feed your family! We dearly miss you.