During one of my routine walks through the community, I encountered a man on the road who immediately drew my attention with his thoughtful demeanor. He greeted me warmly and asked if I knew anything about diseases affecting pawpaw seedlings, explaining that many of his seedlings had been dying. I admitted I did not know much but offered to visit his nursery and conduct some research. A few days later, I went to his home to see the nursery and that visit became the beginning of an inspiring conversation about environmental conservation and sustainable practices.
In his compound, rows of seedlings stood neatly in place on one corner, and young trees dotted the surrounding area. As we walked among the seedlings, he shared his pride in nurturing them and his broader passion for environmental conservation. Our discussion soon shifted to energy use in the community, and I introduced the idea of charcoal briquettes made from cow dung as a way to reduce deforestation. His eyes lit up with recognition, a mix of nostalgia and curiosity. He chuckled and said, “You know, we used to light fire with cow dung long ago.” I could see it in his gaze: memories of simpler times, when every bit of waste had a purpose. To him, it was just an old practice, a part of life before modern conveniences took over. Yet here it was again, returning not as a relic of the past but as a solution for today’s environmental challenges.
The following week, he invited me to show him how the briquettes are made and together with his family, we mixed, shaped, and dried the cow dung briquettes. The air was thick with the earthy smell as our hands sank into the sticky mixture. His children laughed as some briquettes crumbled while others turned out perfectly. There we were, holding what was once waste in our hands; not to throw it away, but to transform it into energy. At the end of the activity, we were all amazed by the fact that with 67 briquettes, not only had some trees been spared, but the family had also saved money that would have been used to buy charcoal.
On that day, I realized something profound: our communities often already hold the wisdom they need. Sometimes it just waits to be remembered, adapted, and shared. The past does not always need replacing; sometimes, it only needs to be seen through a new lens.