Planting the Rain to Grow Abundance | Brad Lancaster | TEDxTucson

Translator: Elena Symeonidou Reviewer: Denise RQ So when I grew up here in Tucson, Arizona, my favorite game was floods. Then he would go out to the sandbox and spend hours and hours building these elaborate sand cities and then he would turn on the hose and wash it all away in a catastrophic flood. I still remember the screams of all the imaginary people: "Please help me!" and then... but don't worry, no one was hurt because right at the last moment, before their part of the ruined city fell into the churning waters, I imagined lifting them all to safety.

And then when everything was destroyed, of course, I would rebuild it and do it over and over again because I loved this game. But I think it might have affected the water bill (Laughs) because it wasn't long before they banned me from using a hose in the sandbox. At first I was devastated, but then I decided to find a different way. And I did it. Because I realized that there was another source of water, one ignored, one free:

rain

! Because, you see, we had this dry creek bed or 'creek' in our front yard. That thing was dry most of the year, but when it

rain

ed hard, it flowed like a torrent.

Then I thought, "All right! I'll build my sand cities again on these dry stream beds." So all I had to do was wait for it to rain. And I waited and waited. But eventually, the storm clouds gathered and then when the rains came, the flooding was epic. I mean, there was a volume of water that far exceeded anything you could get from a hose. Then like, "Oh yeah! I don't need no stinky hose! I've got the rain! The flood's back!" (Laughs) I became very passionate about that. (laughs) Although I no longer follow the flood game, that lesson of how much potential we have in the rain has never left me. continues to drive my work and play to this day.

So here in the desert community of Tucson, Arizona, we only get 11 inches of rain a year. However, each year more rain falls on Tucson's surface than all of Tucson and all its inhabitants consume municipal water in a year. Do you understand? More rain falls in Tucson in a year that Tucson consumes water annually. We already have everything we need and it is given to us free of charge from heaven. But you wouldn't know it because we pull the vast majority of that directly from the system. So let's look at that. In 1904, the Santa Cruz River still flowed year-round through Tucson, Arizona.

Not just after a big rain but all year round. We still had these sponge-like forests along the river that would absorb that rain and plant in the living soils. Compare that to today, and by over-pumping our groundwater, we have killed the river and the sponge-like forests that used to line it and help recharge it and the groundwater. And then we replace those sponges of vegetation with road pavement, buildings, and compacted bare earth, which causes a lot more flooding, because now water runs off those hard surfaces much faster than before. To replace all the rain we drained, we then pumped water 300 miles and 3,000 feet of height and elevation from the Colorado River to Tucson and Phoenix at a cost of more than $80 million a year, and the death of the downstream reach of the Colorado River.

I hate this story because it's not unique to Tucson, I see it almost everywhere. We waste the natural

abundance

we already have and spend enormous amounts of resources trying to replace what we waste by taking it from other people and other places, making scarcity worse for everyone. So what do we do? It turns out that any part of the world that has a dry or even humid climate with only one dry season has a rich history and traditions of inversion, of harvesting rain rather than draining it. This was largely forgotten when we got mechanical pumps that could move water uphill, so I was virtually unaware of the potential of harvesting rainwater until I had the opportunity to travel to Africa, visit my family, and then explore on my own. .

It was in the driest region of Zimbabwe that I met water farmer, Mr Zephanaiah Phiri Maseko, who taught himself, then his family and many others, including me, how to harvest rain or, as he says, plant the rain . He followed this path when, many years ago, he found himself struggling to support his family of eight without work or income. How was he going to feed them? So he turned to the only two things he felt he had to get out of the situation: a seven-acre eroded plot of land and the Bible, which he used as a kind of gardening manual.

Because he see, he was so inspired by the story of Genesis and the garden of Eden, that he thought, "Well, I should

grow

a garden like that. And the water resources that will support it." How do you go about doing that? The same way we all can: with long, thoughtful observation. So. Every time it rained, he was there running, watching, seeing what was happening. And, as he said, get very wet but be very happy. (Laughs) Because he was learning. He saw areas where things weren't working, such as where rain didn't infiltrate the ground but instead flowed too fast causing erosion and flooding downstream.

He learned how to fix it by looking at what was working, like where there were rocks or vegetation perpendicular to the slope and the flow, slowing it down, extending that flow, allowing sediment to fall, moisture to stay, seeds to germinate, and vegetation to

grow

. Then a living sponge began to form in the place where there had been a sterile drain. So creating such living sponges, that's what rain

planting

means. So Mr. Phiri did this from the top of his basin and from the beginning of the water flow to the bottom of his land. Everywhere slowing down, spreading and infiltrating the water.

And by doing this, he was much more manageable and could move all the water with the free power of gravity; no pumps needed. Here he would direct runoff from this road into the adjacent basin, lined with multi-use vegetation, turning this into this. And so, once the water infiltrated the soil, the soil was the tank and the water would be lost to a much lesser degree through evaporation. He could then access the ground tank water through living pumps of vegetation, and its fruits, its shelter, its livestock fodder, and more. And by doing this, even in a drought year, the Phiris were able to get two or three harvests from their crops, while others who did not plant in the rain were lucky to get only one.

And they could also access the rain they planted in the form of rising groundwater, which created seasonal springs and filled their hand-dug wells. And the rain that the Phiris planted also filled the wells of their neighbors next door and downriver. And so, rain seeding began to become popular because people saw that there were other people in the community whose wells ran dry when they were not rain seeding. Because the difference? The difference is that those whose wells were running dry simply continued to take water but never gave it back, while the Phiris made sure to keep putting more water back into the system than they took out.

Then it became popular and I was able to visit dozens of other farmers inspired or taught by the Phiris who had also turned dying drains into vital sponges. This inspired me and I told Mr. Phiri how scared I was about the water situation in my community and that I no longer wanted to contribute to the depletion of the water by consuming it, I wanted to leave and I asked him. for his advice. At that moment, he patted me on the shoulder and said, "Well, you can't leave, because if you run away from your problems, you're just going to plant and grow problems wherever you go.

So you have to try." and discover how to turn those problems into solutions. And if you achieve it, well, you will have the ability to do it wherever you are." That challenge, that resonated in my core. I knew that this was a challenge that I could meet because I had seen it in the example that the Phiris and those to them lived. who had inspired. I just had to figure out how to modify things to fit the unique conditions and context of my home. So, I returned home and found this: a dry, run-down one-eighth-acre property that my brother and I had just bought north of downtown Tucson.

And how did we start? Well, the same as the Phiris. With observation. So, during the first big rain, we were running and observing, seeing what was happening. And we were losing a lot of water on the street, but worse, there was a lot more water coming into the house. (Laughs) I mean, I was a victim of the flood game from my childhood. (Laughs) So, my brother and I were like, "Man, we have to hit it back to the game! Turning flood into harvest!" So we did it and diverted the water away from the house into these sponge-like ponds of mulch and vegetation, which would absorb it quickly.

And then, in times without rain, we redirected the gray water from our home, which once used wash water from showers, laundry or sinks, into the landscape, turning that wastewater into another free resource. In this way, we discovered that everything we needed to grow the vegetation that would provide shade, shelter and would beautify the house was the water that drained from the house. This allowed us to break an unnecessary addiction ubiquitous throughout the United States. It turns out that the average single-family home in the US consumes between 30 and 50% of its drinking water to water your garden. This is what happens when we use hose water or drip irrigation water to replace the rainwater we waste.

So we don't do that. Instead, we plant native, climate-appropriate food plants that They can thrive on rainwater and collected gray water alone. We do not throw away or vacuum our leaves. Leaves are called leaves because we are supposed to leave them! (Laughter) So we harvest them, along with the cut prunings, into our water collection ponds, creating these fertile mulch sponges that quickly absorb water, so we don't lose it to evaporation and we don't have puddles or mosquitoes. We also have no flooding, because we make sure we always have an overflow route, in case there is a massive storm that exceeds what we can contain and infiltrate.

And even that overflowing water is used as a resource, because we direct it to multiple downstream strategies. So in eight years, we were able to turn this into this, and no drinking water is used, no city water, no imported water, no well water. Just rainwater and runoff from the roads and streets. And because we plant so many native plants, many or dozens of species of native birds and pollinators have returned, and the shade from the trees reduces summer temperatures by ten degrees, which also reduces the cost of cooling adjacent homes. And it has become popular to the point where so many more neighbors do this that we now have a lot of people walking and cycling, which has reduced crime.

Because now there are friendlier eyes on the street. And inside the street, we noticed that the ditch would flow like a stream in heavy rain, so we cut the ditch to direct street runoff into the street-side basins. Now, this was illegal at the time, okay? (laughs) So we cut the sidewalk on a Sunday when no one in town was looking. (Laughter) But the results were surprising because we discovered that every street everywhere can be a shady corridor of native edible trees and other life forms, irrigated with nothing but the rain that falls on the street, controlling flooding at the same time. .

So, we went to the city to legalize and improve the practice. And then we encouraged it and now it is even mandatory in the construction and renovation of new urban roads. (Applause) This, this promotional work is key. This advocacy works to change practices, policies and laws. Because without will there is no way. So, to further awaken that will, I wrote and published instructional books, gave countless talks, held workshops with others, and organized annual rain and tree-

planting

projects in our neighborhood and others. And in our neighborhood alone, since 1996, we have planted more than 1,400 food trees. (Applause) Each year we harvest more than a million gallons of rain that was previously depleted in the neighborhood.

But this is just the beginning! I mean, we can and need to harvest tens of millions of gallons more in that neighborhood alone and billions more gallons across the community. So you don't have to be a homeowner to do this, or even have a garden. Because most of the planting we do is in the public realm, along the street or in the street, in common spaces, like here with the roundabout to calm traffic that collects water, or here, a chicane to calm traffic that collects water. You can do it on school grounds, church grounds, you can even do it in parking lots and parks.

And you can do it in all climates, wet and dry, as it mitigates the extremes. Reduces flooding in wet times,reduces drought in dry seasons. The only thing that changes when you go from one climate to another are the plants you use. And you can do it on all scales. When you start collecting rainwater and you experience that in your landscape, that leads you to collect rainwater for washing, cooking and drinking. Sponge neighborhoods lead to sponge cities. Revived streams lead to revived rivers. So what drains do you have in your life that you could turn into sponges?

The work is easy. The difficult thing is the change of mentality. Because planting rain is a 180 degree change from the way we normally do things today. It's about moving from a scarcity mentality to an

abundance

mentality. It's about using what you already have, not what you buy or import. It's about partnering with natural systems, not fighting them. It's about growing more life and potential, not paving over it. And as soon as you do this, as soon as you experience it in the rain, you immediately see how it all works, it all makes sense. You see how you are a key part of a solution and not a problem.

But this carries a serious risk because, even if it's three in the morning and it starts to rain, you're probably going to run outside in your underwear just to see your sinks and tanks fill with water, and when you see all that accumulated abundance, you'll reach for these muffins. and you will do a little dance on the way to the dance. ! When you see it all happening, you'll shout, "I don't need no stinking hose. I've got the rain! The harvest has begun!" (Applause) Thank you. In memory and gratitude to Mr. Zephaniah Phiri Maseko 1927 - September 1, 2015 (Applause) (Applause)