Weather breasts

Most of the agricultural economists and engineers I have been meeting this month are men. Oddly enough, so are the farmers. It seems that here in Tanzania men are mostly responsible for crops like coffee. Women on the other hand, tend products like maize and bananas. They use the income from these products to handle the expenses of the house. For this reason, it made me laugh when traveling with me Kenyan Coffee Business Adviser guide took me to coffee plantations near a community called Rombo and complained that the sheer number of bananas in the fields was stifling the coffee. Those are some hardworking and determined women, I thought to myself. Planting as many bananas as possible, they increase their incomes to the best of their ability. From the looks of it, they were doing pretty damn well.
It was market day for green bananas. Almost everywhere you looked, women, tall and short, wrapped in traditional kicoy fabrics, meandered balancing huge bunches of green bananas on their heads (the mastery of this particular skill seems to be an inherent trait in women across the world, I am not sure where us American and European women went wrong and feel it is a skill I should work on). They all advanced to numerous trucks congregated on one side of the dirt road, where piles and piles of green, assorted flashes of color as people bustled about, and dust dust dust in the dry air.
Arriving at the cooperative office, we got out of the 4x4 truck and were greeted by a bright eyed group of farmers. Moments later, we all piled back into the pickup truck to visit two model farms. These farmers are hopefully being pulled into an informal network of local mentorship, through with they will disseminate some of the knowledge they have gained through their own innovations to other community members.
At the second farm, I was comically reminded of my place amongst this group of smiley men. We pulled in, and all stumbled over tree stumps until we were in among the flowering coffee plants. As we walked between the closely set rows holding back and brushing branches heavy drops of rain began falling from the sky. I reached the group examining a plant and an old round farmer turned to me, gestured and said something quite involved in Swahili. I nodded. Everyone laughed. (Since my arrival, this situation of me nodding and others laughing is not uncommon, one of the consequences of not speaking the language I suppose.) Cyril, one of the agronomists with whom I have spent the last few days tapped me on the shoulder to explain the punch line. “Hilary, he says that it is raining because you have brought your breasts into the coffee field.”
I looked stunned for a moment and then started laughing. How does one respond to a statement like that? At my laughter, everyone else started laughing again. I asked if that was common logic, was informed that it was, and then told them it made sense; after all, we women are powerful beings.
So I chock this one up to the multitude of new knowledge I have gathered this year. I am becoming a more empowered woman all the time. After all, who knew that I could control African weather with my breasts?