UNFINISHED DOCUMENTARY, KINGDOMS OF THE RADIO | 1995
Whatever Zongo had picked up at the airport, once he made his connection back down in the City, he was flush for a bit. I had a more-or-less steady paycheck from the Forestry Department, as long as I kept the state from burning down, but the rest of our growing family weren’t exactly Rockefellers. We needed a line of income, at least enough to keep us in beans, rice, and good ol’ Red Mountain Wine.
After Sticky came out to see what we were doing with all the salvage, he and Bravo hit off and decided to get a grow going together. The soil around the ranch had been left to the feral chickens long enough, that whatever we threw down, popped right back out of the ground before you could say, “Johnny Appleseed.”
The idea of a marijuana grow wasn’t exactly to everyone’s liking. Some heads were worried that it might draw the heat, and since we were relatively closer to town than a lot of farms, they might try to make an example of us without, you know, too much effort.
Later, everyone would vote on things that could affect the greater group, but at this point, we were still figuring it out—and small enough—that if someone was inspired to do something, and willing to put the work in, it usually just happened.
Román Leão 
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