"Unless they have chiles, they think they're not eating."
-Bartalome de las Casas, 1552.
INTRODUCTION:
"I became as consumed by the "cultural selection" of fruits and seeds, as Darwin's disciples are by the "natural selection" of bones and beaks."
-Gary Nabham, Ethnoecologist.
This winter many different elements came together in my life, in such a way, that made it possible to step out of all my activities here, for about 10 weeks. I spent that time exploring the country, plants, people and language of Mexico.
This document was assembled as an Biology Independent Study Project, through Lane Community College. The official focus was the plants, and biodiversity of Mexico, such a rich global heritage. This report does contains a lot of information on the plants and ecology of the regions that I visited. However as a gardener, a permaculturalist and as a human being, the magic for me really lies in the cultural context. To this end I have included as much as I could, on the cultural uses of the plants I collected. As well, I have tried to include anecdotes and stories on a variety of experiences with both plants and people. It is almost impossible for me to separate the biological and cultural, the personal and political, in my own life, and this journey was no exception. Entries, taken directly from my personal journal appear in italics. I hope that they help give a sense of the mood, and increase the readability for a non-plant-geek audience. These entries include some Spanish words and phrases, that I've put in quotations. In most cases I think that the context elucidates the meaning.
Ever since I first heard of the Zapatistas, eight years ago, when I was a fledgling activist, I've wanted to go to Chiapas. In the last five years or so, with a real focus in my life being plants and sustainable agriculture, Mexico came up again. Particularly Oaxaca, the original home of "Maiz," and its ancestor Teosinte. After first visiting Alan Kapular's green house three years ago, I've fantasized about seeing Salvia divinorum in its native habitat. As well as many other things. Now, I'm heading south with a pound of Painted Mountain Indian Corn in my pack, to give away, and visions of ancestral varieties, in my head.
Further study recently, has shown me the importance of Mexico, for the biosphere. A major global center of biodiversity, 10% of the species on Earth live in Mexico, while it occupies only 1.4% of the land mass. The country's tropical latitude and incredible variation in topography, provides micro-climates and ecological niches for over 26,000 species of plants.
Four years ago, fresh off a season on a Biodynamic vegetable farm, in upstate New York, I headed across the country, and south, down to the end of the Baja peninsula. With out of a command of the language, and only six weeks, it only whet my curiosity. I did, however, discover an amazing Botanical Garden, called Buena Fortuna, just a few kilometers north of the Tropic of Cancer, on the Gulf of California. It was only their second or third season, and a month before we got there, they had had a hurricane induced flood come through and cover the place with over 3m. of water, but even still, it changed my life. Three thousand species already, living roofs, composting toilet, the "new ordinal taxonomy of the angiosperms," wild stuff. Opened a lot of doors, to biodiversity, permaculture, botany, and more, I'm sure.
This is where I started this more recent journey. Buena fortuna!
ETHNO-ECOLOGICAL NARRATIVE
"Mountain people in their vertigal archipelagoes of human and natural variety, have become the guardians of irreplacable, global assets." -Derek Denniston.
Mexico, with its geographical location, straddling the Tropic of Cancer, and its violent geological history, creating an interior that is nothing but mountains, has all the physical traits, that characterize regions of high biological wealth and diversity. In fact, the only countries in the world that can boast a greater degree of biological diversity are: Brazil, Colombia, Australia and Indonesia. Home to 26,000 plant species, representing more than 10% of the global flora, Mexico's 1,967,180 square km. territory occupies less than 1.4% of the global land mass. By no coincidence, Mexico is also one of the six countries in which 60% of the worlds remaining 6,500 languages are spoken. There are 54 main indigenous groups, throughout Mexico, speaking 240 languages and dialects. Even just these numbers, go a long way in illustrating the scope of diversity, biological, and cultural. Biology acting on, and informing culture, culture acting on, and informing biology, for me the enchantment is in this interface. Diversity, results from the adaptations of species, and the interactions that occur between them, leading to further adaptations and co-evolution. Gary Nabham claims that "Humans may be the co-evolutionary animal of them all." Adapting agriculture, language and religion to specific bioregions and landscapes. To be in a place where not all of that seamless harmony between people and place is forgotten. Where the daily realities of food and shelter are addressed from what the landscape can provide. Where the processes have been passed down from antiquity, and the activities further root the participants in their place. While Mexico does have its many social, economic and political problems, much of it is still so remote, that it is possible to experience, or at least to observe many of these traditions still being carried out.
photos-seed mural
All of these ideas fill my head as I spent a rainy December pulling English Ivy from the forest at Hendrick's, and other city parks. Looking ahead to a winter spent in the sun, exploring the secrets of the, still mysterious, land to the south. The economic burden of such a journey, bringing me back to the woods, rainy day after rainy day. But then, with a pack full of camping gear, a book full of contacts and e-mail correspondence, and a head full of dreams, I'm off!
photo-bf gate
I started my trip by spending almost three weeks working at the Co-evolutionary Kinship Botanical Garden, Buena Fortuna, at the southern tip of the Baja peninsula. Having been there already, four years prior, I was excited to see all the changes, which were many, both in vegetation, and infrastructure. The co-directors, Gabriel Howearth, of Seeds of Change fame, and his partner Kitzia, are truly inspired and prolific. Getting out of the back of the truck, that I caught a ride in, the last 5 km. from the highway, under the big, January full moon, I hardly recognize the place. I tentatively open the gate, made from the un-peeled sticks of a native shrub. I look around and the vegetation is dense and unfamiliar. Then in the moonlight, I make out squash, nasturtiums, collards and an unidentifiable array of other plants, all sprawling beneath what can only be papayas. All doubt vanishs from my mind. Sure enough Gabriel is still up and we eat mandarins and papayas, left over from the market, under the moon, in the banana grove. What a welcome!
photo-harvest bounty
The dual passions of biodiversity conservation and a low impact organic lifestyle lead to a well orchestrated, explosion of life. Close to 4,000 species, from around the world. A focus on rare and endangered species, genera and families. Everything laid out by relationships at a Super Order level, the highest taxon, within the Classes of the angiosperms. A living example of research that all too often, comes out of The Annals of the Missouri Botanical Garden, and gets stuck in the sterility of academia. An intriguing blend of peacenik sensibility and genetic insight.
photo-staking toms
Friday, 1/24/03:
Incredible diversity, too many papayas, seeds sent to the burn pile. Aloe divisions, a dozen species on our list. Truly an awesome place. A jungle in the desert. Pepper plants as tall as I am. Neem, hibiscus, cinnamon. Plants from Burma, Tahiti, the Philippines. Africa, South America and Europe. Relationships between genera, families, orders and super orders. Sure enough papayas and luffas, both in good supply, are members of the Brassicales. From the different leaf morphology of the tree Legumes, to various flowers of the different passion fruits, the intricate similarities and differences amaze. Not only food, spices, and medicine, but the possibilities for construction and fiber, also seem endless. Palm for thatch, sunhats and timber. Agave for twine. Palo de Arco becomes sticks and posts for construction, harvest boxes, shelves and furniture. Bamboo for walls, rails and conduit.
Life is full, yet simple amidst the complexity of the garden. Much of what is needed for food and building is either grown here or available locally. Shopping at the Red Barn or Jerry's is 2,000 miles away. No organic grains, no heaps of discarded lumber. Reuse a necessity. Seed bags and plastic labels with four other generations, crossed out, and seasons away.
photo-living roof
Wednesday, 1/29/03:
The sound of fruit falling in the night, papaya. passion fruit, there's no telling. So many things it could be.
Made my first plant press today, out of scrap twine and a cardboard box someone at the local "tienda" gave me. I had to buy the newspaper. Dumpster diving doesn't really exist here. What is trash, really is trash, and is usually left along sandy back roads, in the absence of an infrastructure that takes the garbage "away." Every thing even half useful, collects in people's yards.
photos-pilapa and solar oven
Wednesday, 2/5/03:
Leaving in the morning. A sort of farewell gathering this evening, of raw pie and tea. everything grown on site. It was exiting to hear Gabriel and Dahinda talking about all the places that I;m heading to. Kitzia had me draw a tarot card for the road. The Apprentice of Arrows: "I am a messenger, bringing new thoughts that are the seeds of freedom." Of course, I'm leaving here with a bag, full of seeds, and a mission from Gabriel to collect more. The diversity is vanishing and much that is left, won't be there for long. His advice: "Go to the "mercados", connect with growers, find out where they are getting their seed, and collect rare and unusual species and varieties." I told him that I thought that probably everything would seem rare and unusual at first, but that I would try to sort it out. He laughed, I think mostly at the part about sorting it out.
After almost three weeks here, leaving has become almost as big a deal as it was in Eugene. Trying to get it all done, pressed specimens, photos, notes, seeds to take, trying to cram it all in. Yet this time without all of the responsibilities. I can just be grateful for the time spent here. Truly an exceptional place. Truly beautiful people. Today the first trees were planted at Nueva Fortuna. Perhaps I will get to return, to see them grow.
photo-seed cleaning in la paz
In all its diversity, Mexico is home to six distinguishably, well-defined, terrestrial ecological regions. Humid and sub-humid tropical lowlands, humid and sub-humid temperate mountains, deserts and wetlands. All of which I had a chance to visit.
Baja California seems an unlikely conglomeration of desert, butting up to the sea, crowned by temperate mountains. It is possible to be swimming on the beach one minute and hiking through oaks and pines, almost the next. Gabriel's selected home, for the express reason of growing out the diversity of the world in a single garden. A hike in the hills, seeing cacti growing amongst live oaks, aloes amongst pines and palm trees everywhere, makes me think that he chose a good spot.
photos-baja hikes
Almost all of the farms where I was in Baja, grow for Del Cabo, the American exporter/importer of organic tomatoes, basil and dried mangoes. While the global economic structure, that necessitates an export economy, and leaves the primary producers of even organic goods, drinking "Nescafe" and canned milk, leaves much to be desired, at least they're keeping the biosphere organic. On arrival to the mainland by ferry, it's vast coastal plains, and lack of hippie entrepreneurs from the north, are a sharp reminder of the long arms and sticky tentacles of the trans-national "life sciences" corporations of the world. "Alimentos, Salud, Esperanza." In English, the Monsanto slogan turns my stomach. "Food, Health, Hope." The candy coating is sickly sweet. To see it in Spanish, this romance language so new to my tongue, sours my mouth.
photo-the bad guys
Sunday, 2/9/03:
In Mazatlan, our second day on the mainland. The coast is beautiful. Starting to see a lot of coconuts and other more distinctly tropical stuff.
The guys at the bus station told us how to catch the "tren de carga," so in the late, afternoon we headed for the train yard. We heard that the train left at 10:30, and we got there in plenty of time, before sunset. Most of the passerbys were able to tell us something about the schedule and were only half-incredulous that we wanted to know. What a difference from the States, where hoboing is such a secretive activity, shrouded in the mystique of legend and danger, and the potential of landing you in jail. Here it is more of a legitimate form of transportation. Even the security guards, let us know that the train had been delayed until 1:00 am, and insist that we wait in the light where they can see that we're safe.
The whole experience was indicative of the openness and freedom that mark the difference with the U.S. Here I really feel that, if I'm comfortable doing what I'm doing, and it's not hurting anyone, than no one is going to stop me. No citations for trespassing, only occasional precautions and advice.
Monday, 2/10/03:
Finally after ten hours, we're on the train. Escorted to a gondola car, the walls, at a meter and a half, allow lots of fresh air and scenery. Sunrise. The security director comes over and gives us a half-jokingly hard time about, whether of not we have all kinds of "droogas." He goes on and on about how we're going to be beaten, stabbed, robbed and thrown from the train, how we're going to die from exposure. All kinds of really morbid stuff, but he didn't stop us from being on the train, when it started moving at 7:00 am.
Finally, moving, what a rush. It's been years since I was on a train, held home by gardens and projects. As we pull out of the yard, a head pops up at either end of our car. We look at each other, think about all the horror stories, we've just heard, look at the heads, the heads look at each other, look at the next car, and disappear. Soon we look back and see about a dozen people, either already on, or climbing aboard.
Rolling out of Mazatlan, Pacific coastal plains. Passing through bananas, papayas, and mangoes, lots of mangoes. Our first stop in Rosario people start getting comfortable and moving around the train. Some traveling close to the whole length ,on top on it. One man, Mario, lingers in our car. Turns out he knows all of the plants and has worked in the fields of tomatoes and chiles, we're passing ,where people make 100 pesos a day, picking the fruit for export. A tour guide of sorts. He knows many of the people as well, and we get frequent waves. After a while every thing else thins out and its just mangoes, for hours. We pass a warehouse and Mario tells me that he used to work there, packing mangoes. I ask where they were going, his reply, true of so much biological bounty, "El otro lado," (the other side.)
Turn inland and rise into the mountains as the sun is going down. At the higher altitudes, the mangoes give way to pines and the other associates of a alpine forest. But it is soon too dark to effectively high-speed botanize.
photo-train
The mountains south of Mexico City was the next region that I spent a chunk of time in. Mixed deciduous/conifer woods. Lots of Agave species. Tilandsias hanging off the trees. Sub-humid temperate, would be the designation of this ecological region.
photo-mountains in morelos
Monday, 2/17/03:
Today I'm at a new farm project in the state of Morelos, started by a woman, whose been working with an organization called Espacio de Salud, for twelve years. They have been instrumental in the development of ecological, dry sanitation in Mexico. Turns out that she took her first permaculture course in 1988, with Ianto Evans, of Cob Cottage Company fame. Small world, or just small alternative movement? Exiting first year! A half finished straw bale classroom, hundreds of baby, multi-use trees in the ground. It would be fun to come back in five years and see how its grown.
photos-espacio de salud
On Saturday in Cuernavaca, we went to the Jardin Etnobotanico in the morning and a "marcha contra la guerra," in the afternoon. It was an international day of action against the pending war, with thousand of people participating around the world. "Paz, Paz, Paz, con Justicia y Dignidad!"
photos-marcha
I got the chance to stay about week, at community, called Huehuecoyotl, in the mountains, about an hour bus ride from Cuernavaca. It started as a International Rainbow Peace Caravan traveling throughout Latin America, that stopped, 20 years ago, outside the town of Tepoztlan, and never left. Beautiful place, a real eco-village. All the houses are built of beautiful natural materials. Traditional adobe, as well as an array of more modern ecological techniques, are on display. The whole place gravity fed from a 1,000,000 liter cistern that catches the rain right off the mountain, when it streams down, only two or three months a year. Wood fired shower and sauna, feel good on my travel-worn body. A real focal point of the Ecovillage Network of the Americas, who's newsletter can be read in Spanish, French, Portuguese and English. They are frequently hosting Bioregional Congresses, International Ecovillage conferences, and a variety of workshops. Lots of activity. An attribute of community life.
photos-community kitchen
Friday, 2/28/03:
Heading south from Oaxaca City, to the coast. Hitch-hiking.
Pickup stops. Perfecto! One of my favorite ways to travel, a close second to the freight train. We rode for a couple of hours and then the truck pulled over. Lasaro, the driver came back and told us that he was turning off to his house, but that if we wanted to stay with him and get a ride in the morning with his family who were going to be going another 4-5 hours toward Puerto Escondido. Unsure. Look around at the mountains, beautiful landscape, small, agricultural village. Look down at the field next to the road, corn and beans, inter cropped together, the ancient sisters, growing in symbiotic harmony. Okay, we'll stay.
Turns out, Lasaro, at 40, still lives in his boyhood home, with his mother and grandmother. They are the sweetest old ladies you could hope to meet. At the ages of 73, and 96, respectively, they were still running the farm Chickens under-foot every where, even inside the house. Goats, pigs, we helped with the evening feeding routine. Inspiring, to see these old, shriveled, brown women, growing all their own corn and beans. The last generation that holds a traditional relationship with the land. They fed us, well and gave us our own room..
photo-truck ride
Saturday, 3/8/03:
On the coast, in a small town called Mazunte. know for its sea turtle conservation efforts. Marcia, the traveling companion that I met on my way to Buena Fortuna, headed back north a few days ago. Good to have the company, and we had lots of fun together, but also enjoying being on my own again.
photo-mazunte
Met these Mexican hippie kids that had a wood fired oven on the next beach over. A long deserted stretch of sand and waves, called Mermajita, "Mermaid." They would spend all day baking different kinds of bread and cookies, and playing music. Sending huge baskets of still-hot goodies to sell to the, mostly European, tourists on the beach in Mazunte.
I spent a few days camped out with them and gave them a bunch of seeds for their garden. It feels good to be a vector.
photos-hornos, turtle
On my way to Chiapas. A land that for me is still cloaked in the, mystique of revolution. Its rich natural resources, leading many a profiteer astray of the indigenous people. "Paz con Justicia y Dignidad!" Peace, with justice and dignity, a simple, yet profoundly difficult request. It is this same biological richness and defensively feisty culture, that have drawn me so far from home.
The southernmost state of Mexico, Chiapas occupies more than 74,000 sq. km. along the "frontera" with Guatemala. It is home to almost a third of all the plants in Mexico, with over 8,000 species. It is thought that local endemism is quite high. Elevations vary, from sea level to 4,000 m. and the climate ranges from desert to rain forest. Annual precipitation varies, from less than 80 cm. in some places, to over 350 cm. in others. Of its 1,500,00, inhabitants, half are Mayan agriculturalists, living in dispersed villages and hamlets. A veritable treasure throve for ethnobotanists.
Monday, 3/17/03:
Descent to the jungle! Leaving Lago Tzizcao, right on the Guatemalan border. Camped "libre" beside the lake. Swam in the morning, cool, mountain water. It was super windy the whole time I was there and my map and Thermarest both ended up in the lake as well. Dried quick, thanks to the wind, but impossible to leave anything unanchored.
photo-lago tzizcao
Stashed my pack and headed up the hill to a "El Restuarante Adventurero," to find "agua" and a "bano."
The walk out back to the toilet, to my fascination, led me through a dense polyculture of coffee and bananas, all under the canopy of a few large trees with spreading crowns. Sure enough, I go back through the restaurante and see bags of "Cafe Organico" for sale. I had two cups with my breakfast, of bean/ goat cheese tacos, and bought half a kilo to export.
photo-banana-coffee polyculture
The past two days I've been leaving the Highlands of San Cristobal. Small corn patches on rocky hill sides, woolly pigs, houses of raw wood and/or adobe , pines and brightly colored indigenous costumes characterize "el campo." At 2100 m., this is a diverse temperate forest.
Saturday to "Las Cascades el Chiflon," outside of Comitan. Descend 800m. into warmer deciduous forest. The river is beautiful, cold and clear. Its deep pools between drops and the bright turquoise color make me wonder about the substrate. Limestone? "Las cascades" are magnificent, dropping some 100 meters, and sending a rain of mist and rainbows down the valley. The influence on the micro climate is dramatic. The rocks around the falls themselves, a lush carpet of bryophytes, ferns and flowering plants.
Here too, a much higher population of epiphytes. Tilandsia spp., orchids, a Prickly Pear, growing 5m. up on a Cypress, various succulents, that make me think Aloeaceae, or Agavaceae, but they could be more Bromialaceae members as well. I feel pretty comfortable with some of the families, but so much is new, and all of my attempts to find some kind of field guide have been unsuccessful. I mean there's more than a handful of families that are endemic to Mexico.
photos-cascades chiflon
Tuesday, 3/18/03. 7:30 am:
Now I'm in the lowlands, the closest town that I have an elevation for, is about an hour from here by dirt road, at only 200 m.
Last night my "combi" (VW van used for local and inter-city travel) didn't get to Chajul until sunset. I met a couple of older senoras waiting for the next combi, who talked the driver into going farther than he was going to. A little farther down the road, but still not my hoped for destination of Las Guacamayas, a forest reserve on the other side of the Rio Lacontan from the Reserva Biosfera Montes Azules, 300,000 hectares of protected Selva Lacandona.
But what luck! As I was walking down the road with these, women, a young guy came up, and when he heard of my plight, ran off to stop a truck he knew of, that was just leaving in my direction. I shuffled after him, in a half-run, under my pack, and there I was, the last 20 kilometros , speeding down the dirt highway. Standing in the back of the truck, wind in the face, under the full moon. This is the way to travel!
Followed my moon shadow, walking the last kilometro to Reforma Agraria, the small village that is the home of the forest reserve.
What strange sounds in the night!?!? Howling, barking, roaring, screaming. A local boy told me: "Monos." He also told me where to sleep.
Woke up this morning at 6:00 am, in the village square. Sun, not quite up, but light. That sound again, a cross between, baying dogs, roaring lions and screaming women. I stuff my sleeping bag and head for the Reserva Forestal.
What fun to see a new place in the light. I am really in the tropics now! The vegetation, super dense, climbers, epiphytes, shrubs, trees, a robust herb layer. A vibrant model for our layered permaculture designs. Life, maximizing space.
It's not just the flora that is so abundant and diverse. That sound again, and others. In the light of morning, I see that "los monos", of the night before are big, black Howler monkeys (Alloutta pigra.), swinging from the tree tops. A flock of beautiful, large, white birds, in the slough, las guacamayas-red macaws ( Ara macao) overhead, some other kind of green parrot-type birds. As I sit and write this, I can look out, across the river at the eastern edge of the Reserve Biosphera Montes Azules. Representing some of the most extensive and best preserved tropical rain forest in Mexico and Central America, described to me as ,"Pura selva." All I can see is the densely lush river bank, accented by a few, boldly colored, bare tree trunks. But I can hear the selva. A constant orchestra of sound. Birds, primates, felines, insects, I can only imagine.
3:15:
Hot! Spent the mid-day traveling by combi, through a lot of cleared land. There was a lot of burning going on, more clearing, and between the hot wind in the combi and the thick smell of smoke, I had a very real sensation of being in a fire.
Sitting on the road to Lacanja Chansayab, watching the occasional person, in the long white costume of the Lacandones, cross the road from various trails, leading into the jungle, and disappear again on the other side. I've been here half an hour so far, only one truck. It didn't pick me up.
4:30:
Had to cut off because I got a ride. Another truck, a family headed for the river. Exactly where I want to go, in the sticky heat of the afternoon.
Got in a swim. My note book took a swim as well, reminding me why it was a "Rite-in-the-Rain."
Still in awe at the life teeming around me. plants growing on everything. Going to camp at a place where the people speak to each other in a language that I don't understand and it isn't Spanish. To communicate we all need to use a second language.
After further exploring the village I discovered that everyone speaks the language of the Lacandones, because that's what they are. There are only about 800 Lacandones alive today, and most of them, 500, live here in Lacanja. The town was founded in 1979, when the Lacandones were relocated out their homeland, the Selva Lacandon, with the creation of the Biosphere Reserve.
photos-jungle swim spot
Wednesday, 3/19/03:
Cooled off with a swim, and now am enjoying the breeze coming off of "Las Cascades Welib-ja." Heading to Palenque.
photo-cascades welib-ja
I fell asleep, out on the grass ,watching the moon rise, last night and awoke around 3:00 am, soaked in heavy dew. Apparently one of the reasons that it is so green here.
On the road, walking, by 8:00 am. It was a good thing that I was walking too, because by the time that I got to the "crucero," 5 kilometros and an hour and a half later, I still hadn't seen a single vehicle going my way.
I did meet a couple of little boys on the way. Children of the jungle. They gave me half of an Annona, which was a delight to try. Under the dull brown exterior, its soft, bright pink flesh was pudding-like. I chatted with them while I ate. At their request, I took their photo, before heading on my way.
photos-wild boys, ruined cities
Friday, 3/21/03:
First day of spring! Rode "camionetas " (pickup trucks) all the way from Palenque back to San Cristobal. A return to the highlands.
The mid-day mountain air felt welcomingly fresh after the steamy jungle of Palenque,, streaming against my face, in the back of the truck. The pines again. Still bananas and coffee and all the diversity of the tropical highlands, but markedly different than the selva.
Hitch-hiking in Ocosingo around noon, a truck, slowed down. I thought, "A ride," but the driver yelled "Vamos a Irak!" and drove off. Ouch. Just yesterday, the second day of bombing, I encountered the news while checking my e-mail. A slideshow of anti-war protests from around the world, brought a tear to my eye. This was really the first time, my whole trip that I got heckled for being perceived as a "gringo." Ocosingo was the site of the bloodiest fighting during the Zapatista uprising in '94. Over 50 revolucionarios were killed here. The cynicism and bitterness is understandable.
A real mix of feelings passing into the highlands. The obvious, dramatic shift in vegetation. The air crisper, images appear sharper. The brightly colored people, washing brightly colored clothes in the streams, stand out against the landscape. As in the selva, lots of cleared land. The struggle here, the condition of the campesinos, the over-exploitation of resources by outsiders, the signs for transgenic seed and RIVAL, a Monsanto produced herbicide, and the war, all weigh on my mind and soul. My last couple of days in Mexico, then back to "los Estados Disunidos," as I've heard it called. Hope and nostalgia, constant companions, while traveling alone. The hope now diminished by the destination. The belly of the beast of global terror.
I keep reminding myself of the good things that I an returning to, which are many.
As the selva is cut and burned, indigenous languages and life styles die by exposure, and "bombas" fall on Iraq, I ready myself to board an air plane to Tijuana, and wallow in the irony.
photos-graffiti
Incredible to be in the "campo" here. The people practice "permaculture," not out of the idealism, that drives so many eco-warriors in "el Norte," but out of necessity and tradition. Perennial food crops, stacking functions, inter cropping, companion plants. It all makes economic sense in a place where even the policemen only get paid the equivalent of $20 "dolares" a week.
The allure of genetic engineering holds false hope for many. A few retain the ecological knowledge, passed down through literally, centuries, but their numbers diminish every day, and with every Coca-Cola consumed. With every bottle of RIVAL purchased and used, we come closer to losing a global heritage of diversity and indigenous wisdom. Despite all this I still get the feeling that I am in a land where Tierra y Libertad have a chance.
photos-huitepec, wood hauler
Monday, 3/24/03:
Coming home, my pack weighs 40 kilos. Three machetes, a corn grinder, three hoe heads, two kilos of organic coffee, seed collection, plant collection and more. So many great hand tools here. Stuff you can't find in the States, where subsistence, family-scale agriculture has gone more or less extinct.
On the bus since Tijuana, just left Sacramento at 7:00 am. Riding through the central valley, Americas last "bread basket." What a difference from the family-scale plots eked out of the rocky hillsides in the mountains of Chiapas.
photo-mayan mural
CONCLUSION
"We can't just put all biodiversity in a museum and expect it to survive. Biological diversity depends on human diversity."-Bob Bye, Latin American ethnobiologist.
Mexico, land of promise and paradox. Where original languages still dominate in many regions, yet you can buy Marlboros and Coca-Cola in the most remote village store. A land very much feeling the strain of retaining its original wealth and beauty, in the face of posturing and legislating by its neighbor to the North, to open these riches to the profit motive of the global economy. While I was amazed by so much that I saw, I can only fantasize about what these landscapes might have been like, just 25-50 years ago, and worry about all that may not be left in another 10-25. Grateful for the chance I had to be down there this winter.
Such a full couple of months. The plants, places, people, the language, all so new and exciting. Being back at home, catching the last rain and hail of winter, it seems a fantastic dream. Readying to put up my new greenhouse, I can't wait to try growing out the seeds I brought home. In this summers garden will grow some new things, hopefully not too far outside of their range. Increasing the diversity, and bringing generations of stories, and campesino wisdom in each seed. I wonder about the new life, that the seeds I took, from my garden, will have in there new places. Hualing these little treasures, literally thousands of kilometros, and sharing them as I go, feels right. It puts me that much closer to fulfilling the ecological role of vector, that humans have adapted to be so proficient at. The natural wealth of our world is a collective heritage that we need to steward and share, if we are to continue to appreciate it.
Riding the rails: Mazatlan to Guadalajara
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