Stories are the bloodveins of culture.
We tell them, we hear them, we share them, we make them everyday in our
cultures. No culture can be defined by
one story - a culture is rather a
culmination of thousands of beautiful threads of stories that are sewed into a
people’s existence. In efforts to help
our supporters understand the context of our work better, we want to share a
story that is one of the brightest, longest and strongest threads in the
culture of Guatemala. This blog is the
first of a three part series that will unfold the tale of the country’s most
lucrative crop, its most abundant foodstuff, its sacred vestige: Corn. Its that
time of the year, so we found it most appropriate to begin with the Harvest.
Turning
Driving
through the bumpy roads of coastal Guatemala in August you can experience a
fascinating sight not akin to many places in the world: rows upon rows of corn turned
over, fields of corn stalks bowing in reverence to man, the ultimate steward.
Treating
the corn in this fashion essentially stops the growth of the stalk and
commences the drying of the grain. As the husks remain hanging on the stalks,
they provide an eco-friendly home for all the kernels to dry above ground,
making them less susceptible to rot and pest damage. Furthermore, turning the
corn over allows more light into the soil in addition to creating windbreaks,
promoting the growth of fragile sesame seedlings that are traditionally planted
in between corn stalks around the same time.
Harvesting
September 15th is usually the date used to commence the harvest season, although the process can last well into December. Farmers, their families and hired hands line up along seemingly endless rows of
corn, machetes strapped to their sides and grain sacks tied to their waist. These crews of campesinos walk the
length of each row, harvest and de-husk every piece of corn by hand and toss it into their bags. When the grain bag becomes unbearable to pull along (they can get up to 100
pounds), it is dragged to the street and the process begins anew. In the heat of the tropical lowlands,
hundreds of hands spend endless hours reaping thousands of seeds sown,
unwrapping the husks of their future.
Degraining
At the
side the road hundreds of bags wait to be degrained. Most families degrain at least some of the
corn (most likely the corn that will be consumed in the household) by
hand. A survival skill for these
families, but a theatrical work of art for a gringa, fingers work ferociously pushing individual kernels off in
record timing. As with all modern
agriculture, this tedious, timely process has been transformed into a mere few
minutes of mechanization – that is, if you are lucky enough to have access to
the machine. Most farmers subcontract the degraining to a neighbor with access to a degrainer. Thousands of corn cobs are tossed in the machine and millions of kernels are tossed out straight into sacks within minutes.
Selling
Shoulder
to shoulder thousands of farmers stand in the symbolic waiting room of the
corn harvest, eagerly awaiting a rusty old truck to come tumbling down the dirt road toting the coyote (middleman) who will offer a price - a
generally non-negotiable price. The only negotiation space for these rural farmers is in their choice of when to harvest. The
great thing about corn is that its a grain which Mother Nature has done an
exceptional job of protecting with the evolution of the husk. Farmers can leave their precious commodity
hanging in those protective barriers for weeks, keeping a watchful eye on the
price and an entrepreneur’s ear on the market supply. The final sale can occur anywhere between September 15th through
December, depending on how much the farmer can afford to wait. Unfortunately, the majority of corn farmers
have invested their meager savings in that harvest and when September 15th
rolls around there is no option but to sell and sell quickly – daughters need
their tuition, wives need their medicine, farmers need their food.
What does this mean for the farmer?
We have this picture engrained in our imaginations - our Guatemalan sister dressed in her brightly embroidered dress with bountiful produce overflowing her wicker basket. What that image lacks is the desperation of our Central American sister, her complete dependency on corn, on chemicals, and on the capricious generosity of a globalized world.
A story for the
future…
Yields are low and harvests are risky, but farmers depend on them and are generally unwilling to risk losing that meager harvest by trying a different technique than what they already know. Semilla Nueva is helping campesinos imagine a different future for themselves and for their land so that this cultural story can become one of empowerment, opportunity, and growth. We encourage experimentation, helping farmers try out new growing techniques on small parcels of their land and compare the results on yields. We also make economic
analysis a priority, helping farmers keep track of their investments in labor, inputs, and seeds to better understand where they have the space to make changes within this limited context.
Corn is a central thread of the story of Guatemala, a powerful symbol of livelihood, culture and community, yet also one of grave poverty and desperation. Semilla Nueva is working with farmers to grow a new story, a different story. This story is rooting itself and taking hold, one farmer, one sustainable technology, and one corn harvest at a time.
Corn is a central thread of the story of Guatemala, a powerful symbol of livelihood, culture and community, yet also one of grave poverty and desperation. Semilla Nueva is working with farmers to grow a new story, a different story. This story is rooting itself and taking hold, one farmer, one sustainable technology, and one corn harvest at a time.
Hi there! Do you regularly use online social websites?
ReplyDeleteThat's written very well, it's the same here in Honduras
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