Study Abroad: Luke Gran in Mexico

January 27, 2007

There I was in the early morning hour with the sun blinding me, as it does daily in this beautiful state of Oaxaca . I had one leg in my Wranglers® and was about to put the other one in when I started to feel that I had dozens of shards of glass in my jeans. Then I saw infinitesimally small 6-legged creatures scattering on the floor coming from my empty pant leg. I started hopping around like mad hitting my panted leg with my hands. For the first time this wasn't just a clever phrase, it was fact: I had ants in my pants.

This story is just one example of the different things I must adjust to deal with in this new locale. For me, ants are outside varmints, beneath the soils of the tall-grass prairies of my native Iowa . They have a very special role of moving organic matter throughout the soil horizons as well as making many intricate tunnels for air movement to the benefit of living things with roots. Back home in January they are well below the soil surface where they enjoy the warmth at depth. In southern Mexico however, it is 80-90 degrees Fahrenheit during the day and only brisk in the night. These ants fear not the weather and therefore have the prerogative to invade my cabaña searching for sweets (Why they went for my pants I have no idea - did I use honey instead of laundry soup?).

I am being taken care of by my hosts at the Instituto Tecnológico del Valle de Oaxaca (ITVO). I have been given a posh cabaña to live in with probably the most comfortable bed I have ever used (certainly the largest). I am located on the campus of a 1500 person upper education agricultural college. My housekeeper Esperanza brings me fruit occasionally and she even taught me how to wash my clothes by hand. Everyone is very helpful and kind to me. They show amazing patience as I stumble through the simplest of Spanish phrases. In return I teach English to whoever wishes to learn including a free weekly class to the children of the neighborhood (and a few of their parents). Imagine a Forester teaching English? What has this world come to? I can't wait to teach them about board feet and DBH.

It has been 20 days since I landed in Mexico City . In this time I have acquired provisions (like a swell wool poncho, chocolate, a wooden comb, cotton blankets, "tacos" - fútbol shoes) worked on my Spanish, and made some new friends. Classes were supposed to begin Jan 29...but I heard word last week that it is delayed a week. While my fellow Cyclones are studying this month I have been biking, playing soccer, learning to dance Salsa, cooking, and improving to speak/read Spanish. Oh, and I am off to the beach on Thursday. Looks like I may have to learn to surf here as well. All I can say is "Study Abroad is Awesome!"

February 11, 2007

During my time here in Mexico, I am working with the Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) of farmers "CEDICAM" on my honors project on reforestation quantifying infiltration, soil bulk density, and the social benefits in a 25-year chronosequence. I will use the NGO's wealth of reforested sites to sample from to try to answer questions they have about water.

Today I traveled to visit Aarón Santiago Diaz, at his modest ranch in the secluded mountainous highlands of the Mixteca Alta. Aarón is a "campesino" (peasant farmer) and is a member of the NGO "CEDICAM." He is very proud of his reforestations on his land. I bumped along a very typical unserviced country road in the back seat of a taxi and we curved up and up mountainous terrain with soils colored like cheap "Neapolitan" ice cream that has been in the freezer for too long - whites, yellows, reds, pinks, and a few black spots. There were shrubby trees called "Cucharones" that are good for letting your "mulos", "toros", and "burros" (mules, bulls, and donkeys) lie under during the day but not much else. At times I would see one or two pines hidden amongst the shrubbery but more commonly, I would spot "chivos" (goats) herded by an old man in a white cowboy hat.

A local told me that years ago there were many more families with small plots of land living here and this pressure led to rapid deforestation. In recent years, there has been a greater size of landholdings which has prompted many to consider reforestation as a means to contain their land, beautify the landscape, procure firewood for cooking, and hopefully restore consistent soil moisture throughout the year.

During the drive, suddenly the shrubs disappeared and felt like I was staring at the surface of the moon. A denuded mountain is one of the most unappealing images of nature that one could imagine. Areas of high slope had running waterways that dug out erosion pits, because there is nothing to hold back the soil. These types of activities have contributed to the loss of 5 meters of topsoil since conquest, according to a recent article about "CEDICAM" and the Mixteca Alta.

"El rancho" is a 12-hectare land area with diverse sources of food. I walked around with two "hijos" (sons) of Señor Diaz who reforested much of his land with large slopes with native species of Pine. We joked and talked about the work "en el campo" with which they are "acostumbrado" (accustomed). Along with their father and neighbors, they produce maiz, oats, vegetables, honey, meats (goat, cow, turkey, and chicken) and other products all for self-consumption. They do not have money, but they have full stomachs. They have recently added a greenhouse built with innovative and affordable materials that keeps the freeze off the vegetables in the cool mountain air. I even tasted one of the radishes fresh from the earth. "No chemicals - too expensive and they are dangerous" says the farmer.

One of the special moments on the ranch was befriending one of the sons named Alfonzo, and sharing a good hearty "farmer" laugh at the misfortune of a goat who was poking around a bucket for food and got its head stuck by the handle. He tried every way to get free, but mostly just ran around and looked silly. No matter where you are on earth there is a universal language of on-the-farm humor that needs no translation.

One of the moments more disheartening was the answer to the question of off-farm employment - the older son said "No Hay" translation: there are none. The younger son has a part-time construction job in the city of Nochixtlan, and with that money has purchased a cell phone that I can now communicate with him. The cell phone has no service in the mountains, but the camera works. He took a picture of his father and I with it.

It is interesting that this land is what I consider one of the most sustainable places on earth. A self-consumption, no petrochemicals, high manual labor operation secluded with limited energy intensive machines like washers, dryers, and personal automobiles. I envy these people much for the beautiful mountainous surroundings in which they live, the community they have, and the sharing they do to depend on each other. I envy the fresh, nutritious food they eat and am humbled by the hard work and honest labor they perform.

This honest labor is time intensive too. With the simple plow, a 10-foot pole log and a tiny strip of metal, and with the help of two strong "toros" it is easy to drive and to plow a field (says the son of the farmer). It takes 1 day to plow 1/2 a hectare: 1.5 acres. But hey, no work on Sundays - same as many of the Iowa farmers I know.

Thirty percent of the people from this region have left. Eighty-five percent of these migrants have gone to work in the U.S. I definitely understand why many have left. When your land is washing away in the rainy season and shriveling up in the dry season, why not move to the States and make some coins. There are jobs here in Oaxaca , but the same low-skill jobs that are in Iowa , who wouldn't want to make orders of magnitude more for the same work? Having said that, CEDICAM and the people who reforest (200,000 trees per year) with them have discovered a way to restore pride in their land, their livelihoods, and respect in themselves. It is my hope that I can help to increase this pride and to use my Natural Resource Ecology and Management education to understand local hydrology benefits and continue to make reforestation a successful endeavor for the Mixteca.

Source : http://americas.irc-online.org/am/3593

April 29, 2007

Two of the reasons I miss the Iowa landscape are the plenitude of rivers and clean air. Former governor Tom Vilsack has said that Iowa has "the cleanest air in the nation."[ source ] I generally believe that too, judging on personal experience with the countryside on my bike - though I steer clear of those Iowa counties that seem to have more CAFO's than people.

Here in the low areas of the valley of Oaxaca, there are some days I wonder if it is safe to breathe at all between the inversions which trap the pollution and the river of human sewage just south of town. This river, I am told, has several new housing developments pumping human waste directly into it without treatment. Allegedly due to corruption of government officials and shady deals with the developers. The result is literally a black ooze of a river that one can smell well before one can see.

I don't forget the other non-point source agricultural pollutants that are choking aquatic life in every conventional high production "King Corn and Queen Bean" agricultural watershed back home. We have to thank the political decision makers in D.C. and their campaign financiers that for decades have told us that "we feed the world" with this Iowa Monarchy (now they tell us we use the same corn to feed our cars). For more on Farm Bill to Food Bill a level-headed move is outlined here.

Nor do I forget for one minute about the water my eldest brother is drinking everyday in the Iowa capitol. The water that is delivered for consumption after the worlds largest Nitrogen Filtration System makes a sweep at $3,000 a day (Construction cost $3,661,000). I brought this up in my watershed management class and all the Mexican students were shocked to learn where the nitrogen goes after the Des Moines Water Works removes it - back into the river, downstream of course.

Yet, for over two months I was adamant that Iowa's ethic of the treatment of human waste was one reason why living in Iowa is superior. A reason that they call the US of A "Developed" and many other nations "Developing." My fellow Iowans have it right. We have the technology, the tax base, and the political will and everyday honesty to decide it ain't right to have the toilet drain into the water cooler. Or so I thought. In April 2007, as a result of heavy (but not out of the ordinary) rains, over 5 million gallons of untreated human sewage were discharged into Iowa waterways. http://www.iowadnr.com/news/07apr/rains.html http://www.iowadnr.com/news/07apr/wastewater.html

Here in Mexico I have learned about different methods for preventing rivers to run with human waste - primarily and least expensive is the eco-toilet a.k.a. composting toilet. Without water, or smell either, the soil and liquid waste is separated and a flush of wood chips (heck maybe cedar chips would even get the potpourri crowd excited). After a year of normal use there remains organic matter, ready for composting, then integration into the fields of a local food system and de pronto a previously open nutrient cycle is closed.

NREM's Agroecology Team is leading the world to mitigate agricultural pollutants with perennial buffers; ISU's Dining Service is even beginning to source more "Certified Organic" local foods produced without pesticides or chemical herbicides. But what are we to do about the aguas negras flushed into Iowa waterways from Bear Creek to the Mississippi? What is the next step for better management of our natural resources? Who knows, maybe we will be sitting on eco-toilets in the new Science II.

May 5, 2007

A past professor of mine, came to visit for a week to get to know Oaxaca . Its great to introduce friends to a new place; to take them around to meet the best people and places from comedores , to ecoturismo spots. For me its a treat to speak English to a native speaker and to unload some ideas about my experience in a two-way interactive medium (sorry miBlog®, its not you, its me). I even got to take my prof to one of my field sites for my reforestation research - a picturesque little pueblo about 2 hours from Oaxaca City . The following is an account of this 2-day outing.

Maybe we should have listened to that minor explosion, or the burst of smoke from the truck when we were just 10 minutes outside of Cuidad Juarez de Oaxaca . Or maybe we would have done well to consider the infrequent but total power losses that would make us scratch our heads and look at each other with "hum..." faces. Nevertheless, we bumped along at an relaxed clip and were about 20 minutes from our destination as the sun was threatening to fall beneath the mountainous horizon. We jackhammered the truck down a gradual slope towards the parched riverbed when gradually, the truck drifted to a stop despite my attempts at forward motion. We mustered another "hum..." face as I attempted to start the truck. No dice. I raised the hood, even though I have no clue what to look for, maybe expecting to see a cartoon axe in the motor with sweat beads and oil spurting from the wound. Failing to see this, we analyzed the situation:

1. Are we out of gas? - No - filled it with 450 pesos, more than we need for the round trip.
2. Did the bumpy ride dislodge something? - Maybe but unlikely.
3. The Sun God? - maybe - I have been badmouthing it recently and this may be payback.

Our analysis was interrupted by a red truck filled with a friendly local family passing us with curious looks. I waved them down and proceeded to chat with them.

Note: My Español has vastly improved over the past four months, but rarely am I under pressure such as this. A lonely road, with a broken truck. What to do? Where to go? Big questions that are as crucial to ask, as the responses are to understand. Definitely didn't have a "If you are driving in Mexico and your Car Breaks Down" chapter the Spanish Class textbook.

I gathered that they deciphered my words (and hand motions) and consequently our situation as they flagged down an oncoming white truck (what timing and luck!). They arranged to take us to el mecanico in the next pueblo over - Yodocóno . My professor and I piled in the back and got cozy for a ride that we had no idea how long it would be or if our truck would ever move again. We bumped along, staring at the dim reflection of ourselves in a wide but shallow metal bucket with a 14-inch knife sploshing in a shallow pool of blood. This family clearly spent Friday selling meat in Nochixtlán - probably borego (goat). How thankful we were to be sharing a ride with the messy remains of our small-hoofed open-grazed on communal land friend.

Arriving at our destination, the mechanics house in a neighborhood on the outskirts of the little village, we offered to pay for the ride but we were turned down. We stepped away saying ¡Muchas Gracias! and introduced ourselves to the man set to have our truck's life in his hands. Andrés , " El Salvador " (The Savior) as we came to refer to him, not only rescued our truck from the dusty river-bottom road, but drove us the rest of the way to Tidaá that night until he could take a look at the truck in the light of day.

We took everything we thought we might need from Oaxaca , and even a few extras because we told ourselves, rather ominously, "Why not, we have the truck, right?" This decision turned out to be a costly one as we ended up hauling, loading, and unloading it all countless times. It felt like my two years of Move-in/Move-out days at Friley Hall rolled into two days.

Even with all this gear, after loading it yet again the next day, I found myself lacking key herramientras - tools for sampling infiltration. I needed a sledge to pound in the big metal rings - I was using a slide hammer. I needed a 350L tank for water - I was using a 100L garbage can. I needed a 2-liter graduated cylinder to be able to measure the infiltration rate - I was using a miniscule 250 mL.

What a welcome to research projects in el Campo . Its hot and dry, roads are bumpy, borrowed trucks break down, tools occasionally are unavailable or insufficient, you are tired because mosquitos ( Dengue -free you hope) buzzed in your ears all-night. Standing in the back of the pick-up while riding to the site your back is slammed into a metal bar while trying to keep the water from spilling, you are explaining what we are sampling and why in English and Spanish. The prepared sampling sheets you printed are left behind in the broken down truck - you have the documents in a flash drive and there is a printer but there is no computer in the village. You realize that for the first time, YOU are the authority for the scientific sampling and you question your methods, worry about bias, worry about the conditions, maintaining the treatments. Needless to say, flexibility and creativity are things you take with you everyday - thankfully they aren't heavy or hard to carry.

Dejected, unable to complete the full sampling, we did everything we could with what tools we had and returned to the village center to await news from el mecanico . Hours after the pre-agreed meeting time, (likely the time was "lost in translation" or promptness has a very different meaning in the pueblo ) Andrés arrived and reported that he had repaired the truck. On the ride back to Yodocóno we got to know him better. When he was younger, he worked in Districto Federal ( México City ) and played the drums in " una banda Tropicál " and even toured in the U.S. He played " en California , Denver , Florida , en todas partes. " Now he lives in a a small village in rural Oaxaca and has a small Mr. Fix-it business specializing in glass & metalworks, and automotive repair.

It's great to have the opportunity to do research in another country, especially a country like Mexico . It has been said by many that Mexico and the U.S.A. are "Distant Neighbors." Mexico shares 1000's of kilometers of border, millions of migrant and not-so-migrant workers, and history, yet the U.S.A. knows so little about México outside the fabricated tourist city of Cancún. I feel that this research is connecting me with el campesino , la naturaleza , and la política - the peasant farmer, the nature, and the politics. It is a privilege to be here and I am very grateful for the opportunity, broken-down trucks and all.