Bolivia Archive

By Anne Banas
Esperanza Project guest writer

Born in Cochabamba, Bolivia, and of Quechua descent, agronomist Emigdio Ballon has built an impressive resume when it comes to helping communities throughout the world restore their connection to traditional yet sustainable farming practices.

He is Director of Agriculture at Tesuque Pueblo near Santa Fe, co-founder of Seeds of Change, and Executive Director of Four Bridges Traveling Permaculture Institute. As a plant geneticist, he has done extensive research on quinoa and amaranth grains, and has studied biodynamic farming, which involves a unified and self-sustaining approach to agriculture that follows natural earth cycles and cosmic rhythms, particularly lunar cycles. As if that wasn’t enough, he also practices ancient planting rituals, which he learned from his shaman grandfather in Bolivia.

This past winter, I attended the first ever Edible Institute in Santa Fe, New Mexico, a meeting of influential writers and advocates dedicated to promoting integrity and security in our food supply. While a thick blanket of snow coated the city, notable voices such as Grist food editor Tom Philpott and localvore cookbook author Deborah Madison (a localvore, in case you hadn’t heard, is a person who tries to consume only locally produced food, to the greatest extent possible) gathered inside the warmth of Bishop’s Lodge Ranch to discuss our foodshed—defined as the flow of our food in a given area, from farm to table, and any aspect in between—and how we as local food enthusiasts can contribute to its betterment.

For many of us, it was a time to bond with like-minded thinkers and garner story ideas. But it took the quiet fire of Emigdio to invite spirit into the conference room and inspire us beyond words.

His panel, “The Southwest Foodshed: Sustaining the Culinary Heritage of Arizona, New Mexico, Texas and Oklahoma,”—shared by Deborah Madison, as well as food and farming advocates Miguel Estaban and Gary Paul Nabha—focused on his work in New Mexico, particularly at the Tesuque Pueblo. His words, however, resonated at a global level and beyond.

Miguel Esteban, Emigdio Ballon, Deborah Madison and Gary Paul Nabha

Before he began his talk, this otherwise reserved and quiet man stood up and asked the spirit world, in his native Quechua, for guidance on what to say to all of us. After kissing the earth, as part of his ceremony, he reached down and picked up a produce box filled with natural products—an ear of “Mother Corn,” a jar of local honey, a bottled herbal remedy. He spoke emphatically as he held up one item after another, each a symbol of both abundance and loss. His accent was strong, but his message was clear. All of us have become separate from the land, but “we have to be in connection with the spirits because Mother Earth has given us everything,” he said.

Like perhaps many others in the room—mostly farmers, activists, food writers, and publishers ofEdible Communities magazines who are well versed in the subject at hand—I was mesmerized as much as I was moved.

His concern for indigenous people was far from sentimental and came with a signal of warning. He explained how even native cultures are caught by the “great dependency for this humanity,” where laws and mechanization fostered by society and corporations have caused them to “forget what their ancestors taught” with regard to growing food. He explained how his people successfully grew quinoa for over 1,000 years on dry land. “It worked because they knew how,” he said. “Indian people already have knowledge of ‘new’ techniques like biodynamics, [but] we forgot them because society demanded profit.”

“For what?” he asks. “For killing people.”

Once he finished, he sat down just as quietly as he stood up. There was a silent pause in the room, and then everyone in the audience burst out with a heartfelt ovation.

The danger he refers to is the use of genetic engineering, which not only keeps farmers dependent on big corporations for seed stock but also results in sub-par food quality that doesn’t provide much nutrition and is potentially poisonous to our health. Also, he said, many farmers have been more or less tricked into buying “terminator seeds” (seeds that can’t be replanted after being harvested) which they can’t afford to re-purchase year after year. Faced with financial ruin, some have even resorted to suicide.

But there’s hope. Much of Emigdio’s work specifically focuses on helping native communities to become self-sufficient by teaching them the importance of saving seeds that are “descendants from Mother Corn” rather than continuing to farm with genetically modified seeds. After the panel, I sat down with him for a few minutes to talk about how he employs this philosophy at Four Bridges Traveling Permaculture Institute (permaculture, a concept that began as permanent + agriculture, has evolved into a design system that promotes a “permanent culture” in every aspect, striving for communities in harmony with nature).

He told me that his main goal for the organization is to “bring together a community of people of Hispaniola to help them become independent in the way they produce food.” The keyword in the name of the organization is “travelling,” which indicates how he spends much of his time helping poor farmers and communities in other countries as well as in New Mexico.

Similar to the theme of his talk, he told me how each culture has a traditional way to practice farming but has become very separated from it, where their ancestors have “lived 1,000 years one way but now use fertilizer and pesticides.” When I asked how he thinks the revival of agricultural traditions can contribute to a more sustainable future globally, he explained how everyone needs to understand the quality and benefit of “clean food,” and that “overall, these efforts will help humanity, not just indigenous people.”

To see his work up close, he invited me to visit Four Bridges’ home base, Sken:nen Ken’hak (Peace Forever) Educational Farm, which he started with Lorraine Kahneratokwas Gray, a member if the Mohawk Nation from upstate New York. In less than a year, the couple has built a solid foundation for an educational center for children and anyone else interested in seeing how a closed-system farm works. While still in its early stages, the farm will soon serve as a working model for what Emigdio and Lorraine teach around the world, particularly in Latin America.

While I missed Emigdio, who was off fetching a new hutch for their eight recently donated rabbits, Lorraine was excited to show me their new goats and take me around the three-acre property. With a four-month-old puppy tugging at my pant leg and Lorraine’s gaggle of curious children close behind, we walked past a row of fruit trees and into a cleared field primed to serve as a “three sisters” (corn, beans, and squash) garden. A good portion of the side yard is set up as a pen for goats, turkeys, chickens, and other farm animals, and future projects include an herb garden and a building to house workshops for making soaps and other products like the healing salve Lorraine gave me as a souvenir.

But it’s not just about farming and teaching. For them, it’s also about reconnecting to nature in the deepest sense. Behind the small house was a newly laid labyrinth, and soon, they hope to build a wooden fence to ensure privacy for moon and other spiritual ceremonies (Mohawk, Quechua, and others). “Not only can people see a more sustainable model for farming, but also share traditions. Anyone wanting to do something spiritual is welcome,” she said.

Even though I didn’t officially partake in a ceremony, I internalized quite a bit about how our survival might be dependent on reconnecting to the source in a multitude of ways. As I walked to my car with a hand in my pocket, lightly grazing the jar of healing salve with my fingers, I reflected on what Emigdio said at the panel about how “Mother Earth has given us everything.” I took one last look at the beginnings of the farm and was filled with a new sense of hope and motivation. I thought to myself, “Yes, if we just start somewhere, no matter how small, one by one, we can help restore this connection, heal the earth, and ultimately heal ourselves.”