Climate Change Archive

Social Forum shifts balance in Paraguay, Latin America

Social Forum shifts balance in Paraguay, Latin America

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ASUNCION, Paraguay – It was an historic moment for Latin America, and perhaps for the world: A former guerilla, a former priest and a former coca grower, now presidents of their respective countries, stood together and addressed the continent’s largest assembly of social organizations.

Paraguayan President Fernando Lugo, a former Catholic bishop whose election on April 20, 2008, signaled the end of a six-decade dictatorship, welcomed the Social Forum of the Americas to his country as a much-needed show of international support for his country’s fragile democracy. In addition to battling his own right-wing legislature, judiciary and mass media, the country’s first progressive president just last week began chemotherapy treatments for a newly diagnosed case of lymphoma. In perhaps the most emotional discourse of the entire forum, Lugo spoke from his heart.

“This privileged social forum is one of the lights we can raise like a torch to light the road to change in Latin America,” he said. “For the Paraguayan people, this is a sincere show of brotherhood …your presence is the force that will sustain us for the irreversible road to change in Paraguay.”

Bolivian President Evo Morales, risen from the ranks of indigenous organizers and coca growers, called the moment a sign of the times. “Never in the ’80s or the ’90s would you have seen a president at any of these events – and now we are here to receive your solutions, to convert them into programs and projects to liberate our people.”

The relationship between the forum and the progressive governments of the South has been a reciprocal one, with presidents from Venezuela’s Hugo Chavez to Brazil’s Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva have used it to burnish their images with social movements. The World Social Forum was launched in 2001 in the neighboring country of Brazil as a counterpoint to the annual World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, and as a meeting place and incubator for social movements across the globe under the theme, “Another World is Possible.”

Over the years the annual event has drawn upwards of 100,000 participants and has become so unwieldy that some have dismissed it as little more than a feel-good talk session or a left-wing carnival. But to many here, the social forum has become a force to be reckoned with, and indeed, a current that has nurtured and informed the continent’s leftward shift over the past decade.

“Critics have said all along that the forum is just a gabfest,” said Marc Becker, longtime forum observer and Latin American historian. “But there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s fundamentally shifted the discourse from neoliberalism and the Washington consensus to an environment that has permitted the rise of the leftist governments we have today.”

Since its inception, the WSF has spun off numerous regional and thematic versions. This week’s gathering, launched Aug. 11 and running through Sunday (Aug. 15), was the fourth hemispheric gathering, and it drew more than 10,000 from all over the Americas and beyond. Its slogan, “Nuestra America está en camino” (Our America is on its way), reflected the optimistic view that significant progress has been made toward achieving that other possible world.

This year’s themes were many and diverse, ranging from climate change and food sovereignty to the impacts of an increasingly industrialized agriculture and the growing number and strength of U.S. military bases throughout the continent.

Whether the forum will manage to shift the debate at the global level remains to be seen, but there’s little doubt that it has had significant impact at the regional and certainly at the local level, and within the movements themselves.

Peruvian anti-mining activist Lourdes Huanca actually credits the connections she made at the forum with saving her life and that of other activists during a violent confrontation with the Peruvian government.

“We sent out an e-mail to the contacts we had made saying, ‘Help, they are killing us!’” she said. Via Campesina, a global peasant organization, sent a representative and others responded by putting pressure on the government, and the situation was resolved, she said.

Groups as diverse as the Via Campesina and the Latin American Network of Women Transforming the Economy (REMTE, by its Spanish acronym), some of whose feminist leaders hold multiple academic degrees, come together across borders to strategize on their own issues, and reach out to learn about the struggles of other groups, as well.

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Sonia Alvarez of the University of Massachusetts attributes the forum with giving women a much more prominent voice within social movements in the South; Gina Vargas, a fellow member of the Network, agreed.

“When Via Campesina first began having a presence here, the men would say, ‘Here we’ll have our meetings, and there the women will do their cooking,’” said Vargas. “We said, ‘Wait a minute!’”

As the Via Campesina women began to interact with strong women leaders, the power balance began to shift. This year, one of the most dynamic speakers from the central stage was Magui Balbuena, a campesina leader from Paraguay.

Nobel Peace Laureate Rigoberta Menchu, who was received with perhaps even more excitement than any of the presidents, joined a panel defining the concept of “buen vivir,” or living well – a counterpoint promoted by the new Latin American left as a counterpoint to the individualist striving for the better life promoted by industrialist societies, a striving that speakers said impoverishes the planet through mindless consumerism.

‎”Our elders taught us that what we can take with our hands is ours; what doesn’t fit is for someone else. It’s selfishness that caused us to take the rest and put it in a bag for ourselves – and that selfishness is destroying the world,” she said.

One area in which the forum has the potential for a greater global impact is in the area of climate change. Groups preparing for the upcoming climate talks in Cancun, a follow-up to Copenhagen, have been working behind the scenes since April’s WSF-styled People’s Climate Summit in Cochabamba to further the development of an International Court for Climate Justice. Their sessions laid the groundwork for a multifaceted approach in Cancun.

Back in Paraguay, it’s hard to measure the impact on local social movements, but farmer Braulio Anibal Avalos provided a little insight when he stopped me on the stairs after a workshop to tell me how excited he was.
“This forum has completely changed my way of looking at the world,” said Avalos, whose family has been involved since before his birth in a fight to reclaim their cooperative’s land after it was seized by the Paraguayan government for supposed subversive activity.
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Paraguay’s difficult past – first, a war with neighboring countries in which it lost more than half its territory, followed by the dictatorship – has made Paraguayans insular and isolated, he said.

“I’ve always been extremely nationalist because of our history,” he said. “But today, as I look around and discover the thousands of people from other countries who are struggling for a better world, I realize the fight is not just ours. I realize we are not alone.”

Here are a few images from the Fourth Social Forum of the Americas:


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Eco-evangelical Mayans work for a greener village

Eco-evangelical Mayans work for a greener village

PAXTOCA, Totonicapán, Guatemala – Martin Pedro Toc Sic is an eco-entrepreneur on a mission. Standing amid the green, forested hills of his native village, this young Maya marketing major explained why he left a good-paying job in the city to try and make his mark in his hometown with projects designed to keep those hills green.

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“My father told me a long time ago, ‘Martin, God wants a vocation for you.’ And I always looked for it,” he said. “Then one day, God touched me with fear. I was listening to a radio program about the way the climate is changing and it scared me so bad I ran to my room and hid under the covers and trembled. But then I realized I had to do something about it. Instead of hiding in the house, frightened, it’s time to find solutions.”

Martin is a curious mixture of many things that on the surface don’t seem to blend. He’s a business-minded environmentalist and an evangelical Christian working to revive the Mayan cosmovision. He’s the founder of Projuve, short for Youth Program for Sustainable Development (Programa Juvenil para Desarrollo Sostenible), and his enthusiasm for his subject matter is contagious. A youth leader in his evangelical church, he’s managed to attract nine others to the cause, including Carmina, now his wife-to-be, and they’ve all put their work aside today to meet with me at their new Forestry Center, a small protected plot of tree seedlings they are nurturing for a reforestation project.

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The youths begin with a brief and very professional introduction, each telling me which of the Projuve departments they belong to: environment, programs, fundraising and business development. The young women are dressed in corte tipica, the traditional Quiché Mayan woven skirts and lacy blouses. The young men are all business casual.

“Here it’s normal for the young people to wear their hair long and their T-shirts loose, but we don’t want to do that,” Martin explained to me later. “We want to have the respect of the community, so that’s why we dress this way – formally. We are trying to earn their trust.”

In the year since their founding, they’ve garnered the support of a local cooperative, which has given them the land and supplies for their forestry center. They’ve held a Christian eco-concert, Una Sola Voz por el Planeta (One voice for the Planet) to raise money for their cause.

They’ve established a recycling project in their town; in a place where the idea of recycling was once as far from most minds as the moon, villagers are now separating their plastic, glass, metal and paper from their organic waste and saving it for the Projuve volunteers, who collect them every two weeks and truck them to the recycling center in Xela.
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On an ordinary day, many of this dynamic group can be found hauling bags of rich volcanic soil and mulch from the surrounding forest to mix into the tiny nursery bags for the seedlings in their Forestry Center. Already they’ve got some 8,000 sprouts here, including white pine, oak, cypress and the endangered pinabete, or Guatemalan fir. Their goal is to plant 100,000 in the surrounding deforested areas by the end of the year.
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But this is only the beginning. Their long-range goals include an ecotourism program in the surrounding mountain valley, built around a spectacular waterfall in the forest near here. They’re collecting plastic and glass bottles in a warehouse near here that they plan to use as the base for an adobe Earthship-style ecological house, and they’ve enlisted the aid of a green architect to help them design it.
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The only thing standing between them and the conversion of Paxtoca into an ecovillage, it seems, is money – but they have faith it will come.

We took turns telling our stories, and each of the youths, from 16-year-old Nicolas to 24-year-old Carmina, shared their fears of a devastated planet and their dream for a green future for their children.

Martin and Carmina took me for a breathtaking hike through the village, up through the cornfields surrounding the forest and down a trail through the woods to the waterfall, which they’ve used as the backdrop for their stunning brochure and their power point presentation.
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Then, since the cooperative had loaned them the car for the day, they took me up into the mountains to see another ecological project in the region, the Aprisco Sendero Ecologico, an educational ecocenter in a virgin pine forest near the town of Totonicapan. The hike among the old-growth pines refreshed the spirit while learning stations along the way taught about the endangered birds and trees this forest harbors.

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Aprisco is an initiative of CDRO, the Cooperative for Rural Development of the West, an organization that has been promoting sustainable development in the Western Highlands for a generation. They took me by the organization’s learning center, where I had a chat with Ana Victoria Socop, one of the organization’s directors.

Here are a few comments from each of these young movers and shakers that will stay with me.

Martin:

“Jesus loved nature! Remember the story of how he released the doves from the people who were selling them in the temple? Remember how he said, the birds of the air don’t worry about where they will get their food, but God takes care of them. God gave us dominion over nature so that we would take care of it.”

“Our Maya culture is closely related to nature, but we’ve lost a great deal of that. So why don’t we go back and reclaim what’s ours? The Maya saying is, leave no one behind. This applies to nature, as well.”

“We created the concept, ‘empre-ambiental’ (empresarial plus environmental) because we have to have development, but it doesn’t need to hurt the environment. I said to myself, if they can do this in Xela, why can’t we do it here? Here we have the resources, the natural beauty. We should be able to make it work here.”

“I give talks to the young people and I say, ‘Kids, now is our time, it’s the time for us to show what we are made of.”

“If they support us from outside, that’s great but we also have to learn how to generate our own financing. A lot of times groups will arrive in the villages and the people will say, ‘What are you bringing us?’ We say, ‘what do we have to offer?’ We’re trying to change the paradigm.”

Ana, 20 – “We were seeing that the trash was collecting all around and it was really affecting us. Sometimes the grandfathers cut the trees in the mountains and don’t replant them. So we got together and we said, we have to make the change; if we don’t, nobody will. We want to have a beautiful place to hand down to the little ones when it’s their time.”

Jairo, 21 – “I’d been studying science and thinking already about the way the future is looking and feeling really scared about it. Then one day at church I heard a talk that Martin gave and I said, and I loved the idea, I was delighted to join this team.”

Pablo, 20 – “Now that we’ve been going around picking up the recyclables the people are beginning to trust us. Guatemala is changing and I realized, I wanted to be a part of it – we have to really put out the effort to make it better.”

Nicolas, 16: “Now is the time we can raise up a generation of change. Maybe the last generations believed that you could cut the trees down and they’d come back by themselves, but now we realize they don’t come back by themselves, and without trees there is no life, we can’t breathe.”

Josias, 20: “Sometimes we young people don’t really think about what we’re doing, just throwing trash and such. Now we’re beginning to realize what our environment really needs, and that’s why we’ve started all these projects, which are going to require a lot of work. And since I’m in charge of fundraising, I know we’re going to need some money to make it happen, and I’m not sure how we’re going to do it, but I know we have to.”

Jose, 18: “Up here in the highlands, the sun used to just warm us, but now it burns us. We have to do something for our planet. We can’t fix what’s already been done but what we can do is raise the awareness of our friends and neighbors, saying what are we going to leave our children? We can’t give them a destroyed planet. We want them to be able to have what we enjoyed.”

Carmina, 24: “I had the opportunity to work as a volunteer in an NGO, and I was sharing with many foreigners. I realized that the reality we were living – we went to many places where there were not more trees, the mountains were completely treeless. We saw places where there was extreme poverty. This motivated me to do something, but I didn’t know what to do by myself. I saw how the foreigners came to help, but when they extended a hand to help, the people would reach out and say, give us more.”

“Why do other people come to help our people when we can do it ourselves? But then a friend told me about Projuve, and at first it didn’t really convince me. The third time I said, let me see what they’re doing. Then it was Martin who told me the whole vision of Projuve. Then I said, I think I can contribute something here. So I decided to stay and see what I could do to realize the vision of a green Paxtoca.”


Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

Bayron Medina: Watching the changes come down

Bayron Medina: Watching the changes come down

(Above: Río Cahabón, Alta Verapaz, photo by Lon&Queta, courtesy of Flickr Creative Commons.)

GUATEMALA CITY – Bayron Medina was like most Guatemalan farm boys; he loved the outdoors, and he spent long hours tramping through the woods, hunting, fishing, and listening to the birds, many of which he could identify by their song.

“I would say listen, that’s woodpecker, that’s a dove – because living in the country you become accustomed to hearing them. A hunter knows what kind of an animal it is when he hears the sound.”

He was one of eight children, and the whole family had to pitch in to make ends meet. They saw themselves as pioneers, wresting a decent life from the jungle in the mountains of Alta Verapaz near Coban.

“We were in the process of planting corn, and preparing the land for the cattle, and my father said, ‘Look, kids, I can only support you in your studies until the 6th grade because there are so many of you. But what I’m going to do is look for institutions with the government that give scholarships, and you’ll have to study hard.’ So that’s what I did, and by the grace of God, I was able to succeed.”

He had just returned from a long drive from the provinces, but invited me to his home in these suburbs up in the mountains above Guatemala City, sharing dinner and a little local hospitality. “This is where the rich people live,” said the taxi driver, but it was similar to any comfortable middle-class home in the states. I had come to learn about a program funded through the United Nations with a mouthful of a name, “Joint Program for the Strengthening of Environmental Governability in the Face of Climatic Risk in Guatemala.”

But before we got to that, he shared with me a little of his own story.

“I want to show you the place where I was born,” he said. “Here are the rivers… When I was young, there were tigers here“ – “tigres,” meaning any wild feline in Latin American vernacular, but most often referring to jaguars. The blue waters, the misty green mountains matched the images in my mind of the mountainous region around Coban.

“We were hunters, and I killed deer. We dynamited the rivers, with grenades, we called them bombs, to kill the fish, and we’d put the battery in the middle of a bottle and when we put the cables together there was an incredible number that would die and float to the top.”

Why was he telling me this? I began to wonder why I was here.

“And we set fires – we burned the tropical forest so we could have our cattle. Here, here’s my mother…” The faded photo showed a woman cooking in a traditional country kitchen.

“It was a really beautiful place, but to raise cattle we had to cut the forest. We cut cedars, mahoganies, it was a really beautiful place – look at these rivers – we dynamited them. Look, this is the house where I was born – but when we arrived it was a jungle, with tigers. We killed two jaguars.“

His face was smiling, but his voice was tinged with sorrow. It felt like he was unburdening his soul.

“You don’t do that anymore, right?” I asked, somewhat taken aback.

“Ah, but then came the change,” he said. “Nowadays, I feel myself with a great debt. I feed the squirrels and the migratory birds; maybe there are ten different species that come in the mornings… We practically tried to eliminate nature, contaminating it and using it up. Having been able to be there and to enjoy the nature, and the fact that now it’s no longer there… I remember my father would throw the trash in the river.

“Now we have children of our own, and we teach them to recycle the trash and we use earthworms to compost with vermiculture – look at how the world changes. We can’t keep on doing things the same way, we have to change.”

And change he did.

It was a long road, however – one that took him to a military academy, where he was able to get a good education and, he says gratefully, avoid combat during the long civil war.

He remembers clearly the day that he realized that things had to change, and that he wanted to be a part of that change.

That day he saw a long line of campesinos – maybe 500 of them – lined up alongside the road in a village near where he’d grown up. He stopped to ask why the people were all lining up there. “There’s no water,” they told him.

“I asked them in Kekchi – everyone in Coban speaks Kekchi,” he explained. “My grandfather was a chiclero, who harvested chicle from the rubber trees; I have aunts who are totally indigenous, and we all speak Kekchi.

“So I approached an older man, about 75 years old, and he said, ‘We’re in a very difficult summer.’ He said he has to get up at 4 in the morning, and he gets to this place around 9 to stand in line, and it takes till 3 in the afternoon to fill his container – but the water is completely dirty.

“But I asked myself, how is it possible in Coban, in an area where there’s so much rain, that there’s no water? We were in a zone that gets about 2,000 millimeters of rain on average.

“So what happened? Well, it’s a region that doesn’t hold water – because of the karst topography, it all flows away. They always used to get their water from a spring that never dried up – but now it was dry.

“When I saw this, I said, I have to find the opportunity to study the question of water. So God gave me the opportunity to take my family and study in Costa Rica with a scholarship. There I learned about the water, watersheds, how to manage the resources, and then I returned to try and apply what I had learned. So that’s what I’m doing, trying to have a vision of how we can care for our rivers. We have so many rivers in Guatemala – so much water – but we just let it pass through and we don’t take advantage of it.”

That’s how Medina came to be the Environmental Services Manager for this joint project of the United Nations Development Program and Guatemala’s Environmental Ministry. This three-year program has returned Medina with a team of specialists to the mountains of his homeland and beyond, working with community leaders to build awareness about the value of their resources.

For Medina, as for the UN in general, there’s no doubt that the climate is changing – and that we’ve only begun to see the effects of deforestation and the carbon the industrial revolution has pumped into the atmosphere.

In the workshops he gives on the subject, he points to an example from his own life: his sister’s house, where he lived while he was attending high school. In 1974, Hurricane Fifi hit the Caribbean, killing an estimated 10,000 in neighboring Honduras, and an additional 200 from flooding in Guatemala. His sister lived on the banks of a river in Alta Verapaz, far from the ocean, but it rained for seven days and the flooding was so intense that her home was flooded.

“It was terrible; the house was underwater for 10 days and it was all ruined. We had to rebuild it, and this time we put it a meter higher, to avoid anymore flooding.”

All was well until Hurricane Mitch, in 1998, which killed an estimated 20,000 and left 2.7 million homeless. Once again, his sister’s house was flooded – but this time, the rain fell for only three days, but the intensity was much harder.

“Once again, my sister cried; once again, we rebuilt the house – this time 2 ½, 3 meters higher.
“Then came another flood – it wasn’t a hurricane, just a tropical storm. It began to rain at 9 at night. By midnight it had risen to these levels, and it flooded the house again. The intensity of the rain – 200 millimeters fell in half a night.”

Medina decided to do a study, and he went to the meteorological station in Coban and collected the historical data showing the quantity and the intensity of rain events in the area over time. It was as he had suspected; the rain was increasing in intensity and frequency.

“I show them the graphics – and I tell them, climate change is doing this. We’re seeing that the storm events are more frequent, more repetitive. When the droughts come, they are more severe, and the river levels will be lower. And during the rain events they are higher.”

So now the question was, what to do about it?

Medina’s program is working on multiple levels: to teach people in the region about the importance of maintaining the forest cover to let more water filter in the ground, instead of letting it run off; to help them quantify the value of keeping the trees in place, or reforesting areas that have been deforested, in terms of watershed protection; to help them map the recharge zones for their aquifers; and to help build environmentally aware, transparent leadership in the villages.

He’s also helping communities to design projects that will help keep the water in the watershed, and helping them to conduct feasibility studies and brainstorm ideas to generate funding. At the end of the three-year project period, three of the ideas will be funded.

The project period is halfway through, and with just a year and a half to go, Medina is feeling the pressure. It’s an enormous challenge; many of the people they’re working with are illiterate, with primary school education or less, and most are extremely poor. Some still think the government is going to come in and do the projects for them; he’s had to explain several times that they are only doing mapping and feasibility studies, and funding the three best projects.

“Three years is so little time to build the types of relationships and awareness that we’re trying to build – but it’s what we have. So that’s our challenge,” he said.

To learn more about the United Nations Development Program’s climate change initiatives around the world, visit their website.

A Mother’s Day thanks to Guatemalan world changers

A Mother’s Day thanks to Guatemalan world changers

Sunset, coming into Quetzaltenango/Xela

QUETZALTENANGO, Guatemala – I awoke this sparkling Mother’s Day to the sight of the Santa Maria volcano from my rooftop, rising green and conical over the mountains that surround this charming city in the highlands. Quetzaltenango, known to Guatemalans by its indigenous name, Xela, is quite literally a breath of fresh air.

The slap-slap-slap of the ladies in the kitchen next door “tortillando,” making tortillas, is punctuated by laughter and chitchat.

My beautiful mother and daughter are well – I’m grateful to them for all they’ve given to me, and I’m grateful to Skype, which allows me to stay connected from so far away. I’m grateful, too, for the capable and loving hands of all the mothers around me, who will be honored today with family dinners, special events and the spectacular bouquets being sold in the streets and markets.

But most of all, I am grateful to the Mother that sustains us all, the Madre Tierra whose fertile soil, abundant rivers, fruitful forests and vast oceans feed and shelter us, century upon century, and I am grateful to all of those who work to protect and nourish her. Since I have arrived in Guatemala, I have met so many.

My conversations with them have revealed the daily destruction of the environment on so many levels; people from taxi drivers to street vendors comment daily on the the increasingly intense heat, the rising floods, the contamination of rivers and lakes and air. The bad news is everywhere, and it can be overwhelming at times. But so is the good news: the fact that so many are dedicating their energy and talent to turning the tide.

To name just a few of those who have inspired me in their labors for Mother Earth in two short, interrupted weeks in Guatemala, and I wish them all a Happy Mother’s Day:

Magalí and Alejandra

Magalí Rey Rosa, the beautiful and eloquent voice for the wildlands whose work over the past three decades has awakened so many, and her daughter, Alejandra Marroquín, who is carrying the torch;

Bayron Medina

Bayron Medina, a descendant of Maya farmers in Alta Verapaz who now works for the Ministry of the Environment and the United Nations, empowering farmers in the countryside to protect their watershed and understand the value of the natural resources that are entrusted to their care;

Maria Jose España

Maria Jose España, Mario Rodrigo Gonzalez and Karla Maldonado of the Mapaches, a vibrant group in the capital who started out to save a forested canyon and evolved to a much broader mission;

Masa Critica Guatemala

Manuel Gomez and the rest of Masa Critica Guatemala, a group of dedicated cyclists determined to establish a right-of-way on the capital’s busy streets;

Steve Dudenhofer

Steve Dudenhofer and the rest of the crew at Ak Tenamit Maya School, where protecting the earth is an integral part of the curriculum, and graduates are making waves around the country in sustainable development, community health, women’s literacy and ecotourism projects;

Maite Rodriguez Blandon

Maite Rodriguez Blandón of Fundación Guatemala, whose work to empower Guatemalan women at the grassroots has taken many forms; lifting women out of poverty and giving them control of their land, she says, is one of the best ways to protect the environment;

Mega and Amanda from Rasta Mesa

Amanda and Mega at Rasta Mesa, working in Livingston to preserve the Garifuna culture and the land;

Eduardo Gularte y Gaby Diaz

Eduardo Gularte, Gaby Diaz and others from the Center for Communication and Development (CECODE), a group of dedicated communicators working to empower people at the local level to use communications tools for social change;

Edith Panameño

Edith Panameño, a schoolteacher working to establish a network of eco-clubs in the Lake Izabal region;

Silvia, Maria Isabel y Luis Rey

The Reyes family of Hotel Ajau, and all the other Guatemalan businesses striving to make their businesses sustainable under the Green Deal and Great Green Deal programs;

Rodolfo y Rai

Rodolfo Trinidad and Rai Aguirre

Rodolfo Trinidad of Campus Sustentable, Universidad Rafael Landivar, and Rai Aguirre of EcoCinergia, Universidad San Carlos, two groups working in a variety of imaginative ways to raise awareness on campus;

Community Radio activists at a CECODE workshop in Xela

Sandra, Tino, Maribel and many others in a network of community radio activists, who have labored in the face of government repression to bring relevant news and analysis to the indigenous and campesino communities of Guatemala, in their native languages;

Movimiento Agua y Juventud workshop in Xela

Alejandra Tiguila and a host of others with the Guatemala chapter of Movimiento Agua y Juventud (Water and Youth Movement), a dynamic group whose combined energy and commitment lit up the night – and my heart – at a Quetzaltenango retreat center recently.

The list could go on, and soon it will: my contact list has mushroomed, and I won’t be able to visit with a tenth of the worthy groups working on conservation issues around the country. Still, what I’ve seen in these two weeks gives many reasons for hope. Keep reading in the days and weeks ahead to meet these and many other world changers along the path of The Esperanza Project.

Cochabamba to Earth: Is anyone listening?

Cochabamba to Earth: Is anyone listening?

I’ve been reviewing coverage of the Climate Change Summit that occurred this past week in the outskirts of Cochabamba, Bolivia, and was simultaneously encouraged and depressed.

Encouraged that some 20,000 people from all walks of life would show up from at least 100 countries to strategize approaches to mitigate what they see as a pending crisis of unprecedented proportions. Depressed that the U.S. media for the most part ignored it. Had it not been for the comic relief from a mistranslated and misunderstood remark Bolivian President Evo Morales made about hormone-filled industrially produced chicken, there may have been no coverage at all in most of the U.S. media. Which is a shame, because the U.S. above all countries needs to be a part of this very serious global dialog. (“Chicken causes baldness and homosexuality”)

Cochabamba, which a decade ago fought and won a battle against the Bechtel Corporation over the privatization of its water supply, has become a symbol of the anti-corporate globalization movement worldwide, and more recently, a symbol of the gathering movement to forestall a global climate change crisis.

Climate change is more than a theory and is definitely no hoax for Bolivians, who have seen their millenia-old glaciers shrink to half their size in the past 50 years. Those glaciers are not just scenery; they provide the water supply for the country’s two largest cities, nearly a quarter of the population. Bolivian President Evo Morales pointed out the irony that sharpens the sense of injustice around this fact: Bolivia, like most of the world’s poorest countries, had little to do with the increased levels of carbon in the atmosphere that scientists blame for the steadily increasing temperatures.

Like the farmers in Africa and Mexico and elsewhere who are seeing their crop yields dwindle, like the residents of Bangladesh, the Maldives and other coastal or island nations who are seeing their shores being eaten away by increased flooding and rising tides, those who stand to lose the most from climate change are those who have benefited the least from the industrialization that is believed to be causing it. Experts predict, in fact, that up to 75% of the effects of climate change will be felt by developing countries. This may be why the industrialized countries are paying so little attention, and why so many people, mostly in the U.S., can continue to believe it’s a hoax, despite all the scientific evidence to the contrary.

That’s why Morales decided to host this alternative conference at the closing of the Copenhagen climate talks in December. The idea was to give those who were marginalized or excluded from the debate in Copenhagen the opportunity to strategize and develop a plan in preparation for the next round of talks, to be held in Cancun, Mexico, this November.

Last year Bolivia passed a bill of rights for the Madre Tierra, Mother Earth, in his own country, and now with Cochabamba, Morales is leading the call to establish something similar for the world. He is also calling for a Climate Justice Tribunal that would acknowledge the imbalance that is currently playing out and would require industrialized countries to offer not charity, not financial aid, to the developing countries being affected by climate change, but mitigation efforts for the consequences of their actions.

These are serious issues, and Morales is far from alone in calling for these changes. So it’s dismaying to see that the New York Times and Washington Post dedicated just a few paragraphs this week to the event – both of them from the Associated Press. One short story mocked Morales for suggesting that consuming hormone-tainted industrial chicken might affect male reproductive organs, a fact that is backed by scientific research on the subject. The remark, unfortunately, was mistranslated to mean that the hormones make men gay – a comment that has been gleefully picked up and tossed about throughout the blogosphere ever since. The climate summit was mentioned in the AP story only as an “environmental conference.” The other, a three-paragraph brief, mentioned in similarly mocking tones that Morales was establishing a “Mother Earth Ministry” and calling for a climate justice court.

CNN, unfortunately, didn’t consider the issue worth its time at all.

Time Magazine, on the other hand, presented a balanced and thoughtful article: “Bolivia’s Morales: Eating Chicken Makes You Gay?”

I forgave the silly and misleading title – perhaps it will draw a few more readers, which is all to the good.

The most comprehensive coverage comes from Amy Goodman on Democracy Now, whose crew reported from the conference for the duration. Stories, videos and podcasts can be seen, heard and downloaded at www.democracynow.org.

(Cochabamba photo courtesy of Wikepedia Commons)

Albert Bates on The Great Change

Albert Bates on The Great Change

(above: Albert Bates, left, with fellow permaculture instructors Hector Reyes and Maria Ros.)

Today in honor of Earth Day I am posting a recent interview with Albert Bates, co-founder of The Farm in Tennessee, the Global Ecovillage Network, author of “The Post-Petroleum Survival Guide and Cookbook” and the upcoming “The Biochar Solution.”

It was my privilege to spend some time with him and fellow permaculture teachers Maria Ros and Hector Reyes at a permaculture training course at Maya Mountain Research Farm in Belize recently, and I can honestly say that few people have inspired me as he has of the urgent necessity to return to the basics of caring for ourselves and our Mother Earth.

I wrote about the workshop in “Life lessons on Maya Mountain” and “From one jungle to another: A modern-day pioneer.”

I was also able to do a brief three-part interview with Albert, which I’ve just edited and uploaded to YouTube. In Part I, he discusses what he calls The Great Change – the inevitable shift to a society less dependent on petroleum and other resources that are approaching their natural limits.

“Can we have a transition that’s graceful and fun, and can we create a society that comes after that’s better than the one that was before?” Bates asks. “That’s a matter of some debate – some people believe that won’t be the case, but I believe that it is possible.” His book “The Post-Petroleum Survival Guide and Cookbook” discusses this theme in depth and gives practical solutions, which he discusses in this interview.

Since The Esperanza Project, my new media initiative, is focused on the sustainability movement in Latin America, in Part II, I asked him to discuss the lessons he’s learned in his travels in the south. His answers are surprising.

In Part III, Bates discusses his new book, “The Biochar Solution: Carbon Farming and Climate Change,” he discusses the potential of a biological technology called biochar as a source of clean energy, a rich soil supplement and a powerful carbon sequestration device.

For more information, see Albert’s blog, The Great Change.

Life lessons on Maya Mountain

Life lessons on Maya Mountain

Solastalgia – 1. A feeling of loss at demise of Earth; mourning for Gaia; profound ennui.
2. Lost connection to nature; an eco-psychological imbalance.
Antidotes: Ecological restoration
Permaculture

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So begins Albert Bates in his introduction to permaculture – a design system whose name originated from the idea of “permanent agriculture” and evolved into a system promoting permanence in the human culture itself.

“Solastalgia is what happens when we find that we are one of the only animals that soils its own nest, and then lives in it. Then we get sad and depressed,” he says. “We ask ourselves, ‘Can we survive?’”

Bates, a founder of the Global Ecovillage Network and a prolific author and public speaker, has made his way through miles of Mayan villages and tropical forest to Maya Mountain Research Farm in southern Belize, as he does every March. It’s part of a hectic schedule that has him traveling all over the globe, from Estonia to the Holy Lands and beyond, preparing willing participants for what he calls The Great Change: a transition to a world less dependent on petroleum and other carbon-based fuels, and more in harmony with the Earth.

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An integral part of his lesson plan is permaculture. Developed by Australians Bill Mollison and David Holmgren, permaculture has grown into a global movement, an approach to sustainable development that strives to work with nature instead of at cross purposes with it. Today, he and Mexican permaculture leader Maria Ros are giving us an intro to the principles of the system. But first, Bates administers a little shock therapy – a collection of seemingly random facts that all add up to a wakeup call for a hypnotized nation.
In 2008, he tells us, “USAnians” – he refuses to submit to the convention that has expropriated the name of the whole New World for the sole use of one country – purchased 68 million vehicles, 85 million refrigerators and 1.2 billion mobile phones. The average European consumes 43 kilograms of resources per person, while the average American consumes 88.

“If we used as much energy per capita as Europeans, we’d be an oil-exporting nation,” he tells us. At this point, the richest 7% – most of whom live in the US – produce 50% of the carbon.

It might not matter, he says, except that our acquisitive ways are driving the planet to the brink of destruction.
One-third of the world’s largest rivers are losing water 2½ times faster than they gain it; they are drying up. 150 villages in Northern Syria have been abandoned due to drought. The same thing is beginning to happen in Mexico, Africa and southern Spain.

“Whole villages are having to pack up and leave. Where are they going to go?”

Desertification, increasing frequency and intensity of hurricanes, disappearing water supplies and rising sea levels are expected to produce an estimated 1 billion environmental refugees by 2050.

“We’re in a cycle we created half a century ago that’s still unfolding,” he said. “The carbon from muscle cars of the ‘50s and the industrial plants of the ‘60s and ‘70s are still making their way into the atmosphere, going through chemical changes.

“We need a shift in human design.”

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Permaculture strives to use “more observation, less perspiration” by studying the lay of the land and the patterns of nature and working with them to create a harmonious design. The objective, he says, is to make oneself obsolete; in a good design, “the designer becomes the recliner.”

That’s why the hammock is an essential part of a good permaculture design, he maintains – although with his busy schedule, I’m having a hard time imagining him doing much hammock reclining.

“We have to ask ourselves: Can nature do it for us? Can we go with the flow? What is the flow?”

The three key principles, he says, are Earth care, people care and surplus share. That last part caught my attention. “If you don’t share the surplus, it becomes pollution,” he said, using as an example the fruit from an apple tree. Shared, it becomes a resource; left to spoil on the ground, it becomes a mess. The same holds true for any surplus production, he says. I imagine how different the world would be if sharing surplus were to become a part of the general ethic.

In fact, before the invention of money some 500 to 1,000 years ago, that was the case, he says. Early tribal people like the Cahokians created great trading centers that stretched from Nova Scotia and Alaska to the tropics, but trade was based on a friendly exchange, and hoarding wasn’t a useful behavior.

Alternative and local currencies have been developed in recent years, giving greater emphasis to the trust-building component of building a local economy. One recent example is the Totnes Pound, created in Devon, England, as a part of the first Transition Town, a movement that is now gaining ground throughout the world.

Bates talked of many things: the process of personal change, the first step in social change; the principles of permaculture, which draws on concepts like biomimicry and stacking functions; and Peace Through Permaculture, a program that has brought together Israelis and Palestinians in innovative initiatives like the Marda Permaculture Project, despite pressure from the Israeli government.

“This is where we became a permaculture army that doesn’t have boundaries,” said Bates. “We’re not fighting for a nation, we’re fighting for a planet.”

The afternoon brought some graphic demonstrations of permaculture principles by Maria Ros, an amazing woman in her own right, who left a successful career as a professional dancer and university instructor to learn and teach permaculture and build an ecovillage in Quintana Roo.

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Maria and Hector Reyes gave a session on designing for catastrophe, a subject they know well, living as they do in the hurricane zone of the Yucatan. Hurricane Wilma destroyed much of the work she had done on her permaculture farm for the past four years.
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She remembers her house shuddering in the howling winds, fearing for her walls and roof as she looked out a window at the thatch-roofed Maya house next door. The palm fronds lifted and fell with the winds, emerging unscathed.

The experience was a traumatic one, but she learned an important lesson: The more we observe nature, and the more we incorporate those observations into our designs, the more sustainable our designs will be.
“The Maya design their homes with thatched roofs, so they are not only strong but they let the wild energy move through instead of blocking it,” she said. “In my house, the walls were crying against the wind.”

Bates chimed in with a dramatic illustration of the concept that I will always take with me.
He drew two circles on the chalkboard – one the size of a quarter, and several feet across.

“This is the earthquake in Haiti,” he said, “and this is the earthquake in Chile.”

Then he drew a corresponding quarter-sized circle inside Chile and a large circle around Haiti, representing the number of people who had died in each quake – slightly over 100 in the case of Chile, and thousands in the case of Haiti.

“That’s the result of design,” he said emphatically.

More on this concept can be found on his blog, The Great Change, which is well worth the read.

The day passed with many more lessons, and this was just the beginning. Tomorrow, we’ll get a look at Maya Mountain Research Farm, with a tour by founder Christopher Nesbitt, who bought it from a cattle rancher in 1988 and converted it from a depleted, eroded and relatively unproductive tract to a richly diverse forest.

Here’s a quick glimpse into my first amazing day at Maya Mountain. Stay tuned for the farm tour tomorrow, what Bates refers to as “one of the best examples I’ve seen of permaculture in action.”


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At home with the Subcoyote

At home with the Subcoyote

Outside in the darkness, up in the hills not far from here, a chorus of coyotes is greeting the coming of the dawn. How appropriate, I think with a smile. Here in Huehuecoyotl, place of the old, old coyote, I’ve just bid farewell to the greatest coyote of all, Subcoyote Alberto Ruz Buenfil, who is letting me use his home as a base for a few days. Now it’s his time to head into Mexico City, where he is taking the lessons of the Rainbow Caravan for Peace into the barrios of that other place of coyotes, Coyoacán.

I’ve come to Huehuecoyotl to meet his family and some of the people who form this core group of world-changers. I’ve come to break bread, share stories, and glean advice for the journey ahead. Alberto has been in a whirlwind of activity since I arrived – he’s playing a lead role in a film about Fellini’s spiritual journey through Mexico, and the ghost-spirit of the great Italian filmmaker was just here to supervise from another dimension the shooting of some scenes; longtime friend Jose Arguelles, author and visionary, just spent some time here. During my two days here he’s just finished another book and sent it out to the reviewers, underwent a root canal and many hours of community meetings and obligations, and bid farewell to his daughter who is on her way back to Spain; now he’s preparing for a thousand-drum salute and fundraiser for the people of Haiti and a visit from Bolivian President Evo Morales, but still he took time to show me around, orient me to the solar shower and the composting toilet, share photos and reminisce about the incredible 13-year nomadic ecovillage whose trail I now follow, from Mexico to Patagonia.

***

An old legend tells of a time when the Earth is in crisis, and life itself is in danger. In these times, the legend goes, a new type of warrior will arise: a tribe of all races, creeds and nationalities who will be known by the universal symbol of the rainbow, and driven by love, their mission will be to save the planet from extinction.

So writes Alberto in his book, “Los Guerreros del Arcoiris.” (Rainbow Nation Without Borders-Bear & Company publishers)-Alberto has dedicated his life to nurturing this tribe, leading the Rainbow Caravan of Peace on an epic journey through Mexico, Central and South America. This nomadic ecovillage traveled from country to country, led by Alberto’s old schoolbus, La Mazorca, colorfully painted to resemble the iconic ear of corn. The ever-changing tribe sought to connect groups active in resistance to the destructive corporate model. They set up camp in jungles and mountains, in indigenous villages and urban ghettos, sharing music, theater and seeds of practical eco-wisdom: green building techniques, simple alternative technologies, natural healing techniques and more. At the same time, they gathered up bits of local lore and wisdom and connected the disparate groups into a hemispheric network. In August of 2009, the tribe finally disbanded, each dispersing to different parts of the continent to continue the consuming work of social change.

Alberto returned to Huehuecoyotl, the picturesque ecovillage established in 1982 in the mountains near Tepoztlan by Alberto and his community of rainbow warriors. He is letting me use his home as a base for a few days as I organize myself for the next phase of my journey. The beautiful adobe-brick home is filled with light from the arching windows that look out upon the grassy valley below; out the front door, past a tall green row of fragrant hoja santa plants, limestone cliffs tower protectively beyond the beautiful home of his son Odin, a musician and one of Mexico’s leading permaculture practitioners.

I will see Alberto once again before I go, when he hosts Bolivian President Evo Morales for a brief visit to the city on Sunday. Meanwhile, here is a short interview I did with him recently, at his office in the Casa de Cultura Reyes Heroles in Coyoacán. His warning comes as a coyote howl in the fading moonlight.

“Like the Mayan Zapatistas said, we have had a long time to dream. Now is the time to wake up. Because any dream we don’t manifest becomes a nightmare, made by somebody else.”

Guadalajara Guerreros: Fighting for a better world

Guadalajara Guerreros: Fighting for a better world

Today I awoke in the verdant mountains near Tepoztlán in Central Mexico, far from the commotion of city life in Guadalajara. Before I move on, I want to take a few moments to acknowledge the work of 24 extremely dedicated, talented and creative people I met during my time in that city, people who touched my life and gave me hope for a better future.

To read about them, please visit Guerreros de Guadalajara, a bilingual entry in my Flickr account.

La Minerva, warrior woman of old and symbol of modern-day Guadalajara, photo courtesy of TheLittleTx, Flickr Creative Commons.

Hope prevails through a bitter winter in Bancos de San Hipólito

Hope prevails through a bitter winter in Bancos de San Hipólito

We arrived in the fog-draped settlement of Buenos Aires, Durango, just after 9 a.m. It had been a hard night’s drive through a pouring rain, enlivened only by the stories of my tireless travel companion, human rights lawyer Carlos Chávez of the Jalisco Association in Support of Indigenous People (AJAGI, by its Spanish acronym).

We still had nearly three hours to go before we reached Bancos, but meanwhile, a group of comuneros from Buenos Aires awaited a ride in the back of his pickup truck. Chávez jumped out from behind the wheel he’d manned since 10 p.m. the night before, greeting a shivering cluster of men with good cheer and a round of hearty handshakes. A breakfast invitation followed, and Nora, Cristian and Yaser, three other AJAGI members, joined us as we were led through what looked like a refugee camp. Nora and Cristian had passed the night in the back of the truck; Yaser was less fortunate, having passed the stormy night in Buenos Aires.

A bitter windstorm had ripped through the village, stripping the tin roofs from many of the mud-brick homes in the middle of the night as the residents slept. The unrelenting rains and near-freezing temperatures compounded the misery as residents tried to piece their lives back together.

Nonetheless, a visit from Carlos Chávez and the folks from AJAGI was more than reason enough for a gathering. One family with a sheltered outdoor kitchen still in good working order invited us to huddle together underneath as the rains began again, and steaming freshly ground tortillas came off the grill one by one to envelop home-grown scrambled eggs and savory pork-seasoned beans and potatoes. Family members clustered around to beam at us and urge us to eat more as we wolfed down what was likely their sole daily portion. But to decline would have been an insult, so we obliged.

The strange winds, the unseasonable rains, and the unthinkable snowstorm of two weeks prior were recurring themes in our visit. The summer rains didn’t come in time to water the harvest, and much of the corn crop dried on the stalk. Of what survived, much succumbed to fungus when the rains arrived late. And then, month upon month of winter rains – and now the tornado-like windstorm that has just descended upon them, the likes of which they’ve never seen.

Climate change is not a theory for the Wixaritari, the tribal people named Huichol by the Spaniards for easier pronunciation. They are convinced that they are living it every day, and they are seeing it in shorter growing seasons and strange weather patterns. They don’t know the reasons, but it worries them.

There’s no time to dwell on it, however. There’s firewood to be gathered, roofs to fix, children to feed – and, for some, a regional assembly to attend down in the valley in Bancos.

Attorney Santos De La Cruz Carillo, community members Nazario Navarrete Lara and Fabian Carillo Aguilar, technical advisors Yaser Ventura and Cristian Chávez, and community members Don Jesús Ramírez and Prudencio Ramírez Navarrete, left to right - and still enough room for me.

Spirits were high as we clambered into the back of Chávez’ well-worn and mud-caked Toyota pickup truck. Bancos is in a sheltered valley, and considerably warmer than Buenos Aires, up in the mountaintops some 7,000 feet above sea level. Also, most of these families originally lived in Bancos. The residents of Buenos Aires are modern-day pioneers engaged in the act of resettling and at the same time reforesting the land ravaged by timber poachers from the neighboring mestizo communities.

The resettlement is all a part of a larger strategy, devised by Huichol community leaders hand-in-hand with Carlos and the rest of the AJAGI team, which has provided legal and technical assistance for nearly two decades, helping the community reclaim 55,000 hectares of land that had been annexed away from their territory and encroached upon over the years. An estimated 140,000 hectares are at stake, including a 10,720-hectare swath separating Bancos from its core community of San Andres Cohamiata in the neighboring state of Jalisco. In a groundbreaking decision in 1998, the International Labor Organization ruled that the Huichol people had a right to the land based on ancestral ownership, even though they don’t hold legal titles – a ruling the Mexican government has thus far failed to acknowledge. Repeated pronouncements from the international agency received no response until last year, when the Mexican government finally ruled in Bancos’ favor – but with a catch. It failed to recognize the ancestral rights outlined in a key document called Convention 169, and so the case remains in litigation.

“The case of Bancos at one point was once described by the Special Rapporteur on Indigenous Issues for the United Nations as probably the most important case in the world” with respect to indigenous land rights, said Chávez. “If the case is resolved in the community’s favor, it will be of benefit to all indigenous people in the world.”

In fact, if AJAGI and the Huicholes of Bancos win their case, it will be the first time that an ILO ruling has superseded a federal law, and will set an international precedent for all indigenous peoples.

But this is only one of many strategies, one layer of the many layers of stories to be told about the Wixaritari people. I was fortunate to hear many of them in the past week, and I will be sharing them as time permits. Meanwhile, here are some images from the enormously resilient little community of Bancos.


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