If I Die Far From You: Part I

Mexico, beautiful and beloved,
If I die far from you
let them say I am sleeping
and bring me back to you. 


This is the rough translation of Mexico Lindo y Querido, one of the most popular and typical songs of Mexico. It represents a common experience of the Mexican people — that of displacement and immigration. As a Jew and a Mexican I come from two cultures that have experienced forced migration and displacement. As a semi-exile, I have lived the experience. I will not relate the details of my exile in this essay, but I, like so many Mexicans, cannot return because of extenuating circumstances. I use semi-exile because I grew up in two countries and one is no longer available to me. The pain this has caused is difficult to describe, it hurts in a very deep way. I can’t imagine what it must be like for those who made their entire lives in Mexico. Home is one way we identify ourselves and losing your home is a bit like losing a piece of your soul. I often find myself getting angry. Angry that my grandmother may never see her hometown again; that I cannot visit my family, and that a government can get away with atrocities. Mostly, I miss the sights, smells and simplicity of my childhood.

Making Mole with my Grandmother

So what does this have to do with food?  Food is culture; it is the shared experience of a region.  Traditional cooking connects us to the land and customs we were raised with. The smell and taste brings back memories of meals shared with loved ones, living and dead. When I make enchiladas or mole I remember the wisdom of my grandmother, “The chef gets the first enchilada and it should be eaten with your hands” and how her breath smelled like onions when she hugged me. I think of my aunts making tamales and gossiping, and the first time I tried coffee with cinnamon and cloves on a road trip to Veracruz.

Food invokes all of the senses, it connects us, but it also distinguishes us. That is its power. When we eat the food of home we are honoring the sacredness of place.

The last few centuries has seen quite a bit of human emigration and immigration, but we still long for home. That is why we cling to traditions, even in a world that is becoming increasingly globalized. We claim Italian, Japanese, or Mexican heritage even when our families have lived in this country for generations. Our bodies contain memories of our ancestral past and it takes a long time to adjust. Forced migration affects more than individuals. It can change whole communities for generations and often it is painful.

Happy Travels: Border Crossing Bridge El Paso/Juarez

So far the best remedy to my own angst has been to break bread (tortillas) with people from my culture who share my situation. It will never taste exactly the same, but it connects me to what was lost. It also inspires me to move forward because in spite of the difficulties, people are incredibly adaptive and resourceful. Remember your home, it is part of who you are. But also remember that it is not impossible to root yourself elsewhere. It just takes time.

 

Reverence and Love

In December I had the opportunity to attend a talk given by Wendell Berry and Wes Jackson. Though the discussion covered many topics, it was essentially about humanity’s place and influence on the natural world and how our need to control it is doing us more harm than good. Agriculture may be the biggest culprit. Wes Jackson said, “The problem with agriculture is 10,000 years old.” That is to say that it is an inherently flawed way of feeding humanity.  This may come as a surprise to some, and it certainly did for me, but this was precisely what sparked my own interest in agriculture. It was the moment I personally realized that a change in the agricultural system was our best hope for the future, and that a profound change in the way we grow food will result in profound changes in our world and how we relate to one another. We currently live in a society that values efficiency over decency and profit over people. Progress. Efficiency. Results. These were the things that were supposed to save our species, but as I look around me, I see crumbling economies, wars, hunger, and the decimation of natural resources. Is this what progress looks like? Can a machine replace a human? Does the outcome justify the means no matter how cruel? These are the questions I ask myself as I try to navigate through this insane society we have created.

(source:http://www.123people.co.uk/s/wes+jackson)

Wendell Barry linked the rise of drug abuse and addictions to the ever-increasing mechanization of the work force, especially the agricultural sector. He argues that when thinking is taken out of work, the place we spend much of our time, life has a tendency to lose meaning. We become drones filling our unsatisfying lives with substances and consumer goods. In the documentary “King Corn” the filmmakers document the typical life of American corn famers. They demonstrate exactly what Barry is talking about; the planting can be done in the span of a few hours by one or two farmers, a tractor, government subsidized seeds, and heavy pesticide use. The farmer, who is entrusted with one of the most vital jobs in the nation is so undervalued and under paid that he seeks other employment opportunities in mostly unskilled labor to supplement his income. He works in monoculture so he cannot feed his family from the farm and he becomes, in essence, a puppet of the state.  Those who pick the fruit and vegetables suffer an even worse fate. The great majority of them are undocumented, uneducated migrant workers who are often housed in near confinement, perform back breaking, monotonous labor in fields sprayed with pesticides, which causes them to suffer much higher rates of certain cancers and respiratory illnesses.

Waste Not Want Not: Lessons from My Grandparents

 A typical Mexican Jewish meal with my family

This Thanksgiving I reflected on the hundreds of times I have gathered around my grandparents’ dining room table.  I thought of the all the meals we had prepared and eaten together, the homework assignments tackled, and the hot cups of coffee enjoyed while sharing stories of the past.  Their early experiences with food have shaped the way I view food and waste, and the lessons they gave me as a child are still the most valuable I have ever received.

My grandfather was born to an upper-middle class Jewish family in New York City a few years before the stock market crash of 1929. When he was still a toddler his father died unexpectedly, and his mother was left to care for four children. The stress, compounded by the failing economy, was too much for her and she descended into madness. My grandfather and his siblings were left to fend for themselves. He would tell stories of growing up on the streets of Brooklyn, but mostly he spoke about being hungry. These childhood experiences with hunger would shape him. He was an excellent cook, spoke of his favorite foods with religious zeal, would eat crumbs off the table, and became very upset if food was thrown away. He was also the most thorough chewer I have ever met. He chewed everything at least forty times (including Jell-o!), believing it was both good for digestion and that it made the eating experience more enjoyable. He died last year at the age of 85 and I am sure his appreciation for good food was responsible for his longevity.

My grandmother was born to poor farmers in Northern Mexico. Their knowledge of the land combined with thriftiness meant she never experienced hunger. She taught me how to cook and the only time she scolded me was when I wasted food. “You cook like you’ve never been hungry,” she would say if I cut too much off the end of a chili or tomato. One time I cleaned a knife that still had some chopped onion on it and she said, “Chefs waste so much food…better to be a cook.” Her inability to say anything directly has always frustrated and fascinated me, but the message was clear: Food is sacred and cooking is an act of love.

Disordered

In a world where billions are dying of hunger it is sometimes difficult to have sympathy for people with eating disorders. But like Drew discovered in his post “Decisions. Decisions?” there is much more to this story than bad personal choices.

Our food system is disordered, and it is making us sick. There is an overabundance of cheap, processed, fattening food and a depreciation of fresh food prepared at home. Most of us are getting fatter, but our cultures worship of thinness continues to rise.  I’d like you to think about all the advertisements you see in a day. How many are advertising food and how many are advertising beauty and/or weight loss products?

from: http://www.dumb.com

I’d also argue that our disordered agricultural practices are contributing to the problem because this is the source of our access to massive quantities of cheap “food like substances” (to quote my man Michael Pollan). In all of human history we have never been able to obtain so much food with so little exertion, and now we are dealing with consequences that we could not have anticipated.

What was going on with agriculture between the mid-19th century and now? Industrialization changed our world and our people in ways we could not have predicted. Suddenly we were out of the fields and working in factories and cities. Life expectancy increased and our access to food improved, but it seems we lost our connection to that food with each passing generation. Check out this information I found from the U.S. census: U.S. rural labor was 60% of the total workforce in 1850, reduced to less than 40% in 1900, 15% in 1950, and 2% since 1975. I learned in school that correlation is not necessarily causation, but I can’t help but think that this “disconnect” from our sources of food has played a bigger role in the eating disorder epidemic than it has been given credit for.

La Mordida

“La Mordida” is a cultural reality that has existed in Mexico since at least the revolution of 1910. Literally, it means “the bite”, but in actuality it is just a euphemism for extortion. It is a payment to get someone to look the other way.

Growing up on the border of El Paso, Texas and Cuidad Juarez, Chihuahua with a foot in each culture, I took this sort of everyday corruption with a grain of salt. It was so common that it seemed no more immoral than jaywalking. It was looked at as a sort of tax to the official who everyone knew was not making a living wage.

It was not until I grew older that I realized that it was much more than paying off a cop to make your ticket go away, it permeates every aspect of society.

Since President Calderon declared a “War on Drugs” in 2006, Mexico and especially its border regions has seen an exorbitant increase in violence. The numbers are astonishing, and the official body count is around 40,000, but I would not be surprised if the number was substantially higher.  The stakes have been raised which means looking away has become much more lucrative, and not looking away carries higher consequences.

source: http://www.westernesa.com

Mexico, though still considered to be a developing country, is by all accounts wealthy so it is puzzling to me that they do not pay the people hired to look after the well-being of its citizens a living wage.

In Cuidad Juarez, which is now considered one of the most dangerous cities in the world, the impunity of the drug cartels and desperation of its people have reached levels unseen before. I have heard personal accounts of hungry police officers breaking into homes and stealing food from innocent families.

In some regions of Mexico la mordida has transformed from euphemism to reality.

Often the situation seems hopeless, but as neighbors to this troubled region we can not support the suffering of innocent men, women and children. There has to be a way to save Mexico. The drug business is too lucrative, and other jobs are scarce and poorly paid. I personally believe that some sort of agricultural reform has to be a part of the national rhetoric, and that through this people can reconnect to their roots, restore their health, and live with dignity. Obviously this is not a panacea, but it is a sprout.