Alternative Farming with las tres hermanas–Corn, squash and beans

ears-of-green-corn

I never really tasted corn until I moved to México. That seems odd to say since I grew up in a rural Pennsylvania community and had corn-on-the-cob freshly picked from our garden every summer, helped my mom freeze corn in August and had corn with most meals throughout the winter, but it’s true. I never tasted it before. I thought at first that it was how my husband cooked the corn. When he boiled the elotes (corn-on-the-cob) he left an outer layer of leaves on them. Then instead of butter, we ate them with lime and salt.

red corn

But it was more than that. México has more than 200 native varieties of corn. There is yellow sweet corn, yellow, not sweet corn, white corn, purple corn, red corn and blue corn all of which come in large, medium and small kernel size to name a few that I have sampled. And nothing compares to the taste! Each type of corn has its own specialty dish. Yellow corn for gorditas (fat small tortillas for stuffing), white corn for tortillas, reddish-purple corn for pozole, etc.

For awhile, I was concerned that Monsanto would make it big and destroy the natural diversity Mexico’s corn. However, GMO corn has been officially outlawed, although Peña Nieto’s new reforms that allow foreigners to own parts of México doesn’t rule out Monsanto continued and future interference entirely.  This ban does not include other crops, such as soy and cotton, so México is not GMO-free.  However, corn, or maize, is such a part of the fundamental culture here, that protesting campesino (farmer) groups were able to rally under the slogan  “Sin maize, no hay país” and in November 2013, force the Méxican government to listen.

simpler-life

So since corn is a staple part of the diet, we had to plant some ourselves. As our property is a mere 14 x 20 meters and nearly fully occupied by our home and animal kingdom, we had to ask around to see if we could borrow a bit of land to plant on. We didn’t have too much problem making the sharecropping arrangements, and we were off. It meant clearing off the grasses and barbechando (taking the plow over it a few times), but with the help of Red, it was done in a matter of days.

planting

Next came the planting. We planted in the traditional way with las tres hermanas (the three sisters) corn, beans, and squash. The corn stalk supports the bean plant, and the squash grows along the ground. My husband dug the hole and my son, and I dropped in the seeds. Afterward, my husband tied a large branch to the back of Red and went over the mounds to smooth them out. Again, no more than a few days work.

tree back of horse

Then we waited for the rain. Planting is typically done in this area, central México, after the first day of summer, which marks the beginning of the rainy season. If you are feeling frisky, you can plant earlier, but you risk your newly sprouted corn drying out while waiting for the rains. We try to wait until there have been 2 or 3 days of rain before planting. Not only is the ground easier to work with, but there is less chance of crop failure. But you never can tell. A season that starts out well may not bring enough rain for your plants. This past year, we had to replant a section of our corn because it just didn’t grow well because of spotty rainfall.

The enormous varieties of corn available in México, ensure that there is a type of grain for each climate, soil, and elevation.  As these corn varieties have been developed over thousands of years, the introduction of homogenized genetically altered corn would upset the delicate balance that allows for the continued adaptation of the plant.

planting too

Throughout the rainy season, my husband spent an hour or two each day hoeing our rows of corn. When he had finished all of them, he started in at the beginning again. We hadn’t planted acres and acres, but a manageable piece of ground, about an 1 1/2 acres is all. My husband, of course, was all for planting more, but I pointed out that the years we had planted more, we had harvested less. It was just too hard to maintain properly. So we contented ourselves with what we could reasonably do.

chocho bottle

We do not use any sort of pesticides on our crops. Of course, the chochos (grasshoppers) love that. But we don’t feel the need to exterminate the species to protect our plants. Every morning, when the chochos are still in a deep-freeze sleep, my son heads out and plucks them off the leaves and puts them in a plastic soda bottle. When the bottle is full, he empties it in the chicken area for them to enjoy a scrumptious protein-rich breakfast. Any that escape, are welcome to their lives. Any that return to feast on our corn leaves could be subject to being eaten tomorrow.

Before too long, we had small, tender calabacitas (squash) to enjoy. My husband makes this scrumptious dish of squash, tomato, and onion that we had an average of once a week while the squash held out.

chivada 2

Then, the corn was ready. We had a chivada (corn toasted over an open flame) every second day or so. Incidentally, the word chivada was a new one for me. The first time I heard it I thought we would be having roast goat (chiva). But it’s only corn. I believe that the word began once upon a time as a poor man’s version of a goat roast, a play on words.

The beans were ready after the corn and yummy! The tender, fresh picked beans were absolutely delicious in taquitos dorados (fried tacos). Those that we didn’t eat right away, we set out to dry for future meals.

stacked corn

The corn plants eventually dried out in mid-October. When there were no more ears to be had, my husband chopped down the stalks and set them to dry. The chopping and stacking took the better part of a week. Once they were completely and utterly dry, he had a machine come and molir (grind) the rastrojo (corn stalks) into a coarse powder that we feed our animals mixed with other grains throughout the dry season. The machine is rented by the hour, so this chopping and stuffing into costales (sacks) is done by the end of the morning.

moliendo rastrojo

Moliendo rastrojo. Milling the corn stalks for animal fodder.

Once the corn plants were finished, my husband planted a few rows of garbanzo as a winter crop. Planting after the rains are officially over is risky if there is no irrigation. However, we have the attitude that if it grows, it grows and if it doesn’t we let the goats graze in it.

live-simply-corn

Our efforts at agriculture provide enough feed for our animals so that we need to buy very little to maintain them. If it becomes too hard to feed our animals with what we have harvested, we know that it is time to cull the herds and flocks.

rastrojo molido

What the milled fodder looks like.

Our human household is not year-round dependent on our cultivated crops either. We find nature’s abundance grows wild (See Picking Pitayas and Picking Tunas) and don’t try to store up in grain houses more than we need. We enjoy what there is to be had in season and agree completely with Thoreau when he writes “In short, I am convinced, both by faith and experience, that to maintain one’s self on this earth is not a hardship but a pastime, if we will live simply and wisely… It is not necessary that a man should earn his living by the sweat of his brow unless he sweats easier than I do.”

corn truck

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GMOs: What You Need to Know

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No honor among thieves

thief

Things are becoming interesting in La Yacata lately on account of the morals of our neighbors. I’ve already talked about the pig guys, bull terrier and the horse guy (See good fences make good neighbors–unless your neighbor steals it) but there is a new family that moved in what used to be the profe’s house. They have two children and we have had people stopping at our house and asking where the family with the niña enferma or niña mala (sick girl child) live. As we haven’t been invited to be friends, we haven’t been able to ascertain what exactly is wrong with the girl, who seems to be about 2 years old, but she apparently has an illness or health-problem and thus, the family receives some assistance from both DIF and the church.

water pump

However, they have been finding it rough going in regards to water. The profe’s house only had a tinaco (water storage tank) which holds 15000 liters of water. The family doesn’t have any vehicles that they can bring water to the house and apparently haven’t any money to ask for water delivery from la presidencia (town hall) (See Water Woes). So the husband has been making free with the water from my husband’s brother’s ajibe (dry well). But that doesn’t give him a place to store the water that he steals, so two days ago, a barrica (barrel) that had been on top of the house on the corner for 5 years, went missing. The owner was livid and marched down to see if we knew anything about it. We could only speculate since the barrica (barrel) wasn’t visible from outside the profe’s house.

This same owner, who is renting to the pig guys, started complaining about the stench of these chicken-intestine eating animals (See Miss Piggy didn’t bring home the Bacon) and my husband suggested he not rent to the pig guys anymore. Apparently seeing the sense in that, he went and waited until the pig guys came to feed their animals, and throw out the daily supply of chicken feathers, and let them have it. We could hear the shouts from our house more than a block away.

pig farner

The end result was that the pig guys moved their animals to their half-constructed compound up the hill. It doesn’t have any sort of door, so I am not sure how they expect to keep their little piggys from running wild in La Yacata. Then there is the fact that they are right next door to the horse guy, who is known to have sticky fingers. So the pig guys have been camping out in their truck to protect their porcine investment, but I’m sure they will get tired of that soon enough and the horse guy will be frying up bacon before you can say Jack Robinson.

horse

The horse guy also has his own mini-telenovela (soap opera) going on and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone, namely him, gets shot over it. He had been caring for 3 thoroughbred breeding horses while the owner was out of the country for a month and, not to look a gift horse in the mouth, had made free with the maquila (stud service) of said horses during the weeks they were stabled with him. He charged $1,500 pesos for each coupling and hauled them hither and yon raking in the dough. He did this without the knowledge of the owner and naturally kept all the profit himself. The owner, who paid good money for his horses to be fed and watered, also didn’t know that the horse guy fed and watered his own scrawny yegua (mare) first from the feed and left the others to eat the leftovers.

Well, all good things must come to an end. The owner returned from his trip and came and collected the horses. Less than a week after he picked up the horses, one of them up and died. The horse’s estimated value was over $5000 usd or about $50,000 pesos. Angry doesn’t even begin to describe his reaction. He also found out about the illicit breeding activity. The owner came and threatened the bejeezes out of the horse guy, who now comes and goes at odd hours, sometimes walking and leaving his vehicle to throw the hounds off his scent I suppose.

But all in all, I have hope of it working out for La Yacata. Even though we have been accused of being rateros (thieves) (See Rateros–really?) we aren’t and have made no headway of ridding the land of these vermin. After all, it takes a thief to catch a thief and the way things are looking, los ladrones (thieves) will end by eliminating themselves without any help from me.

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Failing at your own business–Tortilleria

tortillas

One ordinary Friday afternoon, T, my husband’s oldest sister, suddenly appeared in La Yacata. A co-worker in Nebraska had reported her to La migra (immigration) and she had been fired from a job she had for over 10 years. So she packed her suitcases and caught the next bus back to México, thus avoiding deportation.

After a week of cleaning out her father’s house, as 3 single males do not a clean house make, and visiting Mama Vira and Mama Sofia in Cerano, both of who are in their late 80s, T started casting about a way to make a living.

She decided that making tortillas would be a steady source of income and spent several days looking for a suitable local (commercial space). Finally finding one just off of Morelos (the main street on the closer part of town to La Yacata) she set about cleaning it up and procuring the items she would need to go into business.

She bought a comal (large gas heated circular griddle) and moved the refrigerator from her father’s house in La Yacata to the local. As there isn’t any electricity to run the fridge in La Yacata, this wasn’t as big a sacrifice as it might seem. Then she borrowed the glass vitrina (display case) that we had from the Crappe Shoppe (See Failing at your own business–Crappe Shoppe) and bought a scale to weigh out the tortillas, which can be sold by the kilo or the peso (for instance, a person can buy 1 kilo at 13 pesos or buy 10 pesos of tortillas–less than a kilo). She bought the paper to wrap the tortillas in and the plastic bags and a press. She also purchased a costal (grain sack) of corn and lime.

The first day’s sales were good, over 100 pesos. Day 2 wasn’t so good, only 20 pesos. Day 3 was good again, nearly 70 pesos, but day 4 was terrible, not one kilo sold. T came home in tears and had herself a good cry.

With all her preparations, what she had failed to prepare for was envidia (jealousy). Other ladies in town also have their own tortillerias and don’t take kindly to foreigners setting up shop. Although T had lived in Moroleón for 15 years, she had been gone for over 12, so she was deemed an interloper. I suggested she put up pictures of her mother, who was well known before her death last year (See on Life and Liberty) and maybe even my picture since I’m on my way to being just as famous as La Gringa de La Yacata. With our combined fame, perhaps she would be more accepted until she could establish her own reputation.

Then there was the family discord to contend with. Her sister L also has a tortilleria, although it isn’t anywhere near where T set up shop. After the second bad day, we happened to pass L on her moto and she didn’t even nod in greeting. This made me a bit suspicious and later I asked my husband if maybe L had something to do with T’s poor sales. Of course, he didn’t know but said that his brother M had also passed that day and although he saw them (my husband and T) he did not acknowledge their existence.

Both T’s father and I urged her to not despair, telling her that it takes time to attract clientele, but she has the same impatient disposition as my husband and was ready to throw in the towel after just a week. (See Failing at your own business–Taco Express). Moreover, I told her that the change from living in U.S. to México took some getting used to and she should give herself some time to readjust. I know Moroleón likes to style itself a small city, but there is no getting around the fact that it really is a two-bit town, nothing like Lincoln, NE where she had been living for more than a decade. And then there is the fact that we all live in La Yacata, which isn’t even technically a village yet, without water, sewer or electricity–talk about extreme lifestyle change.

Anyway, T decided not to open the next day and go instead to see Chencha, la curandera (healer or wise woman) (See La CuranderaThe first reading). She wanted to know whether she should give up or keep trying.

So up early on Tuesday, she waited for her consultation. When I talked to her later, she was much calmer about things in general. She said that Chencha had told her to have patience, but that things would be slow for awhile. She told her not to invest heavily in the business right now. She said that she saw T going one day back to the U.S. but by plane. As T has never been deported, there is no impediment to her getting a tourist or work visa, provided she owns property and has the required amount of capital in the bank.

Chencha also said that her sister had done something to cause T’s business to fail, thrown some sort of black magic or curse at the local (commercial space) and that this negative energy had attached itself to her. But T shouldn’t worry. This type of negativity always returned rapidly to the originator (sort of like karma). In order to speed that process up, she gave T a spray, a candle, and some soap and to come back again on Friday for the first of the 3 cleansings. T’s egg had come back salty and half rotten. (See La Curandera–A fifth reading ).

When she talked with her sister M, who is still in Nebraska, M scolded her for going to see Chencha. She told T that she should leave things in God’s hands and not be cavorting with witches. When T told me this, I had to laugh over this so-called piousness from the woman who had me falsify a confirmation certificate for her daughter to complete the requirements for her quinceanera (15th birthday) mass after having failed in her attempt to bribe the priest. I told T that Chencha was a curandera (wise woman), not a witch and that she should do whatever it was that she had been told to do. Her father told her the same, having been cured of a debilitating pain in his back through Chencha’s prayers and herbs some years ago.

The next day, T sold every single tortilla. There wasn’t even a kilo left to bring home for supper. The second day after the cleansing was nearly as good. However, she had a surprise visitor at her local. J, the long lost brother, stopped by and brought tamales he said were from their sister L. After he left, T threw the entire bag into the trash and washed her hands thoroughly, not being sure that the tamales weren’t poisoned or cursed.

After that, things started looking up. She started selling menudo on Sundays and always sold out by 11 a.m. Then she asked my husband to make pozole on Saturdays to sell in the afternoons at the local. She also asked a loan of my glass baking dishes to make flan and cheesecake and began making geletinas (jello) as well. (See Failing at your own business–menudo)

She earns about $100 pesos per day with the tortillas, which is enough to get by on and buy supplies for tomorrow’s tortillas. The same holds true for the menudo, she earns about $100 pesos profit, which in turn pays for next week’s supplies.

But there are days when the bus doesn’t pass and she has to walk all the way to La Yacata after a long day, and the water has run out in the tinaco (water storage tank) so she doesn’t have water to bathe, and the gas runs out in the oven, so she has to gather leña (firewood) to heat tortillas for the afternoon meal and she despairs. These days, I stop by with an emergency chocolate ration and commensurate with her in her misery and we work on coming up with a better plan for tomorrow. What else can we do?

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