Foodscapes in Uricho

These photos were all taken in Michoacan and Puebla, Mexico at various points in time.

Foodscapes in Uricho

What do I mean by foodscapes?

There’s a lot to discuss on food justice but first, let me define foodscapes. By foodscapes, I mean the complex interactions between economies, politics, and cultural/social views that shape our relationship with people, animals, environments, and natural cycles involved in the food we eat. Depending on our food options, we can analyze these relationships on local and global levels.

History of food and land in Uricho:

For context, Uricho is a small town between the highlands and lake of the Patzcuaro region. Uricho was known for its huge wheat and corn production, fishing culture, and traditional handicrafts. Now, Uricho no longer produces wheat and handcrafts are in short supply. Corn is still grown and fishers still fish. However, my family and community worry about the increasing costs required to tend the land. My fisher friends worry about the lake quality, rain quantity, and the lake drying. Rain season comes later and lasts shorter these past years in Uricho. The dry season stays longer. These factors and more make farming and fishing more strenuous, more labor-intensive, less profitable, less harvest yielding, and more dependent on conventional agricultural/aquacultural methods.

Elders explain that they have been required to learn and change a lot of their ways. Most of these elders were growing up during the aftermath of the Mexican Revolution (1910-1924). I distinctly remember my grandparents and their friends discussing the quality of this year's maize harvest. They compared this year’s poor harvest of small gaunt kernels to their youth’s harvest of large plump maize. I asked, “why the change?” Mixed answers came.

Water scarcity, chemicals, degraded soil, rainfall, pests. The elders told me that while growing up none of these were problems. Chemicals for pest and weed control were not used. The soil was better and so was rainfall. Uricho’s maize depends on rainfall irrigation. Most people I talked to explain that when the government started directing the waters from the highlands, that’s when the land and people began to suffer the most. Water pipelines drained water away from local creeks and gorges. Elders also associate this time with the sudden dramatic increase in pests – especially grasshoppers.

Learning about Grasshoppers, Chochos, and Chapulines:

My earliest memories of chochos were on my maternal Nahuatl lands in Atlixco, Puebla. Here chochos are known as chapulines (a Nahuatl derivative for grasshoppers) and in Puebla we love to eat them!

I remember coming from Altixco to Uricho with a small bag of toasted grasshoppers. I happily munched on them like a bag of potato chips. When my Abuelo came closer to see what I ate he gasped and scorned at my food choice. His soft wrinkly expression instantly became fierce. I was shocked. I clutched my grasshopper bag tighter in fear he would smack my snacks out of my hand and stomp all over them. He didn’t. He simply said, “Those things are evil.”

I explained that in Puebla, kids and adults roam the cornfields to hunt down chapulines. Later they are boiled, then toasted with lime and salt. Eventually, these russet-colored delicacies are sold in our farmer’s markets. I wondered if chapulines were a problem for campesinos for famers in Puebla. I also wondered what would happen if people in Michoacán ate chochos.

I offered my chapulines for Abuelo to try. He skeptically accepted, chewed, and swallowed. He thanked me and said, “They taste bad.” We laughed. I thought wait till he hears about the other insects we eat.

Industrial agriculture impacting Uricho:

What I discuss isn’t fully researched. My writing comes from observations, stories, and asking questions. How did you care for maize before the changes? Why is the lake drying up? Where was the highland water directed? Various answers. Some said the water went to cities and the government. Most said for los aguacates.

Michoacán is the world’s center for aguacates - avocados. Uricho and many other towns are surrounded by industrial agricultural giants unfairly buying ancestral P’urhépecha lands to mass-produce avocado and other produce for the global market. The market and political pressure many landholders to sell their lands or make other agreements to produce avocados. The government incentivizes landholders to sell or grow avocados by providing them with the resources to build avocado plantations or they promise profits. These plantations use local labor. In Uricho, if you aren’t a construction worker, you’re in the avocado or strawberry fields. A friend of mine has worked in the strawberry fields for about 7 years. It’s backbreaking work but it pays the bills she says. It’s also one of the few things you can do around here. It has also brought severe back problems and respiratory issues for her. Strawberry workers are forbidden to eat the produce or take some home. If caught, they are immediately fired and banned from the premises. I don’t know their regulations but if they disregard their workers this way, I must fear the worst for the land.

Food in Uricho!

I could trace the origins of my food back to Uricho or a neighboring village for about 80% of every one of my meals. Meals were nutritious and ancestral. Ancestral because I know my grandparents and our ancestors have been eating, cooking, and growing the foods we ate. Meals consisted of several types of beans, corn tortillas, fish, chiles, atoles (corn beverage), and traditional vegetables/fruits. We also ate vegetables and fruits grown outside of our region. Meat sources came from our fish which came from our lake fished that same day or from local chickens that were killed and plucked that same day. When beef or pork was eaten, they too were also local and prepared that same day.

My community valued food freshness and therefore ingredient quality. People were very careful with the food they bought, traded, or grew. We live in a small town. Everyone knows everyone. It’s a given to know who grows to best beans, who had the biggest squash harvest, who grinds the best flava beans for toresno, who plucks and feeds their chickens best. I still don’t know all this, but I learned a lot.

Food is eaten by season. Right now, it's mango and watermelon season. Refrigeration was uncommon. Its need was scarce and hardly ever an issue. Storing food usually means storing staple foods like maize and beans. When buying ingredients, reusable bags and containers are second nature. It took me a while to remember to bring reusable containers to purchase liquids, meats, sauces, atoles, etc.

Processed western foods surround us too. Soft drinks are a must. Chips and sweets are sold. I don’t drink soda and limit chips/sweets because of my health beliefs. People in Uricho also know about the health consequences these products have on their bodies. I can only assume why we choose to consume or not consume these products. Part of it might be associated with status and whiteness. People associated these foods with development and White America, so eating them was in some way getting closer to those ideals. People, in particular adults and elders, told me that when they grew up these foods were very expensive and highly sought after. They didn’t have the resources to buy these foods so now that these foods are more accessible and money doesn’t pose much of a problem, these foods are a way of making up for the past longing.

Western scholar words like food apartheid, food desert, food equity, food systems, food security, etc. really have no place here. For those who know about these ideas/concepts, great! Many of these words are meaningless to folk in Uricho but when you begin to describe the actions and meanings of these concepts, people relate. Ideas about food quality and freshness instantly engulf the air. Experiences about growing, harvesting, selling, trading, and eating these foods bubble with enthusiasm, pride, and love.

When thinking about food justice, I think about having the option to grow, eat, and learn about your ancestral food. You don’t have to eat, grow, or learn about it but it’s there if you want. Food justice is also about learning the origins and processes of foods, processed or not. Bringing mindfulness to the table. There’s so much more to food justice that can be discussed but for now, that is what I offer.