To break down stereotypes.

To undo the learning in your head.

To learn that you have a lot to learn.

To taste how foods are prepared by other people’s hands.

To drink local juices, brews, concoctions with the people.

To know how a place smells and not just how it looks.

To be discomforted.

To feel what it’s like to not understand what someone is saying.

To feel the satisfaction of communicating with someone whose language you do not speak.

To better recognize from where it is that you come from.

To realize the arbitrariness of political borders.

To find that humanity’s borders are non-existent, unless we create them.

To get turned around, lost, disoriented.

To be helped by someone who sees that we need it, and as a result, have a new found trust in “strangers.”

To wake up in a bed that isn’t familiar, and be excited and a little afraid about the unknown that awaits outside the door.

To see the differences in how people live, and learn to accept them, and eventually celebrate them by adopting some of those ways into your own life.

To see what makes people smile on planet Earth.

To walk in forests, deserts, grasslands, mountains new to you.

To swim in oceans, lakes and rivers that your skin hasn’t touched.

To assist in making the world a better place for all of us to live by working side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder with each other, sharing our skills and determining, together, rich and poor, “educated” and “uneducated,” how to answer a call of need.

Remember when Arrested Development broke into the national music scene a decade or so ago?  With their African rhythms, the drumming, the social-conscious lyrics, they were a breath of fresh air with an edge.  We need some AD these days.

                  ***************

“Dig your hands in the dirt,
Children play with Earth.”
                –Arrested Devlopment

                  ***************

Turn off the TV.  Get your old clothes on.  Tell the kids to put their dirty clothes on too.  It’s about time we get D-I-R-T-Y. 

Plant the flowers.  Get the veggie garden prepped.  Dig a hole to contemplate how exactly you see the “hole” part of the hole.  Get dirt under the fingernails.  Walk in the woods.  Lift rocks to look for crawlies.  Dig worms and take a kid fishing.  Make mud pies after the rain has stopped.  Have mud pie battles.

                    ************

It is important that we not lose our connection with the earth.  To place significance on this thought is rather easy when one gives thought to death. 

“Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust” isn’t just something to say to give symoblic meaning to our passing from this plane.  It is testimony of who we are physically, and places much-needed remembrance of our place on this earth.  Understanding of the familiar saying credited to Chief Seattle–We are a part of the earth, not apart from the earth–is essential if we are to care for the earth. 

Care will come with intimate knowledge.  Knowledge will come with learning through practice, as well as through study and scholarship.  Knowledge needed to care for the earth can come with prolonged encounters with earth in its rawest states, encounters that breed respect for the earth in the face of human humility.

                   ************

“Dig your hands in the dirt
Children play with earth.”
            –Arrested Development

It is as elemental as that.  Getting back to basics is all we need to do. Feel the earth.  Watch plants grow out of it.  Eat food that is nourished by it.  Put your little ones in it and watch them.  Get yourself in it.  See what happens.  Feel what happens.

(written 25 April 2004)

Two Farmall International tractors sit by the road.  One has a fresher paint job than the other.  Both have “For Sale” signs on the front of them.

Governor Rendell recently proposed $80 million to go towards farmland preservation.  Many farms wait to be added to the money-short programs.

“It’s Not Farmland Without Farmers” was stickered on the lower left side of a pick-up truck bumper.

                 **************

The past two Saturday mornings I helped load hay and straw from the barn on to the flatbed truck parked in the dung yard.  Last year’s crop emptied the barn out;  this year’s crop will fill it back up.

The early morning air and light cast an innocence over the days.  Men worked together and laughed while doing so.  The barn smelled liked old barns do.

We had sufficient hands there to do the job, making each individual effort little in comparison to baling in the summer. 

                    ************

I am the son of a family farmer.  If I were to farm the land, I would be the fourth generation to do so. 
The likelihood of that happening is quite small. 

My uncle used to wear a baseball cap that said “Farming Doesn’t Pay,” or something to that effect.  Perhaps it would be more apt to say “Family Farming Doesn’t Pay.”

Because such a statement is true, I have no option to even consider the remote idea of being a family farmer.  Aside from that, I do not have the intellect, the patience, the will, the stubborness, the faith, the work ethic to be a farmer. 

Still, it does not sit well with me that across this state, and this country for that matter, people like myself cannot afford the notion of being a family farmer.

Of course, we can be a farmer if we do it while also working another full-time job, or if we find a niche market, e.g. organics, or a local buyer who supports small-scale, family-run agriculture.  The strain on the immediate family of the former positive possibility is why I would never do so.  The economic odds of the latter are too great for most others to seek that route.

                  **************

So what happens when a family recognizes that the family farm is not going to be passed down to the next generation? 

Some sell it off and get decent money to put in the bank, allowing them to live a more comfortable life.  Who can blame them?  I would love nothing more than seeing my folks enjoy themselves with vacations, the opportunity to see places they’ve only heard about, to meet up with friends for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if they choose.  They’ve both toiled as family farmers.  They’ve both made sacrifices.  Let it be their time to reap the benefits.

If you don’t sell, you probably seek out a way to protect the land.  You want to know that the open space, the fields, the lifestyle will not die when you die.  You hope the farm goes into a preservation program.  You go through all the paperwork.  Maybe your farm is considered worthy of preservation.  Maybe it’s not.  Maybe there’s money to give you for selling the development rights to the preservation program.  Maybe there’s not. 

                ***************

Why do most Americans have no idea that an entire way of life, a culture, an important figure in the shaping of this country is dying, and will be dead in the coming decade or so?  If they did know, would they care? 

Will the preserved farmland be farmed with the love and care it is farmed with now?  Or, will the preservation program consider agribusiness operations, e.g. mass poultry and swine production, cash crops, to be “farming,” consequently not using the farmland the way a family farmer would have used it?  Does this matter? 

Who will farm the land?  Does it matter?

                  ************

If any of these issues resonate with you, call, email, write to your political officials and tell them what you’re thinking.  It is important in sustaining a healthy democracy that we exercise our voices.

(written 11 April 2004)

One of the questions I often get asked by folks back home is, “What’s the food like?”

 

I tell them it’s mostly rice and beans, and that, overall, I like the food of Honduras. It’s not fancy and definitely isn’t fit for a king, or a finicky American for that matter.

I liken it to the notion that it’s a simple man’s food, kind of like meat and potatoes in the States.

 

Anyway-I’ve decided to take y’all on a food tour of Honduras. Some things may cause you to wrinkle your nose and others may leave you salivating. Whatever it may be, enjoy!

 

Here’s the menu I’ve compiled:

 

Mantequilla-a sour cream, sometimes runny, sometimes thick, that is served as a condiment with every meal.

 

Queso-a dry, salty cheese made in the campo.

 

Plato Tipico-typical plate that most always includes red beans, rice, queso and mantequilla and some kind of meat, be it breakfast, lunch or dinner.

 

Baleada-refried beans served between a flour tortilla. You find women in the central park of major towns selling these every evening. Usually mantequilla is added. I get mine with grated queso. In restaurants you can get gourmet baleadas … add eggs, onion and sometimes avocado. The baleada is one of the national foods of Honduras.

 

Enchilada-the same as a tostada in Mexico.

 

Taco-the same as a burrito in Mexico, only the tortilla is rolled and fried into a cylindrical shape with beef or chicken inside.

 

Anafre-a great appetizer. Refried beans are served in a clay bowl that sits over a vase-like pot filled with charcoal. Fried tortilla chips, queso and mantequilla come with it.

 

Rosquilla-a doughnut-shaped, bread-like snack made from corn meal and queso. They are hard to bite and very dry tasting, but good with honey or jelly. Think cookie.

 

Horchata-ground rice, cinnamon and sugar drink.

 

Licuado-a natural fruit drink made in a blender with ice, water or milk. My favorite is pineapple, orange, and banana with ice.

 

Tamarindo-tamarind fruit ground up or boiled and served as a drink. It’s just as refreshing as lemonade.

 

Tajaditas-plantains, sliced thin and fried like potato chips.

 

Tostones-plantains sliced thick and fried.

 

Pastelito-fried dough stuffed with any combination of rice, potatoes and ground beef.

These are a great snack on the buses where women and children sell them.

 

Mondongo-tripe. This is a delicacy in Olancho where it’s served as a soup.

 

Sopa de Frijol-bean soup usually served with a greasy, fatty meat bone and rice, and sometimes with an egg dropped in (poached or hard boiled).

 

Sopa de Caracol-a north coast delicacy, this is conch soup. The snail is removed from the shell, cooked and served in a coconut milk-based soup. To me, eating conch is like eating rubbery fish.

 

Pan de Coco-coconut bread

 

Pan de Mujer-bread made by a woman in the campo in her adobe oven. It is quite tasty and goes great with morning tea.

 

Tamales-com meal stuffed with rice and meat, wrapped in a banana leaf and boiled. Another great snack.

 

There you have it, an introduction to the food and drink of Honduras. You could probably find many of these items, or a variation thereof, at any Mexican restaurant. If you’re feeling adventurous and want to try and make some of them, licuados and baleadas would be a great place to start. Give it a try.

 

(written 1999)

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