Food Security, Cultural Landscapes, Communities and Sustainable Farming

(photo of agricultural land in Scotland south of Stonehaven)
Another dimension to the whole business of food sovereignty and local food self-sufficiency is of course land, and support for farming economy, and farming communities as well as agroecology. Today at Athabasca University, where I teach, my colleague Ella Haley talked about issues of ethical investment and "land grabs". Her talk title was "Pension funds, farmland grab, human rights violations and divestment campaigns - how are your pension funds being invested?" This struck home with many of our colleagues, as ethical investment is a goal, but difficult to realize. Even our Canada Pension Plan funds are apparently implicated in conversion of vast tracts of farmland in the prairie provinces to investment income generating commodity.....
I think of my late Mother in law, from a marginal north Saskatchewan farm, with five generations on the land. I also think of the now deserted small farming communities between Shell Lake and Saskatoon, emblematic of the great depopulation of the Saskatchewan landscape. About a century since the fields were proved up, and families settled on the land to make their livings and grow food for the country and the world. My partner's uncle was an organic farmer, growing wheat a bit north of the optimal zone for number one red wheat; fall rains in the northern fringe of agricultural production spoil the perfect colour. The value added of organic farming helped make up the difference. He's retired now, though some of his younger relatives still farm or grow specialty fruit crops (saskatoons and the like).
The realization that, as global population grows, and some other forms of investment have become unstable, farmland makes an attractive investment for income generation was new to me. Similarly, the realization that international investors take diverse agroecologies and convert them to depauperate monocultures was familiar to me, but I had never linked the consequences of human ecologies, communities and economies with global investments and commodity production for global trade so explicitly. Similarly, Ella discussed the leap-frogging of pressure to sell out farms for potential development, or as investment property over the Toronto region green belt. Having grown up (in part) in suburban southern California, I was familiar with the leveling of lemon groves for subdivisions, the division of ranch lands and crop lands to accommodate urban sprawl. These days the pressures to give "options" on farms, to convert large swaths of formerly diverse family farms to depopulated properties for income purposes seems to have shifted in scale and quality. The greenbelts of southern Ontario were intended to preserve ecological and environmental diversity, and peri-urban rural amenities around cities like Toronto and Hamilton. This has succeeded, but the geographic scale of economic pressure has simply lept over the protected lands. Certain large scale developers apparently are buying up land in Alberta, in rural Ontario, and in diverse other parts of the globe, like Africa, where diverse swidden agricultural areas and managed diverse forest are converted to vast sterile monocultures of crops like oil palm. The more I learn about that crop, the more I try to stay away from purchasing anything with palm oil in it– but it is virtually impossible to avoid.
On the local scale, the rich Saskatchewan River valley farmlands of northeast Edmonton are also at risk from large investors. The Greater Edmonton Alliance has called attention to the risks of urban sprawl eliminating our local food production capacity. Some of the vendors I patronize at the Farmers Market have thriving market gardens and farms within the city limits.

When my daughter was small, we had a tape recording of Woody Guthrie singing this song:

When the farmer comes to town
With his wagon broken down,
Oh the farmer is the man who feeds them all.
If you'll only look and see,
I'm sure you will agree,
That the farmer is the man who feeds them all.

The farmer is the man,
The farmer is the man,
Lives on credit till the fall;
Then they take him by the hand
And they lead him from the land,
And the middleman's the man who gets it all.

Oh the lawyer hangs around
While the butcher cuts a pound,
But the farmer is the man who feeds them all;
And the preacher and the cook
Go a-strolling by the brook,
But the farmer is the man who feeds them all.

The farmer is the man,
The Farmer is the man
Lives on credit till the fall;
With the interest rate so high,
It's a wonder he don't die,
For the mortgage man's the man who gets it all.

When the banker says he broke
And the merchant's up in smoke,
They forget that it's the farmer feeds them all.
It would put them to the test
If the farmer took a rest,
Then they'd know that it's the farmer feeds them all.

The farmer is the man,
The Farmer is the man
Lives on credit till the fall;
His pants are wearing thin,
His condition, it's a sin,
He's forgot that he's the man who feeds them all.

I think it summarizes many of the issues of the conversion of farming and farmland into corporate investment opportunities with no concerns for the integrity of either communities nor land. It interests me, as I've commented earlier in this blog, that the traits of the cultural landscape of the Salt Steppe (Hortobágy) in Hungary could not be maintained without maintaining the cultural practices of land management realized by traditional herders. Similarly, the health of the agricultural landscape, and its human communities I would argue is necessary for food sovereignty and a healthy social-ecological system here in Canada, let alone where foreign corporate interests dispossess subsistence farming communities in many regions of the global south.

Snow

Snow- pillowy, enveloping, muffling, softening the world and making it new, making it another place, inviting exploration, transfiguring the ordinary and enticing the eye with plays of light and shadow, curves and edgings, hiding shadows and erasing the surface beneath. Or perhaps amplifying it with echoes in ways to make it mysterious and challenging to read. Negotiating snowy landscapes- new ways of locomotion, the potential of skis, snowshoes, and sleds. Some paths become easier, some much harder. And snow has myriad textures depending on wind, air and surface temperatures, intensity of sunlight, and history of the snowpack. Today the first heavy snowdump here at -11°C or so inspired me to dig out skis for the first time, rush to the ravine and ski down the [paved, multiuse] trail [the bike highway which denies winter to enable wheeled communte transport to downtown Edmonton] and set tracks in the openings in the valley of Mill Creek below. If they didn’t normally plow and sand this long grade I would ski it daily all winter long.
Skis are very practical ways to move over country under winter conditions. They enable the human user to take advantage of reduced friction and surface roughness to multiply the propulsive impulse of his or her muscles; the pointed poles provide traction where needed. Saami invented skis as a way to move through the taiga with their herds of reindeer.
In North America, a different solution to cross-country movement in a snow covered winter landscape was invented: the snowshoe. Traditional snowshoes are bent wooden frames netted with babiche (stretched rawhide) or other hide cordage, or sometimes apparently with plant material. These are affixed to the wearer’s feet to enable floatation, permitting the walker to avoid sinking down deeply in deep soft snows. I recall once a gruelling traverse across a snowy slope in the West Kootenays across deep soft snow coming back from a long cross country hike begun on the frozen weight-supporting spring crust of morning…..the return journey, though downhill, was exhausting, and very slow. We were down off the mountain close to midnight, having descended most of the way by starlight and feel. There are First Nations tales of the discovery of snowshoes. These enable winter hunting, moving from camp to camp, and greatly extend the range of human travellers in the Canadian forests. Not only do the shoes enable the human walkers to move over the snow, but they create trails over which dogs can pull toboggans, enabling the transportation of camping gear or other cargo, such as the meat harvested by hunters. In the winter in the North the swamps, lakes and rivers are converted into open trails and highways once they freeze sufficiently. Impassable alder thickets become open meadows, easy to traverse over top of the tangled stems.
Snowshoes come in many designs and webbing patterns, enabling travel over different types of snow conditions, in different terrain, and utilizing different locally available materials. My first encounter with Native made snowshoes was in the mid 1970s just after the birth of my daughter. One of the women who worked at the college where my then husband and I taught was the daughter of a skilled snowshoe maker. Percy made shoes for me and my husband out of local Rocky Mountain maple (Acer glabrum var. douglasii) and webbed them with caribou (Allen’s shoes) or deer (my shoes) babiche for the fine filling in the front and rear sections of the shoes, with heavier cow hide strips in the centre under the foot. The shoes had almost parallel sides, like the form of “Sherpa” snowshoes, and were decorated with red and black coloured woolen pom-poms. Do I have to have these, I asked Percy. Yes, he answered. He later commented that these coloured balls help to prevent snowblindness. He showed us a binding which allowed one to slip into the shoes without buckles. Some years later after I began ethnobotany research I was able to visit Percy in his home village of Kispiox and interviewed him about snowshoe making. I was permitted to photograph him doing fine filling.

Percy commented that the rounded toe of the distinctive Gitxsan design allows the toe of the shoe to ride high to avoid toeing in (and falling) while avoiding bruising the shin and knee, which pointed toe designs may do. The balance of Percy’s snowshoes is amazing; the shoes pivot to bring toe up, and short tail down at each step.

This photo (left) is one of my snowshoes showing the binding and my canvas boot. If snowshoe crampons are needed, as often in the mountainous terrain of the Gitxsan homeland, a short length of spruce stem with spike branches pointing down into the snow is lashed under the pivot point. Below is a shot of me and my daughter snowshoeing on our land in the late 1980s.

The neighbouring Witsuwit’en also make these round toed snowshoes, but more often make a traditional Dene style of pointed snowshoe. (see a pair photographed in Ron Sebastian's Hazelton Gallery in 2005 below)

I learned words for these types of snowshoes, and for the fine and coarse filling. I also learned about how to make emergency snowshoes of a hoop of red willow.The excellence of the local small maples for snowshoe making is reflected in the fact that the Witsuwit’en word for snowshoe, ‘ayh is also the name given to the maple. Maple shoes are strong and won’t break, but they are heavy. A tough small pine will make lighter snowshoes and the “fuzzing” of the softer wood will make them less prone to slipping, though they must be replaced more often.
Travelling to the Yukon in the early 1980s Allen and I encountered snowshoes with birch frames and quite a different webbing pattern. These were of the pointed toe overall shape, but the webbing under the foot was an open rectangular pattern, and the webbing was a distinctive cured caribou hide. We stopped in Teslin where the best snowshoes were said to come from and interviewed two snowshoe makers about how the snowshoes were made and the hide for webbing prepared. We ordered a pair of Teslin snowshoes to enable us to repay those we spoke with, and also to possess a pair of these remarkable shoes.
Some years later, in winter of 2000 I had the opportunity to see and to try Gwich'in snowshoes, intended for the fine powdery snows of the low Arctic taiga and alpine tundra. Wonderful snowshoes of large area, high upturn with rounded toes, and very fine filling. I found them remarkable to walk in, enabling good steady gate across or along the frozen river.

The photo of Gwich'in snowshoes was taken in the band office at Fort McPherson in December 1999.
In Edmonton, skis are usually more sensible than my snowshoes. I’ve only really used them two or three winters out of about 23. Now I see people wearing snowshoes that are high tech creations of completely different design and intent, like my cross-country skis, something for urban recreationists to use for outdoor exercise and fun.

Local Foods, Food Self-Sufficiency and Food Sovereignty

Thinking about local foods again. The global food system is complex and severs links with place at the same time as it offers a dizzying array of food products from all over the world, and also does in fact alleviate famine at the local level- as long as one has the foreign exchange to pay for food. This Saturday at our local Farmer's Market in Edmonton I came across a new vendor– a sheep's milk cheese dairy. Grass fed West Friesian sheep are pastured in eastern Alberta near Kitscoty, and amazing Camebert style cheese and Pecorino produced within 200 km of where I live has appeared.

I have recently been buying sheep and goat's milk cheese at our local Italian grocery; these products come from Greece, Holland and Spain.... wonderful to be able to support sustainable "niche" farming in Alberta now when I buy cheese. This morning with my cereal (not local Alberta made) I went to my freezer and pulled out a tub of frozen saskatoons which my friend and I harvested in the summer in Mill Creek Ravine, a local semi-natural area and park steps from my door. And poured organic Alberta milk on it (the yoghurt is from somewhere in Eastern Canada).

Of course I accompanied the whole thing with good strong espresso coffee made from locally dark roasted fair trade beans; the beans were a combination of Ethiopian and Peruvian fair trade coffees. Definitely not local. Possibly more socially and environmentally responsible than Folgers or Nabob. This summer we had quite a bit of rain, for semi-arid central Alberta. That meant that local urban yard fruit trees bore heavily. For the second time in a decade or so local apricots were abundant, so much so that it was literally impossible to process all of the fruit before it spoiled. My friend Rod was calling friends and acquaintances to come pick. I made amazing "gourmet" apricot preserves and butter from his fruit, small and flavourful hardy yellow and orange apricots.

Again, the sugar to make the preserves was not Alberta beet sugar, but was fair trade cane sugar from the tropics. Hopefully less damaging than standard sugar, with its horrific labour practices. I find that certain tropical products I am motivated to buy fair trade when possible (bananas, sugar, chocolate and coffee are the prime products).

(coffee cherries photographed in Huautla de Jiménez, Oaxaca, Mexico in 1999)

unroasted coffee spread out for sale in the market in Huautla de Jiménez. People used to have garden plots in their yards. The old yards in this city were laid out with space for food gardens. Most of us have landscaped in the recent past, but tubs of tomatoes are found on decks, rhubarb plants lurk amongst the shrubs, and raspberry canes grow along garages or fence lines. I planted an apple and a sour cherry in my yard, and this year got the first substantial harvest of apples, enough to make two batches of apple butter and some pies (supplemented with fruit from a friend's abundant crop). My friend Riva, who learned the joys of berry picking on walks this summer, also converted a patch of quack-grass in her yard to a small garden, and was excited to harvest her own carrots.

She was proud to share, and pleased when I added some of her carrots to a bison stew at a recent potluck. That was local food par excellence - provided one grants the range of half a day's drive to market as "local". Bison from the Peace River country, onions,parsnips and parsley root from Camrose, carrots from Edmonton, herbs from my garden. There are areas of community garden in Edmonton, as well as in many other cities, and these also provide varying amounts of very local food to their participants. I am troubled, though, that eating local is no longer possible for many. Fast food is cheaper and ubiquitously available. Multinational businesses aggressively market their products in all corners of the globe. The Slow Food movement champions the distinctive qualities of the local, but many people cannot or choose not to afford these foods, which may cost more money and often cost more time, requiring life style commitment. So how much do these various efforts contribute to local food self-sufficiency? How much impact does our participation in local food production and marketing make? When I choose Fair Trade and organic exotic products, am I driving local prices up in the areas they are grown so that people may find it hard to access the foods that they grow? What about the pressure to grow luxury products like shade coffee or artisan chocolate? How do their ecological and human rights report cards come out?

A matter of temperature

Minus 25C- gray and starting to snow. Minus 28C yesterday, bright, sunny and cold. Walking in the ravine, with the the scintillating ice crystals on the snow surface and the sharp clear cold was wonderful. They say it will be plus two by the weekend. The temperature oscillations this winter are beyond my experience….drastic changes over 24 hours, or within two or three days. It makes me wonder how plants, animals, people, can adapt. This face of climate change is emerging as a key pattern… unpredictability of weather, and drastic shifts, spatial heterogeneity in the pattern of temperature and precipitation. Such shifts are stressors: winter thaws followed by hard freezes make it hard for caribou to paw through the snow to uncover the “reindeer moss” lichens they eat below. Moose find it difficult to walk through snowpacks with several crusts buried within them. Warm days in fall followed by sudden hard freezes can interfere with dormancy mechanisms in plants….similarly in the spring, where if plants break dormancy too soon and open their leaves, they may then be hit by frost, or a late season fall of wet snow can break limbs and inflict serious damage on trees. Organisms that can tolerate unpredictable change, that have wide amplitude in their habitat parameters, will survive. Anything that requires exactness and predictability in timing of change will be hard hit. Resilience is key… A Gwich’in friend once said, “Our Elders tell us never to plan. Because you never know what’s going to happen.” She then went on to comment ruefully that it was difficult with jobs to be flexible, and take advantage of opportunities… something I feel myself in a small way when it’s a perfect day to ski, but I have a meeting on the calendar that keeps me inside in a windowless room staring at projected powerpoints glaring on the screen. For travelling on the land, responding to the right combination of snow conditions and temperature is more important. As our structures become ever more bureaucratized and removed from the natural world, I worry about our ability to perceive and respond to change. Inertia is strong. The weather may change quickly, but our institutions change slowly, and are not well coupled to changes outside the socio-economic system.