The Common Language of Agriculture

The name of the Mapuche community was first given to me by Facundo, the gaucho with whom I had just spent a month and half riding across Argentina with, over 800 miles in 40 days. I wrote to the community leader, the shaman, to ask if I could come spend a week or so with his people. He wrote back that although he was happy to hear that I had spent time with other Mapuche communities, he was not interested in having a white girl from the US come disrupt the daily on-goings of his people. And I thought that was the end of our correspondence. A couple of days went by and I received another message from the shaman. This time he wrote that he had a dream about a white outsider, a girl, coming to his people, bringing something important. He wrote to ask me if I was this white girl, and to ask what I thought I was bringing. At this point in my journey through South America, I had seen many white people traveling, thinking that they were spreading something precious, bringing foreign, educated thought to rural, poor communities. I wrote back, telling him that I was not here to be oppressive or to educate other people. I was here to learn, to observe, to make connections, and to educate myself. I told him that I was interested in agriculture, in farming, in creating wholesome connections, and fruitful relationships. I told him that I had grown up beekeeping with my dad. Instead of sending me a message in reply, he sent me three horses. One horse to carry Juan who would lead me through the mountains back to their community, one horse for me to ride, and one horse for the box of bees that I was asked to bring and share with their community.

Meriwether and Facundo on horseback in the Neoguen region of Patagonia, Argentina, November 2007

At first they were silent. I worked next to them in the fields. I sat with them at their fires. I ate with them. I slept on horse blankets in between their bodies. And each day at four, after everyone was done working in the fields, they would gather around me and I would try and teach them about bees. They didn't speak English, and I didn't speak their native tongue, but somewhere, using Spanish as a middle ground and many hand gestures, we found a compromise. And then one day a child invited me to play a ball game with a group of her friends. And somehow, as soon as this one girl overcame her skepticism and opened up her world to me, so did the rest of the community. Suddenly I realized that many more of them could speak Spanish then they had first let on. Suddenly they were extremely curious about where I had come from, and what my world was made up of. Suddenly I could ask them all the questions that had been building in my mind about their farming techniques, culture, and history.
After about a week and a half I had to continue on with my journey. It was an overwhelming goodbye. Everyone in the community wanted to give me something. A piece of ribbon, a fork, a dried flower, a rock…anything to remember them by. It was hard for me to accept anything from them- they came from a world with so little, and I came from so much, yet to refuse would have been an insult. Looking back, I wish that I had brought something more than a boxful of bees. I said this to the shaman. He looked at me slowly and replied that I had given them so much more. He told me that I was the first outsider to ever come spend time with them, and that I had opened up their eyes to other ideas and thoughts. I tried to tell him how much they had given me in knowledge. I tried to show him how much I had learned about new farming ideas, permaculture designs, sword fighting, killing and gutting a sheep and then being able to use or compost every piece of that animal, and many other things. But he merely brushed aside my words with a smile, and slapped the rump of my horse to send me on my way.
As I continue to travel the world, I have come to realize the power of the land. The land is a common language that many understand. It is the form of communication that many times I have fallen back on when words seem to not suffice. And through my journeys and experiences, bees seem to help me build powerful connections whether it is with my colleagues at Colorado College, my neighbors in Vermont, or my newfound friends in South America. Thank you, bees!

The small colony of bees that Meriwether
brought and help set up in the Mapuche
community outside of Junin,
Argentina, November 2007

Honey Gardens is sending a computer to this community of Mapuche. The Mapuche and other indigenous people around the world are being pushed off their land by the government and other groups of people. The Mapuche people have peacefully occupied their land for generations and generations, and many of them do not own deeds to that land. Even those who have deeds to land are intimated by the government, due to a very bloody past history. So when the local police officer puts up a fence on 100 hectares of their land, the Mapuche are afraid and unsure of how to act – they quietly submit to this treatment. We are helping them get a computer so that they can make contact with other communities around Argentina. There is a power behind numbers and organization. We are also helping them get a computer so that they can create a market for their goods in the US. Currently the government restricts the price that they can sell their woven goods for, and thus after a week’s worth of weaving, they receive about enough money to buy a half a week’s worth of food, not enough to sustain a person, let alone a family. We are helping them get this computer, to help them create communication, to help them make a network. We are grateful for your support which helps to make this happen.