From what I have read so far, it seems like the dynamic surrounding quinoa, a “Lost Crop of the Incas” and previously Neglected and Underutilized Species (NUS), is even more complex and controversial than I had originally thought. It also seems to be a curious amalgamation of many issues that I’ve spent the last six months studying in Africa and Asia. For example, the social, economic, and environmental impacts of the “quinoa boom” in the West are far-reaching and complicated. It is important to note that quinoa, revered as the “mother grain” by the Incas, is a small cereal/grain-like food that is actually the seed of a fruit, is a complete protein (contains all 20 essential amino acids) rich in vitamins and minerals, high in fiber, and both cholesterol and gluten-free. While western consumers’ craze with this super food (especially vegetarians and health freaks) has helped uplift previously marginalized farmers by providing them with remunerative prices for their crop, it also renders quinoa too expensive for most urban-dwelling Bolivians to afford. This paradox raises questions of domestic food security in a country where roughly 1 in 5 children is chronically malnourished and cheap imports and processed food abound. The lack of widespread domestic consumption is further complicated by the fact that many urban elites (“mestizos” who have mixed European blood) have historically looked down upon quinoa as a sort of dirty peasant/native food. Unsurprisingly, however, increased prices (a threefold increase in four years) have instigated a sort of “repeasantization” (a debated term) of the countryside in which both young and old people alike are returning to their native villages to cultivate quinoa on what is often forsaken ancestral land, which is creating resource conflicts and community tension, especially surrounding indigenous governance and land management systems.
Furthermore, the increased demand in the US and EU is encouraging farmers to expand and intensify production (while simultaneously abandoning traditional cultivation methods such as fallow fields, crop rotation, and animal husbandry of llamas – a fertilizing relationship upon which quinoa depends), which has the likely potential of eroding soils and depleting nutrients in areas that were ecologically fragile from the beginning. The region to which I refer is the Altiplano, which means "high plain," and is the tabletop area located between two Andean mountain ranges: the western Cordillera Occidental and the eastern Cordillera Real. According to LP, “The haunting Altiplano, which ranges in altitude from 3500m to 4000m, is bound by these two great cordilleras. It’s an immense, nearly treeless plain punctuated by mountains and solitary volcanic peaks.” Quinoa is a sort of miracle crop in that it flourishes in harsh environments where most other plants cannot exist: sandy soil, little rainfall, high altitude, and subfreezing temperatures. With global climate change in mind and the expected increases in drought, desertification, and weather extremes, quinoa proves rather promising, compounded by its high nutrition in the context of prevailing global hunger. It makes sense then why the United Nations declared 2013 “The International Year of Quinoa” (and 2014 has been dubbed “The International Year of Family Farming” – how fitting for my Watson!).
My hopes while in Bolivia for the next three months include following the quinoa commodity chain from field to export, exploring the on-farm management practices, organic certification, post-harvest processing, marketing and sales. I want to understand how farmers are altering their production methods because of increased demand from the West and what the social, economic, and environmental impacts of these changes are. If possible, I hope to spend time living in quinoa producing villages learning how to grow and maintain it. I already have two places in mind: a small village on the shores of Lake Titicaca, the center of origin of this fabled Andean crop, where they grow the sweet variety of quinoa, as well as a small village in the southwestern Altiplano in the inter-salar region (between the massive salt flats) near the Chilean border, where they are growing the bitter variety (aka quinua real or royal quinoa). I want to compare certified organic quinoa production with traditional methods and understand how mechanization in the form of tractors, disc ploughs, harvesters, threshers, and washing units have influenced the lives of farmers, perhaps enabling them to scale up their production. Along these lines, I am curious as to the role of both the State (which has maintained a largely neoliberal economic agenda with an emphasis on mechanization) and NGOs in the strategic planning of quinoa commercialization, as well as of farmers’ groups and producer cooperatives, which may be facilitating technical support and marketing. I read one paper titled “Food Sovereignty and the Quinoa Boom in Bolivia,” written by Tanya Kerssen for the International Conference “Food Sovereignty: A Critical Dialogue” at Yale this past September. Although it is only a draft paper, it raised a number of interesting points that I hope to follow up on during my research here. I will quote one passage here: “A number of factors, then, converged for quinoa exports to take off in the 1980s: the mechanization of production; the consolidation of producers’ associations; the personal interest and commitment of ‘values-oriented’ investors; trade liberalization; and the increased consumption of healthy, organic and exotic foods in the North” (10). In my opinion, this coming together of a number of facets is a bit of a ‘perfect storm’ that allowed quinoa to blossom, so to speak. However, with soaring prices, cultivated land expanding rapidly (production is up 40x what it was in 2000 and the area under cultivation has more than doubled in the last four years), and potentially unsound management practices, it begs the question of the long-term sustainability and growth of the quinoa sector, especially if it continues to be modeled after Western agro-industrial development. In short, by the time I leave Bolivia for the next destination (which is still TBD), I want to be a quinoa expert, having spent time in the field and the warehouse working through the nuances of this Andean pseudo-cereal. I really enjoy eating quinoa at home, but I also strive to understand the complex political economy and environmental ramifications surrounding my gastronomic preferences. Thus, I felt compelled to come to Bolivia, which is not only one of the largest exporters of quinoa in the world (alongside Peru), but also home to the largest percentage of indigenous people in the Americas. In fact, according to LP, “A place of mind-boggling superlatives, landlocked Bolivia really packs a punch. The hemisphere’s highest, most isolated and most rugged nation, it’s among the earth’s coldest, warmest, and windiest spots, with some of the driest, saltiest, and swampiest natural landscapes in the world. It’s also a land of paradoxes: South America’s poorest country, Bolivia is the richest on the continent in natural resources.” So here I go! Wish me luck as I dive into the next leg of my Watson journey and simultaneously attempt to navigate the figurative waters of the Bolivian Altiplano.
.jpg)
.jpg)
Quinoa in love - photo from a community outside Oruro
Quinoa from one of the producers' communities I visited later in the month
No comments:
Post a Comment