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Agroecology in Ecuador ~ A look at biodynamic farming systems in tropical climates |
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Overlooking the Guayllabamba Valley |
Jessica, Jocelyn, Francis, on the finca |
We must eat to live. Before humans can pursue any endeavor, political, spiritual or otherwise, certain biological needs must be satisfied. These biological dependencies are reliant on the presence of clean air, water and land. As such, the human use of land for agriculture is an important and timely subject. For ten thousand years humans have grown crops to provide nourishment. This use of the land has not only shaped the landscape itself, but also the peoples and cultures that have developed. The way we grow food and the way we relate to the land are intricately tied up in our very history. Small farm systems have been sustainable for centuries using improved crops and animals in conjunction with native biodiversity to maintain self-contained and regenerative farm systems. Today these small farms, which supply a majority of human subsistence in some countries, are being threatened by an industrialized, globalized agricultural model that ignores the necessity of long-term sustainability and the potentials of indigenous knowledge and resources.
It was to study the disappearance of small, integrative farm systems in third world countires that I found myself aboard a Boeing 757 en route to Ecuador this past January. As our plane flew south from Miami and the last remnants of land disappeared behind me, I gazed out upon a wide expanse of gray-blue water and tried to prepare myself for the month that was to come. I had arranged to meet Carlos Nieto, a professor of agronomy, at the Quito International Airport. From there I would travel to his 12-acre farm in Guayllabamba. At the farm I hoped to study integrative biodynamic agriculture as well as its sick and spreading cousin, industrial agriculture and evaluate the sustainability of Professor Nieto’s farm. There is no way, I thought to myself. What am I getting myself into? I could write ten volumes on sustainable agriculture based solely on research I have done in my hometown in Idaho—and there I know the context, the history, the language and the customs! I leaned back and closed my eyes, digging deep for those reserves of courage I know must be inside of me someplace, and let my mind whirl into sleep. I hoped I would not get giardia, that I would remember enough Spanish to find the baggage claim, and that agricultural issues in Ecuador would be less complex that in the United States. As it would turn out, none of my hopes would be realized, I would lose my bag, encounter a multitude of intestinal amebas, and lurch into a murky quagmire of agricultural contradictions. But I would come away with more than I could have known to hope for—a vision of the land in Ecuador, a profile of a small and radical farm, ideas beautiful and luminous in my mind.
Ecuador is a small country, a scant 283,560 square feet—roughly the size of Nevada. But this little corner of South America hosts an abundance of geographic, biological, and cultural diversity. Within this limited territory many of South America’s varied biomes are represented. There are more species of birds here than a person could count. In fact it is one of the most biodiverse nations in the world. For those inspired by avian life, the whole of the Ecuadorian landscape is a flurry of wings and feathers and birdsong—1,500 recorded melodies, 1,500 bodies of tiny urgency. The personality of this place is an invitation to something magical, earth-bound, and real.
The Ecuadorian territory is generally divided into three geographic regions, each with its own social, economic and ecological attributes. The western coastal lowlands, stretching along the Pacific Coast from Guayaquil and the upper Amazon Basin of the East—referred to as the Oriente, are divided by the third region, the central highlands of the Andean Range. It would be here, amidst the steep scree slops and mountains of the midlands that my encounter with Ecuadorian agriculture would commence. The central highlands are defined by two parallel mountain chains that run North-South in Ecuador. Whispered among these mountain highlands, thirty volcanoes spire into the clouds, bearing witness to the Earth’s primordial past. Amidst the shadows of these giants, whose names slip melodic from the lips—Chimborazo, Cotopaxi, Pichincha—between these snowy peaks lay a series of fifteen fertile intermountain basins dense with agricultural crops.
Historically, the western coastlands have been dominated by export-oriented agriculture, shipping to the international marketplace bananas, cattle, rice, sugar, coffee, shrimp, and tuna. But until recently these highland basins have been used to support domestic agricultural demands, growing potatoes, corn, barley, wheat and cattle. Increasingly though, non-traditional crops such as flowers have replaced local food production. Latin American Studies Professor Steve Striffler notes the growth in Ecuador of what he terms capitalist agriculture—the interests of multinational corporations exporting to first world countries shaping and controlling the political, and economic structures in Ecuador and the subsequent environmental and social decay. Beginning in the 15th Century colonizers’ primary purpose was to extract wealth from South American colonies to export back to Europe and later to the United States. Little has changed in this mode of thinking, though colonizers have turned into corporations. Ornamental flowers grown for shipment to first world countries have become one of the central highlands primary export crops utilizing the most fertile, crop conducive lands to grow a non-food crop for which the local communities will receive little to no profit.
The colonial city of Quito exists in one of these intermountain basins. The capital city of Quito supports a population of 1,400,000 (of Ecuador’s 2002 estimated population of 13,447,500), its people breathing the thin mountain air at an elevation of 8,550 feet. What was once a relatively small and conservative city, Quito has grown into a business center. From here I would travel 25 kilometers north along the winding and treacherous Panamerican highway to the little village of Guayllabamba. It would be in this rural farming community that my firsthand interaction with Ecuadorian agriculture would commence. The Guayllabamba Valley is a typical tropical dry forest ecosystem. Subsistence farmers here use small, irrigated tracts of land to grow such crops as citric fruits, avocados, corn and beans. What I would encounter on the small farm established by Carlos Nieto was a radical vision of human/land relationships that would shape the way I think about agriculture and the way I understand sustainability.
An Ecuadorian Finca
The pace of life here is slower than anywhere I have ever known. Even the dogs move slowly, as if they too can sense the thickness of the air and the absence of urgency. The rhythm is like a deep, low thrumming in my chest. From a small table on the edge of the street I sit and watch life happen as if from inside a glass hutch—a part of, but separate from this beating. Trucks drive by in varied states of decay and disrepair, filled with fruit or burlap sacks of grain, filled with people in rubber boots and long skirts, hair pulled back in purple ribbons and shaded by bowler hats. A man peddles by on a bicycle, between his legs a child rides on a wooden platform, leaning back into him, bare, brown feet swinging in the breeze. I sip my Coca Cola next to a roadside stand selling chirimoyas, avocados, apples, and mangoes glimmering in their own thick, sweet sap. An old man in gray trousers rides by on a gray donkey, the two of them bent into the sun and the dust. The animals here grow smaller, lankier, and more compact—as if saving their energy for the heat and the hardship of life, for the bugs and long days. The warm air and the sounds fill my ears: men selling cigarettes, t-shirts, and rosaries, their voices calling out in sing-song melodies, dogs bark, children laugh and play in the streets, the ever present music of guitars and flutes. Women walk the streets with baskets of cooked beans and shredded meat, men hiss and click and whistle at women as they pass. I sit and I watch all this, the whole scene in slow motion, the hot air condensing on my lips and arms, even my elbows know how to sweat. I know that here I can learn more acutely what is alive in the world, discover too from this land and its people what is most alive in myself—find the point where these things converge and become fire.
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Nubian Goats provide milk and cheese |
The finca
where I will work for the next weeks lies on a steep hillside above
the Guayllabamba River. These twelve acres stretch out before me,
a slight green promise of sustainability in a landscape that pulls
life from the land and watches it wash to sea with each new rain.
Many of the small farms and local production systems in Ecuador
are integrated production units that have achieved high levels of
recycling and advanced use of technologies and management skills.
Consequently they have been able to minimize the use of external
inputs and optimize farm productivity with the available local resources,
such as solar radiation, soil fertility, water from rainfall, native
biodiversity and others. Many small farm production systems, especially
in tropical countries such as Ecuador, are truly sustainable production
systems because they are environmentally sustainable, economically
viable, and socially equitable. Yet due to the growth and predominance
of conventional agriculture today, most of these sustainable production
systems are endangered or even abandoned as larger commercial landholders
(primarily multinational corporations) consolidated their properties
and inefficiently produce export crops. |
However, the diminishing quality and number of small farm systems in Ecuador does not negate their importance. In Ecuador almost 60 percent of the agricultural land is identified as eroded land. Out of this percentage, more than 12 percent has been taken out of production because of the serious levels of soil erosion and lack of fertility. In addition, agricultural land distribution is totally unequal. More than 80 percent of farmers own only 20 percent of the agricultural lands. Meanwhile, 20 percent of the farmers own approximately 80 percent of the land. The large properties are devoted to cultivation of species for export or industry such as sugar cane, banana, and oil palm, while other large ranches are entirely devoted to cattle production. This means that most of the food produced for the local and national markets must come from small farmer production systems. The imbalance between the decreasing quality and quantity of small farms and increasing need for such agricultural enterprises illuminates the urgent need for sustainable farm systems and agricultural paradigms that fit the contours of the land and people.
However, “modern technologies” and markets in the globalized system are promoted everywhere and are the most serious threat to small farmers in tropical countries such as Ecuador. Most research centers and extension programs that currently exist focus primarily on the economic profitability of high-tech production systems. Their main goals are to increase productivity and to improve the farmers’ incomes in the conventional agricultural framework. Consequently, most conventional technological options have been proposed to increase crop yields or animal production, both as independent commodities, forgetting the significance of sustainability, biodiversity, soil and water quality, and erosion prevention. Many of these high-tech solutions are incompatible with local environments, land topography, soil conditions, and farm size. The result is a clear mining of the farm production capacity. I toured countless farms where soil erosion has increased, water resources are drained or contaminated, and biodiversity and vegetation covers are over exploited. The final consequences are poverty and migration by rural people.
It is because of this tendency towards technological panaceas and the ruinous results that tend to follow that Carlos Nieto began the development if an innovative educational center to teach rural people, students, and landowners about the benefits of alternative agriculture and natural resources conservation. He told me that the concept behind this integrative farm system relies on a hypothesis that “an integrated farm will guarantee food security for rural families, support natural resources conservation, and furnish goods and services in a sustainable way for the family and for market.” By buying this steep piece of land in the Guayllabamba Valley and applying sustainable agriculture practices, Professor Nieto is asserting an alternative paradigm to the conventional norm, one that has centuries of success to support it. Since 1999 he has been adding to this finca, little by little, building its biodiversity and expanding its regenerative capabilities.
Agriculturist Trauger Groh emphasizes the need to shape integrative farm systems around motivations very divergent from those of other commercial approaches. He notes the difference between economic motivations and profit motivations. Farms should regenerate themselves economically without the need for outside resources, be more diversified, and a primary source of food for the local community. Export farming with a profit motivation however, has a hidden loss; there is far higher energy input than energy output. “Thus,” states Groh, “the profit for a few becomes the loss of many. Production is truly economic when it is done with the lowest possible input of substances, energy, and labor, and when the output exceeds the input.” It is precisely this mode of thinking that has directed Carlos Nieto in his work on the Guayllabamba finca.
The main benefits I encountered in the integrative farm model established at the finca are: (i) the integrated farm will guarantee natural resources conservation without the need to set up extra activities to conserve them, (ii) in the integrated farm model, all components in the farm interact with others in an interdependent and complimentary way, and (iii) people can learn new skills or can improve what they know in a site where they have the opportunity to see and participate in practical activities instead of only attending theoretical courses in a classroom.
Education and training programs for environmental management, energy conservation, and sustainable production are priority needs that most third world countries have almost forgotten. And it is urgent that these programs focus on integrated production systems, as well as the functioning of traditional farms as integral units with many interacting social and economic elements. The finca in Guayllabamba is commited to optimizing the use of three natural resources that support agricultural production: water, soil, and biodiversity. It is the philosophy of Professor Nieto that the method of promoting change is to focus on a fourth resource—people who live and work in the rural environment.
Description of Production Modules at the Guayllabamba Finca
The main production activities on the finca are fruit and forage crops. Included in these are raspberries, figs, lemons, mandarins, chirimoyas, and forage crops such as alfalfa and queens grass. These crops are planted as an agroforestry experiment, integrating fruit trees and perennial leguminous forage species. Integrated crop plots such as this perform multiple functions. Many afternoons I sat on the steep hillside amidst a forest of yellow fruits, my lap full of sweet figs and fat wedges of lemons. Because much of the land available to small farmers in Ecuador is situated on steep hillsides, there is a significant problem with erosion. By planting trees with deep root systems, supplemented by perennial crops such as alfalfa, there is a drastic reduction in topsoil loss due to tilling and irrigation. Additionally, leguminous species such as alfalfa are the primary diet of the farm’s goat and guinea pig herds whose manure, through bio-composting, contributes to the fertility of the soil.
 Polyculture: mandarins, blackberries, alfalfa, onions, corn |
 Looking out at the Guayllabamba River from the finca proper |
Because water is a major limited resource and irrigation water quality is low, there is an elaborate water filtration system at the finca designed to clean and enhance irrigation water before it reaches the crops. Before the water reaches the farm through the Canal Arabia, is filtered through two sandy small tanks that remove large particulate matter. From here, the water flows onto the finca proper. At the highest point on the hillside there is a cement water storage pond which is filled with an aquatic plant called lirio de agua that filters contaminants out of the water. Irrigation water for the entire Guayllabamba Valley comes from the Cayambe River, whose source is the Cayambe Volcano. Because most agricultural land in use above the finca use excessive amounts of pesticides, herbicides and fertilizers, and because rural Ecuador lacks a working waste disposal system, the water in the Cayambe watershed that reaches the finca is highly contaminated. Through storage in the holding pond and ample filtration through aquatic effluent-eaters, water quality is significantly improved. After the water is filtered through the holding pond it is carried through a duck pond. Not only are ducks and geese raised for meat and eggs, their manure and other debris enriches the irrigation water before it reaches the cropping plots. In this way, every feature of the farm has multiple functions and works together in a biodynamic and self-perpetuating system. As financial resources will allow, Professor Nieto hopes to add a fish-raising module at the Guayllabamba finca. This will be another water recycling system. Irrigation water circulating across the fish pool will give it an additional function before its final use as irrigation water.
 Canal Arabia |
 Lirio de Agua cleaning irrigation water in holding tank |
At present crops are irrigated through the traditional method of gravity fed canals. Because of the topography and sandy soil, the Guayllabamba finca is a prime example of areas that favor soil erosion. It is very well known that irrigation is one of the factors that increase soil erosion, especially when the method of irrigation is inefficient. Gravity fed irrigation is not an efficient method of transporting water and so the finca does experience soil erosion. But they are presently in the process of installing a sprinkler system on most of the farm acreage. Unfortunately, most small farmers lack the financial resources to install such systems.
The major sources of financial revenue for the finca are the production of goats and guinea pigs. The farm has a herd of 39 goats, seven of which are currently milking. The milk is drunk by the family that lives at the farm and goat cheese is sold in the Guayllabamba community. Guinea pigs are considered a delicacy much as veal is in the United States. The herd of more that 300 guinea pigs provides a stable source of income at the finca. Small numbers of rabbits and chickens are raised for consumption on the farm. A long-time vegetarian, I gave up my herbivorous ways to eat my first guinea pig. While I do maintain that fire-roasted guinea pig is an acquired taste, I am thankful that such an environmentally benign animal is considered a delicacy!
In addition to large crops of mandarins, chirimoyas and lemons, there are small plots of eucalyptus, walnuts, avocados, papayas and onions. We also ate from a small plot of carrots, beans, and watermelon. A small three-acre section of semi-arid vegetation has been left with its native biodiversity. While there is still much needed research on the multiple uses of these plants, some of those uses are already known. Some of the bushing and herbaceous groups found here are bromelias, cactus, agaves, wild berries, wild tomatoes, and several medicinal plants. There are an assortment of perrenial flowering plants of the genus Jacaranda, Prunus, Juglands, Eucaliptus, Morus, Arundo, hibiscus and others. Around the perimeter of the native reserve the Canadian Casuarine tree has been planted and which is an excellent source of timber. As such, this additional biodiversity on the farm not only contributes to soil maintenance and water retention, but also has medicinal applications, ornamental uses, firewood, forage, and timber.
En Route—Quito to Miami
There are no easy answers to agricultural questions in any region of the world—certainly not in Ecuador. I think about this reality as I fly back home to cold Minnesota weather and American excess. On many days in Ecuador I got caught up in thinking that Ecuador is on the road to the very same environmental problems that we presently face in the United States—they are simply about a hundred years behind. If water use continues unmonitored and unregulated for much longer, diminished instream water flows and contamination will lead to uncounted consequences to aquatic ecosystems. Inefficient irrigation systems and tillage in topographically volatile areas will lead to irreversible topsoil depletion and subsequent loss of fertility. The continued burgeoning of industrial agriculture and global agricultural markets will lead to an even more severe decline in sustainable subsistence farms in a time when they are even more necessary. Multinational ownership and consolidation of arable lands will continue to produce monoculture crops, ever-increasing use of pesticides, and depletion of biodiversity. There will be increased agricultural pollution. There will be social and political upheaval due to lack of self-determination for rural farmers. There will be a decline in food quality and an increase in food cost.
There are many days when I know that this is only the tip of the iceberg and it makes me sad. But just as in the United States, Ecuador has its own population of visionaries. The sustainable agriculture movement is small, but it too is growing. For a few weeks I was able to live and work on a small finca in the highlands of Ecuador and dig my hands into deep brown soil. I became familiar with a farm that has learned to know itself in the landscape. I met a family who gets up each morning with the sun and who work all day in its hot embrace. They know every inch of their twelve acres and the needs and functions of every plant. They get what they put into the land—sustenance, security, income—and all these things sustainably and equitably. I was taken into this life and shown something resplendent and nurturing. There is a rhythm at the finca that is more than words, more simple and whole and life-giving than anything the United States has ever shown me. This place has its own set of problems, but it is beautiful.
This trip has been so many things for me, challenging and joyful. I feel as if I have been cracked open and exposed, if only to myself. I have learned to deal with a plethora of bugs and crawling creatures, bites and rashes and scratching and scales. I have come to accept and embrace the heat, the slowness and uncertainty, a culture and language and customs I have barely begun to uncover. I have faced the daily challenges of living and traveling and experiencing the whole range of human emotions in close confinement with a friend, and to do so with grace and laughter. I have been pulled and stretched and tested as never before.
Yet in the midst of all this there are these melodious moments—moments of connection and clarity. There are moments when I encounter a success in environmental conservation, moments when I make a connection with the people I meet and sense a common purpose and vision. There are moments when I can see my own heart. I feel that kind of anticipation that I used to feel before Christmas when I was little and the way I feel right before I paddle a new river, like the universe is about to throw something immense at you and you can hardly breathe until it comes. As I fly home from Ecuador my heart aches in a new kind of way. It is not sadness, but a kind of melancholy, letting go of an experience that has been challenging and dreamlike all at once. I did not find the blueprint for agricultural sustainability in Ecuador. There are no blueprints, there is only a wandering in the right direction. I could spend my whole life wandering toward that dream.