Edible Landscapes and Trees that Feed

There are thousands of species of edible fruit trees in the world yet too many people are still food insecure. So, why don’t we do our landscaping with edible fruit trees? I know two people that did exactly that! Mary and Mike McLaughlin, the founders of Trees that Feed, decided to tackle food insecurity by landscaping Caribbean islands with fruit producing trees, such as breadfruit. In the process, Mary and Mike have worked to provide people with the means to sell the fruits from these trees to a growing local market. 

Mike shared some alarming food security statistics: 

“In Jamaica they are spending something of the order of four billion dollars a year. That’s a huge amount of money to spend on imported food when Jamaica has a natural climate, warm weather, a year round growing season, and good rainfall.”

Breadfruit Tree

Trees that Feed is a project designed to cut down peoples’ need to import food on two levels. First, Mike and Mary have dedicated time to promoting cuisine made from locally available fruit trees. In this sense, they are promoting a local market for these fruits. Second, this couple works with famers to help them get more trees and to increase local production to provide fruits for local markets. 

In the long run the benefits of this process are invaluable because, as we all know, the costs of importing foods are on the rise. And, imported food is rarely of the same nutritional as food produced locally, and imported food does not have the same cultural value.

So, why did Mary and Mike choose to start planting breadfruit or other cultural trees, such as Akee, in the Caribbean?  

Mary answered, “both of us are from Jamaica and these are foods from trees that we are used to and we see the value of them”. But these are not just any trees, Mike added, “they are culturally appropriate species that farmers want to have on their land.” 

And Mike further explained, “It is very important to us that these foods are culturally accepted; it takes a very long time for cultural acceptance of a new food.” 

Mike told me that breadfruit is not actually native to the West Indies, it was actually introduced there 200 years ago. That means that although Jamaican breadfruit has become a traditional food, it is a relative newcomer to the region. He also explained that it took a generation for people to start using it and to accept it. Mike and Mary explained they don’t want to wait 25 years before their efforts begin to increase food security. So, instead of supplying or importing new foods for people, they are planting foods that are already well-known.  

Mike and Mary’s efforts to increase food security are unique because trees are different than cash crops.  Cash crops require fertilizers, they can deplete the soil, and they can be hard to harvest. On the other hand, fruit trees do not require fertilizer and they only need a little care.

And, trees can be planted in urban areas. Mary explained that growing fruit-producing trees in urban areas is important because much of the food in cities is imported from rural areas. 

In addition to their potential in supporting the food insecure, fruit trees can have large benefits for the ecosystem. Fruit trees provide shade, habitat for wildlife, they purify the air, and sequester carbon. In Haiti, breadfruit trees prevent erosion and as a result these trees keep the streams and rivers clear. What’s good for the streams and rivers is good for the fish. So, the fishing industry in Haiti has started planting breadfruit too!

There is no doubt in my mind Trees that Feed is a great initiative, but will this idea catch on in the long term? 

Mike and Mary think so and they have planned to make this project last. They have encouraged the local people to start small and build up their capabilities, their resources, and local markets. They have encouraged people to sell locally because it is easier for farmers to make more profit when they avoid paying duty and other external taxes. 

But, farmers that work with Mary and Mike still face challenges. Mary and Mike have an initiative that helps farmers make gluten-free flour from their breadfruit. However, Mary told me that, “…in Haiti where local artisans are making breadfruit flour they can’t compete against heavily subsidized North American wheat they just don’t make it you know a farmer can’t compete against free”. 

I saw this same trend in Costa Rica where indigenous farmers do not stand a chance selling their local organic corn when the United States is flooding the market with extremely cheap, low quality corn. 

Despite the real obstacles farmers experience in our

industrial food era, Trees that Feed gives people options. 

So, here you have it, a new idea on how to make landscapes edible, using culturally-appropriate foods. But, Mary and Mike have much more than food in mind. They have increased the number of jobs, improved livelihoods, and restored degraded lands in the process.  

For more info check out Trees that Feed or follow them @TreesThatFeed

All photographs in this blog are courtesy of Mary and Mike McLaughlin.

Guest Post: Conservation Policy and Rights to Hunt in the Bribri Indigenous Territory, Costa Rica

In response to my last post on Bribri Hunting Rights in Costa Rica my colleague, Jacy Bernath-Plaisted, wrote a thoughful response: 

Costa Rica’s national parks system is frequently cited as a great success story in the struggle for conservation in developing nations. However, the development of these preserves has brought conservation into conflict with Costa Rica’s Indigenous peoples. One recent instance of this has been the institution of a national hunting ban on the ancestral lands of the Bribri people. While this may be a well-intended attempt to promote conservation, it is a mistake to enforce blanket national policies on land belonging native peoples. Instead, I argue that a more multi-faceted, context specific kind of management is required both to preserve biodiversity and the rights of Costa Rica’s Indigenous peoples.

A - The Bribri Talamanca Territory

The implementation of the national hunting ban on Bribri lands is problematic for two reasons.  The first is quite straightforward: Costa Rica has ratified C169, a legally binding international document that guarantees Indigenous peoples the right to utilize natural resources on their own lands, as well as participate in management decisions regarding those resources. Therefore, by enforcing the hunting ban on Bribri land, the Costa Rican government has acted contrary to laws of its own making. The problem is further compounded when one considers that land ownership and use are often essential in the self-identification of Indigenous peoples, and that hunting plays an integral role in traditional Bribri culture and spirituality. It is neither ethical nor likely to foster good relations to disregard these

concerns. 

Still, this is not to say that the idea of restricting hunting is wholly inappropriate. Generally speaking, the national hunting ban can be viewed as a positive venture. For example, Costa Rica’s protective environmental policies have already contributed to the recovery of endangered species such as the Green turtle. A hunting ban is an appropriate policy on land owned by the Costa Rican government where populations are higher, cultural norms are different, and presumably, there is an overhunting problem. Yet, it is not clear that Bribri land fits any of these criteria. In fact, there does not appear to be research available on whether or not biodiversity is in jeopardy on these lands at all. A more fruitful, multi-management, approach to conservation on indigenous lands might look like this: 1) prevent outsiders from hunting on Bribri land, 2) allow the Bribri to continue traditional hunting of non-threatened species on their lands, and 3) determine which species on Bribri land may be at risk and engage the community in a dialogue regarding the voluntary cessation of hunting on those species. This approach would not only preserve the rights and dignity of the Bribri, but would also likely prove more effective in preserving biodiversity. Schelhas and Pfeffer (2005) found that engaging Indigenous and rural peoples in a discourse about environmental issues changed their beliefs and left them more willing to cooperate with conservation efforts.

Regardless, those who are deeply concerned about conservation may find this process too slow, and perhaps too lenient with respect to the hunting of endangered species; it could be argued that hunting these species for recreational purposes is never acceptable. This point of view is not unreasonable. However, the reality is, the hunting ban is nearly impossible to enforce on native lands, both because of the rugged nature of the land, and lack of manpower. Presently, the hunting ban has not stopped hunting on Bribri land.          

Though there is good reason to enforce strong national polices with respect to conservation, it must be recognized that national policies are not always optimal at the local level. In such cases, more specific policies built on cooperation and mutual respect between government and communities are essential to a positive outcome.      

My name is Jacy Bernath-Plaisted, and I’m currently studying for my masters in natural resource management at the University of Manitoba in Winnipeg. Though my undergraduate background is in creative writing and philosophy, I am primarily an avian ecologist and my present research focuses on the effects of energy development on nest survival in prairie songbirds. Broadly speaking, I feel that the most important applications of ecology are conservation and sustainable development. The need to balance human interests with those of non-human species is a persistent problem both in natural resource management and in my personal life, and I believe that conservation will only succeed as an inclusive process where stakeholders are given proper incentives. 

A Right to Hunt in the Bribri Indigenous Territory, Talamanca, Costa Rica

In 2012, I lived in Talamanca, Costa Rica. There, I was fortunate to collaborate with a group of women and men who taught me about living off the land. These are the people who have taught me most about Indigenous rights, particularly those rights related to the management of natural resources and food.

Courtesy of Google Maps

The Bribri people have lived in Talamanca since time immemorial. In 1977, the Costa Rican government created a Reserva Indigena for the Talamanca Bribri people (43,690 hectares) and appointed local governments for this Bribri Territory. In 1982, “La Amistad International Park” was created bordering and overlapping with the Bribri Indigenous Territory. Also in 1982, La Amistad International Park and the Bribri Territory were proclaimed a United Nations Biosphere Reserve called La Reserva Biosfera La Amistad. 

In 2012, I worked with people from the Kalom ã community. For many of my colleagues in this community hunting was a way of life. People hunted for many reasons that are themselves are connected. For example, hunting was a way of finding foods and medicines but it was also recreation. In addition, walking hunting paths was a way of teaching youth about the land.

My colleagues taught me that hunting was as a process whereby people communicate with beings in other worlds to ask permission to take animals. These beings include Sibö̀ (the creator) and other beings that protect animals. Asking permission to hunt is one way to show respect for Sibö̀ and other beings. Another way of respecting these beings is to hunt only what they need for food or medicine. For example, the Kalom ã residents I worked with, both young and Elder, explained that they did not hunt and sell forest meat. Instead, animals are hunted for household consumption and sharing among families. 

Kalom ã residents' access to hunting was affected by the hunting law that was implemented when the La Amistad protected area was created. This hunting law has resulted in a management plant that dictates what people can hunt, where they can hunt, and how hunting should take place. Specifically, there is only one area of the protected area where Bribri hunting is permitted and even then, they can only hunt animals that are not endangered and they can only hunt using traditional bow and arrow techniques; this despite the fact that many people use rifles and have done so for many years. 

Bribri people have acted differently towards protected area hunting regulation. For example, some of my colleagues explained to me that the hunting ban was the reason why they no longer hunt. A few female colleagues shared that because of these laws they are scared to send their sons out to hunt. For other residents, the hunting ban did not stop them from hunting. 

Generally speaking, the hunting ban was not well received. One reason it was not well received was because it was imposition on Bribri people's rights to food. I learned how Bribri people have their own ways of thinking about hunting and living off the land that are different from the Costa Rican government's ways of managing forests. In fact, Kalom ã Elders created what they call the original hunting laws. These original hunting laws resulted from meetings among Bribri Elders who had convened to talk about hunting rules, based on Bribri values, because of their concern about changes in animal populations in their communities. Although Elders hunting laws were being observed in Kalom ã when the Costa Rican government hunting ban went into effect, these Elders laws were not considered in protected area managment. 

Another reason hunting bans have not been well received is because they minimize the importance of traditional authority and Indigenous decision-making mechanisms. The original Elder hunting laws are a case in point. Although these Bribri laws existed before the Costa Rican state hunting ban, the Elders laws, recommendations, and teachings were not considered in the Costa Rican state legislation.

On the other hand, there are some Kalom ã residents that support aspects of the hunting ban. For example, one Elder explained that government laws might help to control hunting by people who live outside of Coroma but go there to hunt animal meat for sale; this Elder made it clear that these laws should, however, not be applied to all aspects of Indigenous hunting because hunting, sharing, and eating forest meat is part of what it means to be Bribri.

When I gave a presentation on this topic earlier this year at the Association for Tropical Biology and Conservation (ATBC) conference in San Jose, Costa Rica, I received both positive and negative feedback. Some conference attendees were keen to discuss how to best respect the rights to food of Bribri people living in and around protected areas. Other attendees were concerned that Indigenous rights to food were not compatible with aspects of biodiversity conservation legislation. One attendee said it was unlikely that conservation biologists would ever accept hunting in protected areas, especially when endangered species are being hunted. Although the hunting of endangered species is a valid concern, it is important to acknowledge that hunting is a right for Indigenous people in Costa Rica. And, this right is not limited to the act of hunting; it includes the right to making decisions about how to manage Bribri food systems.

All too often we focus on one way of looking at land-use. In the case of my recent conference experience, I learned that many people strongly associate protected forests with conservation of biological species. So, how can we have a discussion about different ways of understanding the land? One way is to think about it from a human rights perspective. As a researcher, it is my goal to use my research to help the public become familiar with human rights to land, to food, and to decision-making. And, I hope the more familiar we are with human rights policies, the better chance we have of convincing policy makers to act on them. 

Indigenous Peoples’ Rights to Food and the Coca-Cola Industry

Coca Leaf (courtesy of Marcello Casal Jr, wikimedia commons)

I grew up drinking Coke. Now that I am more health conscious, I don’t drink Coca-Cola or any other drinks that have a long list of ingredients I can't identify, let alone pronounce. My interest in Indigenous peoples rights to food revealed another reason to turn down a can of coke. Coca-Cola production is part of a history that has empowered Western companies at the expense of Indigenous people and their rights to culturally important food and medicine. Let me explain.

Coca-Cola is a drink that entered the global market economy in 1886. At that time it was a drink made of cocaine, caffeine, cola nut extracts, and carbonated water. In 1903, there were some concerns raised about putting cocaine in soda. So, the cocaine in Coca-Cola was replaced by a de-cocainized flavouring ingredient. Both the cocaine and de-cocainized ingredient come from the leaves of a plant called Coca native to the South American Andes.

The coca plant is not the same as the drug cocaine. Coca is a plant Erythroxylum coca and cocaine is a naturally occurring alkaloid found in this plant. To produce the drug called cocaine you need large amounts of coca leaves (e.g., 1 kilo of cocaine requires 2-3 hundred kilos of coca leaf). Cocaine production also requires many other harmful chemicals, including sulphuric acid, petrol, and caustic soda. Coca leaves contain a very small amount of the naturally-occurring alkaloid cocaine and this small amount does not induce toxicity or dependence, a 1978 scientific study reported.

Indigenous peoples of the Andes make use of coca leaves in their natural form, without chemical processing. For example, the Quechua, Aymara, and Kogi people use the coca leaf for medicinal and ceremonial purposes. I will never forget a skilled Bolivian healer who cured me with coca leaves. I had been suffering from a severe allergic reaction to my contact with alpaca fur (picture on the right). This allergy persisted for weeks and Western medicine was not helping. This healer, in La Paz Bolivia, taught me to chew the coca leaf to extract its natural anesthetic properties and to place the partially chewed leaf where my allergy was manifesting. Within a few minutes I felt relief and within a few days my allergic reaction was almost invisible. Unfortunately, stories such my own, which reveal coca as a powerful medicine, have been dwarfed by the global discourse equating the coca plant with chemically processed drugs.

One of the reasons we equate the coca plant with the drug cocaine is because the coca leaf has been classified as such in international conventions. In 1961, the United Nations Single Convention on Narcotic Substances classified the coca leaf a Schedule I substance and since then its production, use, and trade have been under very strict regulation. For countries that signed onto this UN convention - such as Bolivia - this strict regulation has infiltrated all aspects of peoples’ coca use: from its sale and trade to Indigenous peoples' rights to chew coca leaves for medicinal purposes. Angela Heitzeneder (2010), scholar on cultural rights of Indigenous people in international law, described this UN convention as a global "intolerance toward the essential element of Andean traditional society and cosmology".

If this convention did not protect the right of Indigenous peoples to use coca, surely nobody else could use it either, right? Actually, no. The United Nation’s convention made sure that the famous soda pop Coca-Cola, and the companies involved in its production, were able to continue harvesting, using, and distributing coca.

The use of coca leaves for the production of the Coca-Cola flavouring agent is a permanent exception to the international prohibition against coca. The Stephan Company of Maywood in New Jersey imports around 175,000 kg of coca leaves from Trujillo, Peru each year to produce flavoured chemicals for Coke.

I have struggled to make sense of this. The cultural rights to use coca for ceremony and health were ignored in the 1961 UN convention on narcotics while the rights to produce a soda pop were protected?

If you remember, the Coca-Cola company buys de-cocainized extracts from coca leaves, a.k.a., "de-cocainized flavour essence", from the Stephan Company of Maywood in New Jersey. In the process of de-cocainizing, the Maywood company end up with cocaine by-product. Believe it or not, this U.S. company also has rights to sell this extracted cocaine to international medical practitioners to be used as an anesthetic.

It is hard to believe that U.S. companies have been profiting from the flavour and medicinal uses of coca while Indigenous People have been internationally denied the right to do so. This scenario is even harder to believe knowing that both the Coca-Cola company and western medical practitioners would not know the health properties of Coca without the knowledge and skills of Indigenous people.

In 2011 the Bolivian President Evo Morales challenged what has been called a “historical error and violation of Indigenous rights” by Martin Jelsm, the director of The Transnational Institute’s Drugs and Democracy program. Evo Morales withdrew from the 1961 UN convention in part because of his opposition to the convention’s obligation that “coca leaf chewing must be abolished”. Just this year, Bolivia celebrated their re-entry into the UN convention with an exception made to respect Bolivian peoples’ coca chewing practices.

With the exception of Bolivia’s small victory, Indigenous peoples rights to use and benefit from a cultural plant are still being infringed upon. At the same time large U.S. companies are encouraged to use, distribute, and make towering profits from the coca industry. I believe this disparity is perhaps the most powerful reason to turn down a can of Coca-Cola. In the meantime, I’ll wait for Bolivia’s Coca-Colla to hit Canadian markets. 

Read more:

Heitzeneder, A. 2010. The Coca-leaf: Miracle good or social menace? Masters Thesis, Universitat wien, accessed at: http://othes.univie.ac.at/12287/1/2010-11-04_0421153.pdf

Why I Choose Pesticide-free Foods: Lessons from Costa Rica

I know what happens when a craving inhibits our capacity to engage in sustainability economics and it is not always pretty. That said, a few recent life-experiences have forced me to put more thought into grocery shopping, whether I’m having a craving or not. Here, I've shared the experiences that taught me why choosing pesticide-free food is the only choice for my health, that of farmers, and of our ecosystems.

Malanga root on the left

My first serious thoughts about eating pesticide-free meals came when I visited a friend's organic farm in Costa Rica. Nuria grows everything from rice and beans to heart of palm and malanga. The farm's location is equally as unique as the foods grown there; on one side it borders protected areas - including Tortuguero National Park - and on the other side it borders a sea of pesticide-laden banana and papaya plantations.

Whenever I travel the road and approach her farm, I am always surprised at the stark changes in the landscape. The journey is not so scenic when I begin near the agricultural town of Guapiles. Mile after mile, all I can see are fields crowded with banana trees and littered with blue plastic. There is no wildlife in sight and the only farmers I can see are covered in hooded spray suits, these so-called banana farmer uniforms are necessary to protect them from the harmful chemicals that are sprayed on the acres and acres of fruits. Fruits destined for our grocery stores for us to buy and eat. As I get closer to Nuria’s farm, forest patches begin to break up the monotonous agricultural landscape. Wildlife and humans freely visit her crops, and this time no hooded spray suits are required.

Organic papaya tree, note rainforest in the background

Upon arrival, I am always greeted with fresh fruit, and if I’m lucky it is organic papaya. Nuria has to pick these fruits while they are still a little green because otherwise the toucans will devour them before she has the chance to harvest them. My first papaya was unforgettable, for the taste but also the story behind it.

Papaya thief

Nuria’s story began with a question, Did you know that I have a friend that works on a papaya farm yet always buys papayas from me? When I asked why he would not simply purchase the fruits from the farm where he works, she told me that he did not want them. In fact, this fellow had sworn to never eat a single papaya from his work because the plantations were laden with pesticides. He told her that anyone who has felt their nose burn and their chest tighten as they inhale pesticides would be a fool to eat a fruit smothered in them. He also told her that anyone who has seen farm workers suffer health complications as a result of their work, anyone who has seen young children living near these plantations with unexplained health issues, would be a fool to eat those papayas. I asked myself silently, if papaya farmers won't eat their papayas, why should I purchase them?

I took a minute to think. Only two years back, I had come to Costa Rica excited about eating papayas and tropical fruit salads. I'd been told by other Canadians that Costa Rican papayas were more colourful, softer, and sweeter than any papaya I would find in Canadian grocery stores. Nobody in Canada talked to me about making sure they were organic. So two years ago, oblivious to the differences between organic and conventional products, I bought the latter.

 On my friend’s organic farm, I began to see the real costs of being naive about where my food came from. These were not only costs to my health but to that of others, that of fathers, mothers, and children who have little say in what pesticides are used at their work or near their homes.

My papaya story was not the first I heard of its kind, unfortunately. A year later but still in Costa Rica, I was working as a teaching assistant for a tropical biology course that traveled throughout the country Although we spent most of our time at field stations, I occasionally found myself wandering away to talk to farmers that lived in whatever area we happened to be visiting.

While in Guanacaste, near Palo Verde Biological Station, I met up with a rice farmer. Rice is an important crop in Costa Rica because it is part of their signature meal, gallo pinto. We talked about rice farming, local food, and Coyol palm wine. He was quick to volunteer that he was out of work because of his health: he had cancer. I felt my heart grow heavy. Because I was familiar with the heavy pesticide use in Guanacaste's rice farms, I suspected this had something to do with his condition. I found out that he shared my suspicion. He told me that cancer, as well as other unexplained health conditions, were common among rice-farmers in Guanacaste. He told me that the farmers of the area knew that the pesticides they were using were causing them health problems but what was a small farmer to do when they had a family to support and an increasingly globalized market eliminated opportunities for diverse farming practices?

After showing me some of the lesions he had on his body (and emphasizing that I could not leave Guanacaste with out trying locally-roasted Iguana), we parted ways. On my stroll back to the field station, I was reminded of a few conversations I had with a couple river gold-miners in the Peruvian Amazon a few years previously. Instead of pesticides the gold miners' poison was mercury. They showed me the ways mercury can burn your skin, kill a rivers' fish, and eat away at the health of their children, who have no choice but to drink the mercury-contaminated river water. Just as the papaya and rice farmers, these people knew the danger of these chemicals but did not have the choice to work without them.

Writing this essay brings back the same bone-chilling feelings I had when I was told these stories. The difference now is that I cannot claim the same naiveté as I did when I moved to Costa Rica. The burden of knowing, as some people would put it, seems so small in comparison of the burden that farmers bear because they have no real institutional support to rid their lives of these chemicals. Let's face it, if we buy fruits grown with harmful pesticides, then companies will continue using them and governments will continue to allow them.

I understand we do not all have the privilege to eat organic because it can be expensive and out of reach to many. But, for those of you like me with a choice, opting for pesticide-free is an important one. It is a choice for healthy people and healthy ecosystems. It is a choice to pressure governments and companies to honour the basic human rights to a life free of harmful chemicals.

Want to eat organic in Costa Rica? Check out the Feria Verde in Aranajuez, San Jose, it is one of my favourite markets.

More on plantation pesticide use in Costa Rica: 

van Wendel de Joode B, Barraza D, Ruepert C, Mora AM, Córdoba L, Oberg M, Wesseling C, Mergler D, & Lindh CH (2012). Indigenous children living nearby plantations with chlorpyrifos-treated bags have elevated 3,5,6-trichloro-2-pyridinol (TCPy) urinary concentrations. Environmental research, 117, 17-26 PMID: 22749112

Do you know where your bananas come from?

Although this blog post has been on my mind for months, I did not write it in fear of doing the topic an injustice. How can words on a page possibly bring you to the root of the banana industry where women, men, and children engage in risky and consistently hard labour to bring the perfect unblemished banana to our tables? The longer I sit on this story, the more important I realize it is. So here is my story, based on eight months working with bananas.

When we want a banana the furthest most of us have to travel is to the grocery store. But, this convenience is not without costs. Save for a small label that identifies the country of origin, we have no idea about the farms our bananas come from. We also have no idea what farmers have sacrificed to produce a bushel of bananas. Buying organic satisfies many consumers and frees them of any guilt about unsustainable eating. Until 2012, I was one of those consumers who thought I was doing my best for farmers and the environment when buying organic.

Last year I realized the real danger of this assumption. I realized that the label organic tells us nothing about how banana companies treat banana farmers. I realized that organic bananas are bought and marketed mainly by Transnational Corporations and human rights aren’t necessarily one of their priorities, getting you to buy their organic banana is.

Traveling into these Talamanca Mountains, I did not expect to find the heart of Costa Rica's banana industry

In my experience I was farming organic bananas in a Southern Caribbean region of Costa Rica called Talamanca. I was working with Bribri Indigenous people who have lived in the country since time immemorial. In addition to being an Indigenous Territory this is arguably the most biodiverse region of Costa Rica and where you can find Costa Rica’s largest national park. This region is also hard to access, requiring boat, bus, and foot travel to arrive. Needless to say, when I moved to this remote and lush tropical forest, I did not expect to see large-scale banana farming.

 

Soils in Talamanca that have been organic since time immemorial

The first two questions I asked, when I unexpectedly found myself amidst a lot of bananas were: 1) With all the agricultural land in Costa Rica, why did organic banana companies choose to buy bananas from Talamanca? And 2) How was it cost-effective to export bananas through unpredictable rivers and hard to access roads?

On export day, twice a month, this rocky shore is buried under bananas to be transported to the capital city

As I recalled my research on organic farming, it dawned upon me. For organic bananas you need organic land, land that has not been exposed to chemical pesticides for at least three years. Unbeknownst to many, organic land is something that is hard to find in Costa Rica (because of widespread pesticide use). So, the fastest and cheapest way for companies to find organic land was likely to travel to Indigenous communities, deep into the forest where chemicals have never been used.

You don’t see anything wrong with the picture yet? Let’s dig a little deeper.

Do transnational banana companies pay Indigenous people fair wages?

No. An average farmer receives from 20-160 USD a month, far less than the Costa Rican minimum wage of 502 USD. A kg of bananas is bought for less than one-cent USD and sold – at my store – for about 20 times more.

Do banana companies recognize and respect traditional farming practices?

No. Although Bribri bananas are cropped alongside many other food and timber species, companies do not see this biocultural diversity as beneficial, they see it as getting in the way of profits. Consequently, company representatives have tried to coerce people to increase production (and decrease crop diversity) through training as well as with economic threats.

Fresh peach palm fruits, just one part of the rich crop diversity common on Bribri farms

Do companies have any liability if people get hurt or harmed on the job or do they compensate people if their bananas get lost during unpredictable river transport?

No and No.

As you can imagine, corporations are different and may not have the same modus operandi as the one I experienced in Costa Rica. However, other people’s experiences suggest that transnational corporations elsewhere are similarly concerned with profit increase and similarly disinterested in human rights. My experiences demonstrate that buying organic is not enough to free us of our social and environmental eating responsibilities.

After moving home from Talamanca, it is safe to say that I do not necessarily support large banana companies that simply label their products as organic . When I do buy bananas – and other exotic foods like coffee or chocolate - I look for equal exchange or other fairly traded products.