As an environmental studies student at Middlebury, I’ve been inculcated a sense of interconnectednes that I think is essential to understanding our environment. I think that only by thinking holistically- beyond the components of systems and cycles, into their interactions and mutual influences- can we come with viable solutions to the challenges we face.

Both of the TEDx Talks we watched and the excerpt we read touch on many different connections related to our food systems, but the connection that resonates with me the most is that of us human beings with nature. Whether it’s understanding that forests provide much more than timber, that crops and food have a history and story, or the methods to surviving in different environments, the importance of revitalizing that connection cannot be understated, but we are still far from reaching it. As Dr. Shiva points out as long as our lives continue to be driven -or even indirectly dictated- by greed, and as long as we don’t shift our mindsets to understand that nature is not “out there” but that we are part of it, that this planet is our common home, it will be impossible to solve the biggest environmental issues we face which often result in other social and economic problems. The challenge lies in the different perspectives from individuals on different stages of any system or cycle, as their conditions might hinder them from being able to see themselves as part of nature. This is why I found Dr. Shiva’s comment on the fact that we all eat (or rather need to eat) so interesting: it provides a sense of interconnectedness in a parallel way rather than cyclical or circular which i think increases the potential for different people to connect to each other -and thus with nature- through food.

As an urban farm intern, I’ve gotten the chance to work on the land, and reestablish my relationship with nature, and although I don’t I don’t necessarily consider plants or trees my ancestors, I appreciate them more each day, and can feel more connected to them, and to our mother Earth.

My initial reaction when I started reading Trubek’s account on L’affaire Montavi was some sort of combination of a smirk, an eye roll, and a head shake. Globalization. It reminded me of my visit to my friend’s house near the sleepy town of Blue Hill, Maine, where, my friend told me, there had been much tension and animosity because of a new Dunkin’ Donuts that would be opened. The conflict had the two sides one would expect: some neighbors concerned that their town would fall victim of American commercialism and others hoping that it would improve its social and economic life. I also thought of how salvadoran farmers have stood against large multinationals and are able to provide their own seeds reminded me of the importance of community organization and unity in the face of possible “threats” from large corporations.

When I was done with the reading, however, I was glad that they seemed to share a more positive connection, one that it’s easier and certainly more enjoyable to think about: food memories.

As Trubek points out, place has a very important role in our relations to food. Whether it’s french wine or Vermont maple syrup, there seems to be a feeling, an aura, that transcends the differences in qualities or properties that might render these varieties of these products better than others. I think it’s closely related to our personal perceptions of these places, and it’s increased by our own experiences and memories. The same applies to many types of foods. Eating a meal, drinking a beverage, or simply briefly inhaling the soft aroma of a plant or herb can open a window into our memory, allowing to hold on to something that’s long gone, or to connect with some part of our identity. This is the reason why I, too, enjoy the traditional recipes that my grand mother cooks. They take me back to places that I’ve left, and people that I’ve lost, but that I always carry with me.

I remember asking myself that very question during my first day as an intern in DC Greens’s Urban Farm in DC, as my supervisor pointed to the small, bushy trees, and told me they were fig trees. I don’t recall ever seeing a fig, and much less a fig tree, before, so I didn’t give it much thought -until yesterday, when I was trying to figure out what has caused the sudden, annoying blisters on my hands and forearms. On Friday I decided to undertake the task of cutting the fig “suckers” or sprout, and sure enough, the trees seemed to have avenged my arbitrary (ab)use of gardener discretion by burning me with their sap which turns out to be slightly toxic to certain very few people under the “right” conditions. Considering how much effort and hard work I put into my fig pruning endeavors, It is needless to say that I’m not thrilled about the idea of eating a fig or being near a fig tree.

This is just the latest in a series of things that I’ve (re)learned working in this small 3/4 of an acre urban farm: a beehive’s buzz, sun burns, ant bites, sweat (from non recreational/sports activities) and just plain exhaustion after a day of work under the sun.

In light of the readings this week, and my own short and rather soft farming experience this summer, I can only imagine what it’s like to work picking tomatoes, working 60+ a week under the blazing Florida sun without a break for hours. or What is it like for Vermont Dairy farm workers to go to work at 2:00pm and get out at 5 or 6 am the next day? When I learned about both the Immokalee workers movement in Florida (referenced in Lappe’s article) and the farm worker led Milk with Dignity Campaign in Vermont, I couldn’t help but be moved by the stories of these workers because as an immigrant myself It was hard to reconcile that we were so similar, and yet we were in such different situations. Similar problems can be found in other food industries. As some of our readings point out, people in the global south and people of color in “developed” countries have been getting the short end of the stick, and we need to address many bigger factors if we are to effect change and revolutionize society through the food movement. I might be proving Holt-Gimenez right in that people trying to create this change tend to take a limited or narrow approach rather than the broader, more cooperative one we need, or that maybe because we have been brought up in the system we see bigger change as unattainable, but personally, it simply disgusted me to even think I could continue with my privileged life without trying to help these people.

Now, I still don’t know or care much about figs, but I do know (and like) tomatoes and milk, and I think most people do, so why is it that it is so hard to acknowledge the people who harvest these and other foods for us and treat them like humans, with dignity?