Nine Inches of Rain

Yesterday I finished the book, Stuffed and Starved: the Hidden Battle for the World’s Food System, by Raj Patel. It was a fascinating read about how uneducated and uninformed we are about the food we buy and eat. If you are interested at all in how the world’s food system works: from farmers growing crops all over the world, to the pesticides used, to the corporations that buy the crops and then sell it in supermarkets that are designed for us to only buy more, more, more, than I thoroughly encourage you to give Stuffed and Starved a try. 

I bring this up, because yesterday, after I finished the book, Francia and I went to a community in la loma- the hills. It was about 40 minutes away, through a couple towns and then up a mountain. The community sits on the ridge of the mountain itself, and when we looked to our left (west) we saw the western part of the DR unfold before us. When we looked straight ahead (north), we saw the grand expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, and to our right (east), the green hills of the Cibao region of the DR. It was incredible. I felt like I was on top of the world, or at least the DR.  

The community we visited doesn’t have running water or electricity. Most people have one or two solar panels on their roofs, which can charge a cell phone or run a small fridge for a few hours a day. All the water they use comes from rain. So if there’s a dry spell (like what we are experiencing now) everyday can be nerve-wracking. Francia is trying to help them build a small church, and maybe after an aqueduct. About a month ago, the mayor’s office of the nearest town (Hatillo Palma) promised money and resources to help with these two projects. Of course, when we went yesterday to take them up on their offer, they didn’t deliver. In fact, the man who made the promises wasn’t even in the office nor did he answer his phone all day. Typical. 

As I sat there yesterday, waiting for Francia to finish up her business and while eating delicious bananas picked right off their tree, I started talking to three community members. The inevitable questions about me being an American came up and the conversation went something like this:

Man #1: Where in New York are you from?

Me: A state called Nevada. It’s really far from New York, like five hours in a PLANE from New York. It’s really different from New York.

Man #2: Five hours from New York?! But you still live in New York right?

(This is the point in the conversation when I try to give a quick geography lesson, by using elaborate hand gestures, about how the name of the United States is in fact, the United States, and that New York is only a state and a city of the United States, and how most people live outside of that state and city.)

Man #3: Nevada huh? It’s really cold there. Is it cold all year?

(They know this because nevada in Spanish literally means snowfall or snowcapped).

Me: Yes, it is cold there. Right now, there is snow on the ground. But no, it’s not cold all year. It is really dry in the summer. We only get 8-9 inches of rain per year.

Man #1: Nine inches of rain?! Very dry, oh my God! Nine inches? Are you sure? What do you eat? What can you grow with nine inches of rain? 

At this point in the conversation, Man #3’s wife came over with a cup of coffee. Coffee they had planted and grown themselves, picked the coffee pods off the tree, took out the beans and roasted them and then ground them down to the dirt like texture to actually be able to make coffee. I took a sip and let the over-sugared, strong flavor sink in. I looked around and saw plantain trees growing, and Francia carrying a bag of tomatoes she had picked from someone’s garden and I honestly could smell the neighbor making orange juice. Only the freshest of oranges, plucked from the tree and then cut open in the same motion, smell that strong. The man asked me again, “What do you eat with only nine inches of rain a year?” And my honest answer was, “Everything.”  

As soon as I said that word, todo - or all, I felt a singe of embarrassment. Here I was a guest in a community that has never known consistent electricity, or what it’s like to have abundance of water flowing endlessly from a tap in your kitchen. A community where what they eat is what they grow. And if it’s a dry season or a bad crop, then it’s a bad time for eating. There I was, telling them my home in the US gets only nine inches of year a rain, but despite this, I can still eat whatever I want when I want. The power of supermarkets.

Think about it. We all know, for example, that apple season in the US is in the fall, but are apples supplied year-round without fail? Of course they are. And as Stuffed and Starved taught me, most of our apples now come from South Africa, shipped over thousands of miles to supply a grocery store near you. Think about going into your average American supermarket in your average American town and only buying what is grown in the area during that season. I think we would find our choices very different from what they are today.

Living here, I’m starting to recognize significant changes within me, and my thoughts about food are definitely one of them. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been a fan of food and always will be. What I mean is I’ve always considered myself an eater. You don’t have to tell me twice to come to dinner or to get seconds. However, living here, I have developed a new and intimate connection with food, that I’m not sure is possible in the states (unless you are a farmer, or possibly are already on the go organic! bandwagon). For example, mango season is upon us here in the DR. Every day, I look at the mangos growing on the trees around La Caya, and my mouth waters. The messy, sticky goodness of eating a mango plucked fresh from the tree is an insatiable experience, and one I am grateful for and very much anticipate enjoying before I leave in May. 

In six weeks, I’ll be back to living my blessed and plentiful American life. I’ll walk into supermarkets and feel that sense of excitement knowing all the vegetables, fruit, bread, baked goods and products are mine for the buying. After reading Stuffed and Starved, I will now also feel some regret and inspiration for change in our food system. However, what I hope to remember most, and never forget, is what it meant to wait for a season; to watch food literally grow before you, and learn how Mother Nature and man can work together to supply a bountiful harvest. There are numerous reasons why Dominicans eat a limited number of things: plantains, eggplant, bananas, rice, beans, lentils etc. One of them is because those foods actually grow here. Imagine if those rules were applied to a place with only nine inches of rain per year.