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Growing Options
It takes a farmer to change decades-old farming traditions. Sánchez has enlisted growers such as José Abdiel (above) in experiments with sustainable techniques. These include planting grasses as live barriers to reduce erosion and using organic fertilizers (above right), which are inexpensive and produced locally. |
Cerro Punta, population 7,000, lies at the gateway to a forest corridor between Barú Volcano National Park and La Amistad, an international park shared with Costa Rica that encompasses one of the largest tracts of undisturbed forest in one of the hemisphere’s most biologically diverse regions.
The corridor between the two parks enables ocelot, tapir and other animals to forage and travel back and forth. “A lot of animal species would be in big trouble if something happened to that land,” says George Hanily, who directs the Conservancy’s work in Panama.
But something is happening to that land. Although Cerro Punta’s 875 farms cover only about 12,300 acres, the town produces 80 percent of all the vegetables and tubers grown in Panama (population 3.2 million). Every patch of dirt—whether next to the market in town or on the steepest slope of the most remote hill—sprouts green lettuce heads, onion bulbs, potatoes, cauliflower, carrots, radishes, zucchini. The key is the mild climate and rich volcanic soil—10 to 13 meters deep—that creates fields so fertile there are at least four growing seasons a year.
Traditionally the crops are cultivated right on the steep mountainsides, sometimes at perilous angles, without the aid of terraces or other leveling techniques. This, of course, means heavy erosion during the rainy season. Cerro Punta, elevation 6,000 feet, sits at the headwaters of the Río Chiriquí Viejo, and what washes off the hillsides may end up in the drinking glasses of people in Bambito, El Volcán, and numerous other villages and towns downstream. The region’s farmers rely heavily on synthetic chemical pesticides and fertilizers, and, according to local doctor César Vega Miranda, hundreds of residents have been poisoned over the years (though not fatally) by pesticides such as paraquat.
Meanwhile, the erosion slowly forces farmers to clear more land for new fields, closer and closer to the parks and the corridor between them.
And so Sánchez has undertaken a formidable task: To reach out to radio stations, schools, fairs and the farmers themselves in a relentless effort to change decades-old customs and attitudes in order to save his hometown—from itself. It is a job that requires Sánchez to interact with hundreds, if not thousands, of people. One look at this reserved and studious Sunday school teacher, who still lives with his parents and helps run the family farm, and you could be forgiven for wondering if there was some mistake.
Sánchez is a familiar sight trekking village streets, toting his backpack and meeting with everyone from agronomists to church workers. He hands out posters to restaurants and shops and visits individual farmers to spread the gospel of sustainable agriculture.
All of these activities are part of the 125-page plan that he crafted at Rare’s university-based training center in Guadalajara, Mexico. At the center, Sánchez, who holds a degree in business from his local university, took classes in ecology, conservation, social marketing techniques and the metrics of survey taking. Then he returned home.
“It’s true; he is quiet,” says Rare’s program director, Megan Hill. “But Luis is from Cerro Punta. He is from a farming family. So he knows how to talk to these people.” And she is impressed by his work ethic and stamina: “He always exceeds whatever we ask of him.”
Sánchez commissioned his first quetzal costume from a local seamstress, but it came back looking more like a parrot. Not satisfied, he contacted a company in Guadalajara that makes theater props and, $600 later, received “Quelly,” complete with dainty foam beak and tufts of multihued synthetic fur meant to resemble feathers.
Sánchez scripted the puppet show. He printed posters, buttons and flyers, all featuring the quetzal. He commissioned a song and visited radio stations to make sure it was played. And he negotiated with the operators of the Feria de Altas Tierras, the annual fair that is the year’s social high point, to let him turn a portion of the fairgrounds into a botanical garden.
Sánchez puts in long hours, meeting people during the day and working late into the night at FUNDICCEP’s office. He says he has tapped reserves of energy he didn’t know he had.
“This is a gift God has given us,” he says of the mountains and forests, by way of explaining his dedication. “If we degrade the environment, we lose more than a beautiful area. We lose a great quality of life.”
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Nature picture credits: All Photos © HalBrindley.com
