Eco Education in Oaxaca

We all want a better world. Yet in the face of so much that is wrong, from wholesale environmental devestation to the unsustainable practices that seem neccessary just to keep up, the hardest step is often knowing just where to start.

Robert Fredericks, a self described "itinerant ecologist," says the best place, the only place to begin is "right where you are."

This New Jersey transplant to Mexico's Oaxaca State is the "State Coordinator for Ecology," for the Association of Parents and Families--roughly equivalent to the PTA in the US.

His work takes him to rural schools in every isolated corner of Oaxaca's geographic and ethnic diversity. Operating on a frayed shoestring of a budget, often with no budget at all, he is forced, like the campesinos with whom he works, to make the most of every resource, often in the face of profound difficulties.

Oaxaca is the second poorest of Mexico's 31 states (Only neighboring Chiapas is poorer). With 17 distinct ethnic groups, each with their own language (and a multitude of dailects) in addition to the dominant mestizo culture, Oaxaca is one of the most culturally diverse locations on the planet. With geography ranging from the tropical lowlands of the Isthmus of Tehuantepec to the cloud forests of the towering Sierra Juarez it is one of the most geographically diverse states as well, with the flora and fauna to prove it.

A decade working in Oaxaca has given Fredericks a close up view of the environmental catastrophe that is occurring one tree, one stream, one overworked plot of land at a time. At the same time he has seen how, by working one by one, home by home and one day at a time we can begin to reclaim and replant what has been lost and destroyed.

As he tells his students, "You don't have to let your land get poorer and poorer. Every day do a little something. You'll see the results tomorrow and the next day and next year." It may sound oversimplistic to those of us accustomed to crash programs and sweeeping initiatives but at the root he says it is a way of affirming that the destruction will go "this far and no more."

It is also very practical. While the fruits of careless destruction often occur unnoticed in our insulated and prosperous society, in the rural third world, the feedback is much more immediate and palpable.

The destruction of traditional controls over land use and the imposition of centralized, often carelessly applied modernizations have contributed to an environmental crisis that threatens not only Oaxaca, but all of Mexico and the third world. In a mountain farming village, erosion that devestates the already tenous fields is a life or death situation, not an "environmental crisis," on the six o'clock news.

As an foreiegner, Fredericks is forced to accept some things as they are, and work within those constraints. His efforts are an example of how, despite politics and the attendant mismanagement, neglect and corruption, we can make a real difference in the way things are.

He says that he is always conscious of being an outsider. Often at first "there's resistance," he says. "I try to keep to the background. And tell them, this is your project." Rather than insisting that "this is what we'll do and we're going to do it right over there," he begins by asking, "take me to where it us that you have the most concern." After that he gives them some suggestions but keeps asking, "is this what you want to do?" He says this is a key point in working on a local level anywhere in the world. And indicates that ignoring this key point is why so many ambitious development and assistance projects fail.

So many times he says the authorities "aren't operating with the complete social or cultural picture." Nor he suggests, with the proper amount of respect for the residents' understanding of their own region. As an example Fredericks recounted the story of a community that asked for a dam to improve their irrigation system. The community elders showed the engineers where they wanted the dam built but their suggestions were brushed aside. The elders insisted that the dam wouldn't work where the engineers were building it. Shortly after it was completed, the dam filled with sand and became useless. Years later, a second dam was built where the elders had insisted all along, and this one works.

Fredericks is interested in what people need and what they can do themselves. Often this comes down to basics, like clean water. Illustrating how simple it can be, he mentioned one village where people and cows share the same spring. He is working with the villagers to construct simple barricades to keep the animals away from the source, and some basic plumbing to provide the animals with water while keeping the spring clean. Simple tools and simple fixes that can make a world of difference to the health of a village.

His work is centered in the schools, meaning his projects reach into the very heart of the community. He begins, he says, "with a plant and a list of questions." He breaks the students into groups, giving each group a young plant that he has started from seed on his patio in Oaxaca city. "How do you think this plant is grown, from a seed or from a cutting? Where in your community do you think plants like this grow?"

After they've explored the plants he helps the class find a good place to plant them, ideally somewhere near the school where they can care for them and watch them grow.

He says the questions have a purpose beyond educating the students about the plants' specifics. These sessions generally include students from a central village and more remote hamlets nearby. Invariably, "those who have walked the farthest know the most about the plants." Giving the more isolated students a chance to demonstrate their knowledge helps break down the prejudices and rivalries that exist - even among people who live less than a day's walk apart.

He thinks this prejudice has gotten worse with the advent of highways. "Most of the campesinos in remote areas have never visited the neighboring villages," he says. "And for those who have, it was usually a long time ago." He calls this a "deterioration," of the traditional life. Where once people kept up regular contact between villages, because they had to, nowadays they take the highway to the main towns. The fabric of life is eroded.

As a hint of what that fabric of life might have been like he describes the precision with which the precolumbian cities were built. Aligned within inches over scores of miles, the important buildings of distant cities were aligned with each other to mirror the design of the night sky and the progression of the calendar.

What this indicates, says Robert, is that "they looked into the sky and seeing the harmonious movement decided that, if they wanted to create a harmonious society they should build those proportions and movements into their landscape."

He believes that, "especially among the Maya," this system was "every bit as developed as the Chinese concept of Feng Shui." Apart from any mystical sense, it encapsulated the society's relationship with the universe, with themselves and the natural environment. But "this whole view was decapitated," with the European conquest.

So much so that today, Fredericks, an outsider is teaching campesinos about ecology. Through his lessons he hopes to invigorate the young people's pride in their place, and their ability to care for it.

But he says the old knowledge hasn't disappeared entirely, even if many people, cognizant of "scientific," belief are "embarrassed to admit it."

In the villages there are still "those who know," says Fredericks. Those who know how to read the patterns, perhaps even converse with the spirits of place. "And everyone in the village knows who they are." If a person is having trouble with his farm he might go to one of the wise ones. "The traditional way is to bring an offering, tobacco or mezcal or something else," and they sit and talk, drink mezcal before the visitor asks for help or advice. "The wise person might say that something bad happened in this place, if there was a murder for example, the earth remembers that just as, if something good happens in a place the earth remembers that as well." Once identified steps are taken to purify the land, clean out the bad energies.

Fredericks says he encourages his indigenous friends not to be embarrassed by their traditions. "I grew up on a farm and we did certain things, like pruning during the waning moon and other things, like planting, during the waxing moon." A rhythm he says corresponds exactly to the traditions of Mexico's indigenous farmers. "I tell my friends that just because the experts in agricultural schools haven't been able to analyze it and prove every permutation doesn't mean that these practices of the farmers who have kept humanity alive for thousands of years are wrong."

Indeed, the thousands of years primitive farming methods sustained and nourished civilization, compared to the mere decades that modern methods has taken to drive the system into near collapse indicate that there is something to these seemingly irrational methods--by discouraging destructive practices if nothing else.

Fredericks focuses on the practical, and doable in his educational work. Beginning with plants, he helps the students construct gardens, prepare compost and introduces methods of active environmental stewardship. Combating erosion he says, can be just as simple as constructing barriers to catch the soil when eroded gullies first appear.

Sometimes the problems are more intractable, like keeping the water clean in a place where sewage treatment is virtually unknown.

Whatever the issue, Fredericks, or "Professor Colibri" (Hummingbird), as he is known, is chewing on an idea. He is currently mulling over some ideas around eco-tourism and environmentally friendly industry.

In a civilization seemingly at war with itself and with the planet, Robert Fredericks is somewhere in the high valleys of Oaxaca, planting the seeds of a different world, one by one.