Criollo corn is under attack in Oaxaca. Hand made criollo corn tortillas are the prize find for any foreign foodie and for all local Oaxacans. Industrial corn tortillas taste like sandpaper. This reads like a detective novel in which Monsanto’s Washington-based communications company uses “phantom” or fake sources to derail a biologist’s career because he was demonstrating that genetically modified corn has indeed infested criollo corn fields. In other words, the industrialists are fighting natural corn from within in order to make farmers dependent upon their products.
Phantoms in the machine: GM corn spreads to Mexico
MARIE-MONIQUE ROBIN
July 3, 2010
I LANDED in Oaxaca, Mexico, in October 2006. Nestled in the heart of a lush landscape of green mountains, the city is considered one of the jewels of the country’s tourist industry. I was here, however, to investigate contaminated corn.
On November 29, 2001, the scientific journal Nature had published a study that created a stir and drew heavy fire from the St Louis headquarters of North American multinational agricultural corporation Monsanto – manufacturer of the world’s best-selling herbicide, Roundup, and the world’s leading producer of GMOs (genetically modified organisms). Signed by David Quist and Ignacio Chapela, two biologists at the University of California, Berkeley, it found that criollo (traditional) corn in Oaxaca had been contaminated by Roundup Ready and Bt genes. (Bacillus thuringiensis is a bacterium that produces a protein toxic to some insects. The gene inside the bacterium – the Bt gene – is added to seeds such as corn to create genetically modified crops.)
The news was particularly surprising because in 1998 Mexico had declared a moratorium on transgenic corn crops in order to preserve the extraordinary biodiversity of the plant, whose genetic cradle was Mexico. Grown since at least 5000BC, corn was the basic food for the Maya and Aztec peoples, who worshiped it as a sacred plant.
Travelling around the indigenous communities of Oaxaca, I encountered everywhere women drying magnificent ears of corn coloured pale yellow, white, red, violet, black, or an astonishing midnight blue. ”In the Oaxaca region alone, we have more than 150 local varieties,” said Secundino, a Zapotec Indian who was harvesting white corn by hand. ”This variety, for example, is excellent for making tortillas. Look at this ear: it has a very good size and fine kernels, so I’ll save it to plant next year.”
”You never buy seeds from outside?”
”No. When I have a problem, I exchange with a neighbour: I give him ears for him to eat and he gives me seeds. It’s old-fashioned barter.”
”Do you always make tortillas with local corn?”
”Yes, always,” he said with a smile. ”It’s more nourishing, because it’s of much better quality than industrial corn. Besides, it’s healthier, because we farm without chemical products.”
”Industrial corn” means the 6 million tonnes of corn that flood in every year from the United States, 40 per cent of which is transgenic (modified by the introduction of genetic material from another species).
”Look,” said Secundino, holding out in his hand like a gift a magnificent violet ear. ”This corn was my ancestors’ favourite.”
”It existed before the Spanish conquest?”
”Yes, and now there is another conquest.”
”What’s the new conquest?”
”The transgenic conquest, which wants to destroy our traditional corn so industrial corn can dominate. If that happens, we will become dependent on multinational corporations for our seeds. And we will be forced to buy their fertilisers and their insecticides, because otherwise their corn won’t grow. Unlike ours, which grows very well without chemical products.”
IGNACIO Chapela, one of the authors of the Nature study, agreed to meet me at Sproul Plaza on the Berkeley campus. ”Small Mexican farmers,” he said ”are very conscious of the stakes raised by transgenic contamination, because corn is not just their basic food but a cultural symbol.”
It was an October Sunday in 2006, and the huge campus was deserted. Only a police car drifted by like a damned soul. ”That’s for me,” said Chapela. ”I’ve been closely watched since this affair started, especially when there’s a camera.” When I looked incredulous, he went on: ”You want proof? Come with me.” We drove to the top of a hill overlooking San Francisco Bay. As we walked towards the lookout point, we saw the same police car, parked conspicuously at the side of the road.
”How did you find out that Mexican corn was contaminated?” I asked, rather disturbed. Read More
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