When you're in a large market
in Guatemala, Ecuador or Peru beautiful colours and an endless array of
dizzying patterns surround you. People who paint their acid trips only wish
they could squeeze out this many swirling shades full of ancient meaning.
Here's another fact about such market scenes: you are always everybody's amigo or amiga. Venders call you their friend as they promise that their
crafts are better than those of their neighbours and that their prices are the
lowest. This can definitely be overwhelming in an entirely different way than
the colours. It also brings to the surface important, deep-rooted issues that
travellers to Central or South American countries seem to accept as-is, when
really these topics are worth more thought.
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| traditional market, Peru (photo by Lucie Bardos) |
Upon entering Guatemala
City's Mercado Central (Central
Market) life becomes suddenly chaotic as vendors can spot a foreigner a mile
away given that us gringos are not
numerous in this country's capital, which unfortunately has a more than a bit
of a reputation for being dangerous. If one was hoping that a polite smile and
a "just looking, thanks" would work, they would be sorely
disappointed. This comment would be met with: “What colour do you want?"
"We have this style over here and that one over there!" "Chose
one!" "Try it on!" "Come in!" "Ask!" - and
if you hang around a little longer in one stall it's "Well... which one do
you want?"
To me, everything on sale
was beautiful and I wished I could buy it all and felt bad for not being able
to do so as I sensed the vendors burning a dollar sign onto my forehead with
their eyes. I had walked into the market hoping to chat up some of the
merchants and talk about their artistic process and the traditions behind their
crafts, and maybe I would have been able to had I not succumbed to resentful shyness,
but I left disappointed. All they seemed to care about was convincing me to buy
something.
During my 5-month trip to
Central and South America this year, I too often felt like just a dollar sign.
Other people I have met who have travelled to poor countries seem to accept
this attitude, which is so prevalent in the locals, as just something you have
to deal with and they always seem perfectly nonchalant about it. "Oh yeah,
well everyone's just trying to get you to buy something. Just bargain hard and
you'll get what you're looking for super cheap," they advise. I could not
seem to master this breezy nonchalant attitude and most times that I went to a
market I got a distinctly icky feeling, no matter how much I tried not to think
about it.
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| traditional market, Ecuador (photo by Lucie Bardos) |
To begin to explain why I
felt so uncomfortable with the situation, I should first clarify what I meant
when I wrote "poor countries". Most Latin American countries are not
"poor countries" at all - they are extremely rich. They just have too
many poor people living in them due to histories of colonization, oppression,
lingering neo-colonialism and the resulting corrupt governments, which always
try their best to leave as little power as possible in the hands of the people.
This, on the whole, leaves large numbers of individuals unable to engage in
meaningful intrapersonal exchange as their major worry is feeding themselves
and their families and sustaining their small businesses. A lot of the priceless
indigenous wisdom present in these countries gets turned into a showy product
sold to tourists while the true knowledge gets lost as it loses its value in a
society of people just trying to make ends meet.
The thing is that from
previous research I already knew these facts before heading South, so why did
this "just buy something" attitude affect me so much? Upon further
thought, I understood; this was the barebones version of pretty much all
consumer-based capitalist societies. In the North we seem to be better at
disguising our "just buy something"-ness behind polite chitchat and
customer service, but underneath it's all the same. We may not all be
struggling to feed ourselves but we are nonetheless trapped in a system that
keeps us working (often in jobs we don't care for) in fear of losing what we
have or not moving "forward" economically or socially. I realized
that I too rarely find meaningful exchange of words, thoughts, and ideas here
in my hometown and that I was somehow naively hoping to receive a more
authentic experience in Latin America. I am not saying that I didn't find it,
or that I never find it here, I suppose I just thought it would be a lot more
widespread over there.
Something that drove the
point home for me in Latin America was seeing all of the incredible richness all
around me: gorgeous forests with an astounding array of medicines, food,
building supplies, and beauty; huge sparkling lakes; acres of unused land (or
used only for dumping); this is not to mention a vast array of metals and
minerals currently being exploited largely by foreign corporations. As a
Permaculture[1]
enthusiast, I could envision these resources being harnessed sustainably, with
more than enough for everyone, but as the market vendors' attitudes and my other
observations showed, I could tell that the daily grind and the marginalization
of poor and indigenous people was keeping many of them unable to see to these
kinds of possibilities. It was precisely this unrealized potential for
happiness that was at the heart of my icky feeling. I wanted to be people's amiga. But that was impossible to do
when our whole instance of communication was based on money.
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| Seeds... of Germination... Or Termination book cover |
On that note, despite all
of the ickiness, I saw several local projects going ahead that made me believe
that this hope is not unfounded. One example is Ecuador's Rio Muchacho Organic
Farm[3] whose
inhabitants have turned an 11 hectare plot of land into a gorgeous
self-sustaining haven for travellers and locals alike who are tired of selling
under pressure or being under pressure to buy. Food, building materials, and art
and craft supplies are grown, harvested, utilized and shared on-site. There is a small gift shop at the farm but there
is no one pressuring you to buy and if you do
want to purchase an item, you have to ask one of the farm staff or volunteers
to come carry out the transaction. Furthermore, after a tour of the farm you
have already spent hours learning about the cultural significance of the items,
how they are made, and what is used to the make them. Consequently, purchasing
something acquires a deeper meaning in which both customer and seller benefit
to a much larger extent than a simple barter situation at a market.
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| Rio Muchacho Organic Farm, Ecuador (photo by Lucie Bardos) |
I feel that if
initiatives like this become more widespread and people begin to participate in
harvesting the richness that is around them in a way that benefits the land and
people on and around it, then the markets of the future may be places where
travellers can stop for a chat, a little local knowledge and an exchange of
goods or stories. They will also become places one may walk away from having
made some true amigos.
[1] Permaculture
is a term that was coined by Bill Mollison and David Holmgren in the 1980's. It
refers to a system of agriculture and of living in general that is based on
natural systems and produces little to zero waste while maximizing yield and
benefits to people and the land. There is a wide array of literature about the
topic available, such as "Permaculture A Designer's Manual" by Bill
Mollison and "Gaia's Garden" by Toby Hemenway.
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