Sustainable Peoples Blog 13
Airbus A319- 37,000 ft above Antofagasta
6/22/08
6:00pm
Sometimes you have to back up from an experience to see it more clearly. Sadly, the view back on my time in
San Pedro appears no simpler from 37,000ft. San Pedro de Atacama sits squarely in one of the harshest and most beautiful places on earth. They get less rain than Death Valley, California, at a lung-aching 10,000 ft above sea level. I hoped that there, I would observe human life, stripped of all it’s garnish. Then, I could see what it is to be human, and how that condition might in the future support a more sustainable way of living. I suppose, to paraphrase a writer far greater than I, I hoped to observe the marrow of life, even if I couldn’t breathe deep at altitude. What I found was a small town, in the grips of an identity crisis, like a long-time blue-collar worker turned lottery winner.
Marcella and I arrived, checked into our pleasant little hostel, and nearly Marcela was struck by the changes that had come to San Pedro. She had been there seven years earlier, at the town had grown well beyond the
one dirt street it used to occupy. The landscape was similar, but now there were a great many small restaurants, craft shops, hostels and bars- things you typically find a this concentration only in touristy areas. This place had changed, according to Marcela. I only hoped we could still find what we came for.
On the bus ride to town from the airport in Calama (a solid 2 hour drive over a half-finished road), we had talked to our driver about the best way to get around. He connected us with a man who became our guide, and ultimately, the source of my great conflict about San Pedro.
So, promptly at 10 the next morning, Wilson Flores entered our lives in a white, lifted, Daewoo sedan. Wilson was abut 40, tall and lean, with dark skin and shoulder-length black hair, wearing slacks and a tracksuit top that was so clean it must have been new. It occurred to me that an outfit this clean in a place where the air is so laden with fine tan dust must have been a serious effort. Marcela and I were an occasion for Wilson, an occasion for him to make more money in a few days than he might otherwise in a month. First world guilt welled up in my throat, but all that I let pass was the great respect and gratitude I felt for him and his assistance.
Our first stop with Wilson was his home. I wanted to learn about farming in the world’s driest place, and Wilson lived on a plot of land that had been farmed by his father’s fathers for at least 5 generations.
Wilson thought his family had lived there longer, but was unsure, and only knew that his ancestors had lived in the area for thousands of years. Surely, this was whom I had come to learn from.
At his home, or more accurately, a piece of land with two small adobe and wood dwellings on which he and 6 members of his family lived, we were seated with his father to first talk about the life of a farmer here, and the process of bringing life to a desert.
His father, like many of the men in the family, had at one time worked in the copper mines here. He was a slim, sturdy man, about my height. His hands showed the wear of a lifetime of labor on and under the earth. He talked about farming in the desert, and how things used to be. We followed him past dry irrigation canals, about as wide and deep as a bankers box. He said that not only did they used to be full of water year-round, but these canals were just a modern shadow of the water that used to flow there- wide and deep enough to swim in, he said. The water was gone from these small canals for most of the year now because the town, with its explosion of tourism, was using more than ever.
He felt that tourism was a poor way forward for his community, because it really only benefitted the people who were already rich enough to take advantage of it- those who could run tours, start a hostel or a restaurant. He said he didn’t know what the future held for him and his family, but it was clear that he was living with a sort of resigned anxiety about the future of his way of life.
We said goodbye to Wilson’s family, and hopped back into his car for a visit and lunch with a man we’d come to know as Don Guillermo.
Don (a masculine title of respect) Guillermo (his first name) greeted us at the entrance of his simple, comfortable home/restaurant. We were here for lunch, but also to talk about farming and the native population. Don Guillermo also spent the first part of his life in the copper mines, before saving enough to open this restaurant and farm. He grows most of the animals and vegetables that the restaurant prepares, ad he does so with minimal water. He sowed us his small vegetable patches, which he strategically placed atop well –watered land, so that he only has to apply extra water less than once a month.
His farm was an excellent model for sustainability in a place with little water, but what was most interesting was his explanation of how water, the land and the native people coexist I this area. He feels that the main problem with modern growth is that most people don’t feel a sense of connection or belonging to the land. He said his ancestors had lived in this area for thousands of years, and there is still a connection between the people ad the land. He felt that the governments have a difficult time understanding that, so when growth happens, it happens on a scale beyond what the natives would be comfortable with, because they know what the land will sustain.
I felt like this idea was difficult to translate. How do you teach a modern, westernized society to build only
what the land will take? Don Guillermo seemed to think the solution was in planning- how the government surveys for resources, and then sets up its development plan. There might be something to this, especially in a region that is so constrained by one resource. Maybe there should be new criteria for growth plans. Criteria that take into account what is naturally feasible for a region, and factor in the additional costs of surpassing a level of development that goes beyond that natural equilibrium. For Atacama, that would include lots of water analysis, but it could also include variables for arable (farmable) land, natural (green) power generation potential, and even the ability of the area to supply building materials for the proposed development. This type of pre-planning may not act as a perfect substitute for a native connection to the land, bt it may produce nearly the same result in terms of sustainable growth and respect for the available resources.
Don Guillermo shared his hospitality, his food and his family with us, and I was grateful for having had such wisdom shared so openly. We said goodbye, and headed back toward San Pedro to shoot some video and still mages of the surrounding area.
On the way back, we got to talking with Wilson about his family, and future plans. Wilson has worked in the mines, he had farmed the land, but he also felt that the way to more prosperity for himself and his family was to take advantage of the tourist growth in the region. His plan was to save enough money to fix the 4 cars he had collected, and then sell them in order to purchase a single, more reliable van. He hoped to use the van to start tours of the area, and eventually open a hostel on his farmland.
The drive to better one’s circumstances in the most efficient way is part of the human condition, not just a part of the American dream. Even if Wilson was turning his back on the life that had sustained his forbearers for generations, I couldn’t blame him for seeking prosperity. It is Wilson then who presented me with the biggest challenge. How do you ask someone to forgo the most basic levels of personal security in order to preserve the sustainability of a place or people?
The answer is that you cant. I mean, you could ASK, but I think any policy that doesn’t take into account the human drive to be more secure and prosperous than before is denying the true nature of the people it means to direct. The solution then is to come up with policies that provide avenues for development, while leading to a sustainable path. Indeed good policy can harness that human drive as an engine for change. People presented with opportunity for sustainable development, when no opportunity for development existed before, will chose the sustainable option.
I’m not positive what those policies or ideals will look like exactly, as they will surely vary from situation to situation. Wilson’s reality was a big part of the puzzle though. The real solutions I’m looking for won’t be complete without it.
