In La Ramada

We travelled to La Ramada to visit César Burga, rural coordinator of his Bibliotecas Rurales, to greet and converse with those who frequent his library.

The rocky, at times muddy, road opened on one side to an abyss which extended for over half a kilometer. On our arrival we passed almost immediately to the small hamlet of Corralcucho where doña Rosa, César’s mother and doña Elidia, her daughter, presented us with delicious tamales – made fresh with the corn from their field.

As we rested observing the idyllic scene in which they live, we were amused by the bravery of a small chicken who insisted on bothering a chicken of bigger stature. For his audacity he was left practically featherless but he was not to be deterred. He showed us that attitude is half the battle.

That night the meeting in César’s home started as any good meeting does–  chewing coca leaves, cultivated en small farms and free of toxins, a careful practice that is becoming sadly less common as pressure from the big pharmaceuticals to flood crops with pesticides is taking effect. The attraction of fast, easy production at times overpowers the knowledge that natural remedies and organic production, which has persevered for many centuries, is the only secure method of ensuring the survival of the art of agriculture and our food sovereignty in the face of attempted domination by the system.

This discussion leads us to the similar theme of tobacco, and how the cigarettes that now pervade the market are full of poisons and purposefully contain addictive properties. The locals recall a time when the production and preparation of wild tobacco was a common practice in their community – without toxins and full of the natural beneficial properties of the plant. The animated discussion left us with a desire to learn more, and the glint in Alfredo’s eye told us that another book had begun to write itself.

In response to an invitation from the farmers, Alfredo explained more about the concept of Bibliotecas Rurales – i.e. the constant movement of books as opposed to their repose in stagnant spaces, and the importance of the book in rural areas. He spoke of how we are losing our connection with our ancestors and with our community: “Time betrays the memory”, he told us, and he recalled an appropriate saying: “He who doesn’t remember his past, is destined to trip up on the same rock ”.

“We have so much to learn from our ancestors – they created the seeds that we now grow. How can we rebuild the bridge and reconnect with our roots? We have two sources to help us”, Alfredo explains: “We have the word of our elders - but what if we can’t remember everything they say? Then that is why we have our books. Using the book as a tool we can have written the memories, the knowledge, and the wisdom”.

“However, we are not indulging in nostalgia,” Alfredo clarifies: “The books that collect the knowledge of our elders aren’t books to make us remember how things were, but how things should be”.

The ball of coca sweetened as if to say that it too was in agreement. 

Lynda Sullivan