My community, Rio Arriba County in Northern New Mexico, produces more farmers than any other county in New Mexico. Ninety percent of our farms are under 50 acres. Incomes are well below poverty.
My county is listed, in the Robert Wood Johnson County Health Rankings as a food desert. Most of the zipcodes in Rio Arriba, which is roughly the same size as Massachusetts, have no grocery stores.
That's why we've formed a food council.
A food council is a way to bring the people who need food to the table to talk with people who produce food.
In most communities, farmers are forced to sell to huge corporations, who then ship the food to a grocery store far, far, away. Most of this food is never made available to zipcodes hidden behind America's race curtain. Detroit, for example, had no grocery store at all for many years. In Albuquerque, people who live in low-income Hispanic neighborhoods live 25 fewer years than people who live in high-income white neighborhoods. Lack of access to wholesome, nutritious food is one of the reasons.
Food Councils were created to end problems like this one:
Real Hunger: Momi from Las Vegas:
The biggest challenge I have faced in attempting to build our food council is overcoming distrust. In Rio Arriba, most of our producers are Hispanics who have lived in the area since the 17th century. They rely on acequias, an irrigation system invented by the Moors, and use traditional dry land farming techniques invented by Native Americans before Europeans had set foot in the Americas. They speak 16th century Castillian.
Most of the concerned consumers at our proverbial table are health care providers. Many are Anglo. They are university educated and their first language is data.
It is hard to get the two groups to listen to one another. After eighteen months of false starts, I decided to take a risk. I hired an individual I have worked with for years to develop a needs assessment using the Strategic Prevention Framework, a planning model favored by preventionists in the health care field. It relies on data.
It was time to hold our big community meeting. Only six people showed up. They were all health care providers.
"Maybe we should cancel this," said Sarah, the council coordinator. "We won't have adequate input at all. And there aren't any farmers here."
"Nope," I told her. "We're going to send out our needs assessment to everyone and ask them to comment."
"But they'll all be angry," she objected.
"Of course they will," I answered. "They'll tell us all the reasons they think our assessment is stupid. We'll add it all to the assessment."
"Are you sure?" she asked again.
"No," I replied. "But I don't have any other ideas."
Stephen giggled. We'd been through this before. "You're gonna have a fun meeting with the County Commissioners in a few weeks," he warned.
Three weeks later, I found myself sitting in the hot seat. An irate commissioner sat across the table from me flanked by hostile farmers. "You have absolutely no producer input in this document," he accused me angrily.
I didn't answer.
"I don't see why we have to go out and collect all this data," complained the farmer. "I can name six projects we can work on right now!" He proceeded to name six projects.
"Those are great projects!" I agreed. "But they all cost at least $250,000. In order to get a grant that size, you have to engage a coalition of about 20 or 25 people with competing agendas in a planning effort for at least a year. They all have to agree to stick with the same project. How are you going to get them to agree to support you that long?"
I turned to the Commissioner. "How are you going to keep political opponents from fomenting trouble by saying that you just picked this project to help out your friends?"
He thought about it for a few minutes. "You have a month," he told me. "Send Sarah to the Farmer's Market. Have her get input from the growers there. I'll make sure they don't boycott you."
So Sarah went to the Farmer's Market and asked the growers what we could do to help them. The commissioner attended the next meeting, farmers in tow. Sarah reported on what she had heard.
The commissioner held the needs assessment in his hand. "This is a great document," he said. "There is much more feedback from producers. You're getting a lot done. And I'm so glad to see consumers and producers sitting at one table. We have a lot in common. I think that maybe, by working together, we can find a way to create a local market for local food. Great job!"
Sarah pulled me aside after the meeting. "I don't understand," she told me. "It was the same document. What's the difference?"
I thought about it. "I'm not sure," I told her. "I think the difference is that this time, when he read the assessment, he trusted us."
I still have no idea whether we can end hunger in my community. But I do believe that when we talk to one another, we at least have a fighting chance!
1 in 6:
1 in 6 adults. 1 in 4 children. In America. Please join us this weekend.
All times Eastern!
Saturday, Oct 15:
9:00a -- noweasels
12:00p -- teacherken
3:00p -- TheFatLadySings
6:00p -- Timroff
9:00p -- JayinPortland
Owls -- blue jersey mom
Sunday, Oct 16
9:00a -- rb137
12:00p -- JanF
4:00p -- Aji
5:00p -- Patric Juillet
7:00p -- Chacounne
10:00p -- boatsie