Chapter 1.
In the fields of our milpa
“Abre tus ojos. ¿qué ves?”
Open your eyes, what do you see?
When we dream, we return to the land of our childhood. The fields of milpa. We are running, playing, hiding amongst the towering stalks of maize- corn. Brushing up against the tender bounty of frijoles-bean vines climbing up the stalks to kiss the sun. The spirit of our playful bare footsteps feeds the ground-running calabaza- squash to sprawl out and embrace the cool and nourishing soil.
We fall to the ground in the fields, exhausted from playing and look up to witness the sun resting behind softening clouds with a gentle gray color consuming the sky. Drops of water fall and give life to the dry and thirsty milpa and our resting bodies. The mustard colored soil loosens from the moisture of rain and releases an aroma so vivid, so soothing, that when we breathe it in it is forever imprinted in our souls , our center, Anahuac.
These are our purest memories, those that fill us with peace and happiness. It is in our dreams and our sharing of stories where we relive our essence, this center of who we are. And at our center is the milpa, the three sisters. For those of us who live thousands of miles from our home of origin now, we know that when it is our time to die we ask for our bodies to return to this same earth where we hold these memories, where we lived as one with the milpa, with all of life.
We are neither here nor there though. We are still dreaming. What must we do to reawaken the spirit of the milpa in our hearts? To truly live once more.
In our blood is an inexplicable interconnectedness to the milpa, to nuestras semillas nativas- our native seeds, our native maize. It is shared in our creation stories that we come from the maize, it is our origin as indigenous peoples. As the first people of this continent we were born together with our first food. Maize is intrinsic to our daily life, traditional knowledge, diet, spirituality and relationship with Mother Earth and the world.
IN THE FIELDS OF MILPA
Listen to the story of Angela Ramírez Morales, an indigenous Mixtec woman in the Anahuac community.
We must return to our seeds.
We must remember we are the seeds.
We hold our maiz nativo-native corn in our hands. We peel back the husk of each,
and are enchanted by the beauty, the rarity of each as diverse as the next one.
We are the red corn, we are Nahua.
We are the green corn, we are Maya.
We are the white corn, we are Zapotec.
We are the purple corn, we are Mixtec.
We are the yellow corn, we are Totzil.
We are the black corn, we are Purepecha…
IN THE FIELDS OF MILPA
Listen to the story of Luisa Flores Morales, an indigenous Mixtec woman in the Anahuac community.
As indigenous communities, we are like the corn. Each variety is as diverse and rich as the next.
Yet, why have we forgotten who we are? Why must we remember to leave behind our beautiful, diverse seeds of maize for the future generations to remember who they are?
IN THE FIELDS OF MILPA
Listen to the story of Cristina Arellanez Vasquez, an indigenous Zapotec woman in the Anahuac community