Experiences leading to a greater emphasis on man in ethnobotanical studies

Abstract

Allow me to narrate a few facts and incidents related to my present and persistent interest in ethnobotany and the teaching of its subject matter and methodology in Latin America. I was born and raised in Tlaxcala, the smallest and perhaps the poorest state in central Mexico, the economy of which is based on agriculture under rain-fed temperate climatic conditions. In 1923 I entered the United States and initiated a period of learning that lasted until 1938 when I received my B.S. at the college of Agriculture, Cornell University, Ithaca, New York. This period included a 2-year course of practical agriculture at Farmingdale, Long Island, NY, and hitchhiking trips to the corn belt and, in 1932, to my home town, an experience that led me to decide to return to Mexico in spite of opportunities for work in the United States. I had an interest in plant physiology, but Mexico was not ready for that in 1938. I finally was hired by the Government Agricultural Bank to work with the government land grant communities in Tabasco under hot humid conditions supervising plantings of coconut, manihot, maize, rice, and sesame. I really began to learn agriculture. New domesticates, numerous forms of uses, and varied plantman interrelationships became part of my experience. But I think that the most valuable part of my harvest was a deeper understanding of the farmers and of their problems and the way they tried to solve them. At this time Mexico had no agricultural research organization. In 1941, five enormous swarms of locusts-one of these formed a cloud that darkened the skies and took almost an hour to pass-flew from the grass savannahs of Central America to the southern Mexican tropical lowlands, eating all the crops along the way. People gathered and made noises with pots, pans, and firecrackers in a futile attempt to drive the locusts away. The adult insects were eaten by turkeys and hogs, which barely made an impression on the immense population. The young, wingless locusts were driven into ditches and burned, but the plague took its own course. The scene reminded me of past events. The first was that described by Pearl Buck in her novel about Chinese farmers, The Good Earth; the second was the Catholic processions celebrated in the Middle West in an effort to break a long drought in the corn belt. In 1942, after more than 6 months of fasting due to the lack of a job, I was recommended and hired by the Office of Foreign Economic Administration as an agricultural technician initially to foster the local utilization of native oilbearing plant products and the production of castor bean. This job gave me the opportunity to travel throughout most of Mexico. First