A video by the Guardian’s Felicity Lawrence, in whose book Not On The Label I first read about El Ejido, on migrant farm workers in southern Spain. Quite good, though I have some concerns about her poking around the interiors of people’s homes without their permission (or that’s how the edit makes it appear.) She also glosses over the work that Cherif, and Spitou do with the Sindicato de Obreros del Campo, which I feel does the organizing SOC undertakes for farm workers a disservice. Certainly the workers are in a bad spot, and are victims of exploitation and racism (though the report doesn’t really touch on the racism either) but there is a strong movement to demand worker rights, which SOC is leading, but that migrants are helping to move forward.

Those details aside it’s moving to see the word slavery used, both by Felicity and Spitou. There’s really no other word to describe the situation in Almeria. Of course there was an immediate response from farm owners and big agribusiness in Almeria, but the conditions that the majority of the workers live in can’t be denied.

Okay, things are starting to get rolling around here. One of my goals for this site is to make sure it stays focused on the people that I’m working with, as well as to highlight folks that somehow help inform my thinking, or move me with the work they are involved in. So, with that in mind I’d like to present an interview I just did with Orren Fox of Happy Chickens Lay Healthy Eggs. Orren is 13, lives in Massachusetts, and is happily raising a flock of chickens, some ducks, and as of recently, a whole lot of bees. I first came across Orren’s blog a couple years ago and it’s been a regular read of mine ever since. He’s always up to something interesting, and he’s super enthusiastic about everything he does. Invariably I learn something new every time I visit his blog, and I’m psyched to have him be a part of this site.

To begin can you tell me the story of how you started raising chickens?

I get asked this a lot. I wish I had a really smart, funny answer for that. I don’t. I visited a farm one day with my babysitter and I guess I just got up the next morning and was obsessed with chickens. Some people love drums, racecars, or soccer, I’m naturally interested in chickens. When I figured that out my parents took me to the library and checked out all the books we could find on chickens and then I started to volunteer at a local farm that had about 50 hens. After having worked at the farm for about a year, Julie who owns the farm asked if I wanted to get my own chicks. It was one of the happiest days of my life. I went to the local feed store and picked out 12 little baby hens. They lived in our kitchen for several weeks until they were old enough to be in the colder barn. I have been interested in them ever since. That was almost three years ago when I was nine.

From the photos on your website your birds are amazingly beautiful. How many chickens do you have now, and which breeds?

I have 24 chickens and four ducks.

• Brahmas
• Polish
• Japanese
• Belgian D’anvers
• Hamburg
• Cochins
• Call Ducks
• Mandarin Duck

To name a few!

Are they free-range? Again from your blog it seems like they lead pretty good lives. How do you have things set up?

I’m not really sure what the definition of free-range is. My hens are not “Pastured”, meaning they aren’t out in a pasture all day. It is too dangerous. There are many foxes and hawks who all would try and eat the hens. They wouldn’t be safe unless I was there watching them. I go to the barn after school everyday. It is about a mile from my house. I let the girls out everyday because I can watch them.

All my birds have tons of space. One coop has both indoor and outdoor runs. The other hens are in the barn. The coops are really spacious with perches, areas to dust bathe and the barn itself has a clear roof so they have natural light. A hen needs 16 hours of light to produce eggs. All my hens have that. I am really focused on making sure the hens are happy. You might ask how I know? I just do.

I’ve met a lot of people who after starting to raise chickens develop a very deep respect for their flock, talk about how the birds have real personalities (well, they’re not people, so maybe chickenalities?) and soon they develop a real admiration for chickens in general. Can you relate to that? What have your chickens taught you?

I have tons of respect for them. They are smart. Really smart. They do have chickenalities. My Paprika is bossy, Cheesecake is sweet, Alice is chatty, Plum is brave, Francisco was super cool, and Sugar and Lola are mellow. Why wouldn’t they all be different? We are all different. We aren’t all the same because we are all people. They are awesome. I have to say I kind of know what they are saying too. Here is a poem my mom found for me. It is all really true. Mostly I’ve learned responsibility, because even when I am tired and have too much homework I have to care for my hens.

All I Need To Know I Learned From My Chickens

Wake up early, stay busy
Rest when you need to, but always stay alert
Visit your favorite places every day
Scratch out a living
Routine is good
Plump is good
Don’t ponder your purpose in life – your brain is too small
Accept the pecking order and know you enemies
Weed your garden
Look after your children
Sit on them if necessary
Take them for walks, show them the little things and talk constantly
Make a nice nest – share it with friends
Brag on your accomplishments
Protect your nest egg
Test your wings once in a while
Squawk when necessary
As you age, demand respect
Leave a little something for those who care about you
Chase butterflies

By Michaele Oleson

Can you explain what a pecking order is? Do your chickens have a boss?

Pecking order is no joke. My hen Blueberry almost died because of it. In fact the vet said we should put her down because she was so beat up. But I wasn’t willing to do this. I stayed with her and made sure she was ok. I had to really help her for about two weeks, we built her own coop. She has her own little apartment next to the other hens. I know many people can’t do this, but that is what I did. Pecking order is a way for the hens to keep order. It is quite brutal, but I think many species do this. My boss is Paprika the light Brahma.

On your site you mention that you’re a committed vegetarian. What brought you to that choice? Was it before, or after you started raising chickens?

It was after raising chickens and seeing how almost all the chickens are raised. I think you can taste the torture. I ask people to consider only buying chickens from a local farmer, where you know how the hens were raised. I’m not willing to support Factory Farming. I think everyone should watch the movies Food, Inc, and FRESH. The basic message from Food, Inc. is that we get to vote three times a day for the kind of food we want. So if you care how animals are raised then find a place that cares for the animals while they are being raised and when they are slaughtered. Pay attention.

I just read that in the past, in China, if someone was sick, or couldn’t attend a wedding that they would sometimes send a chicken in their place, that’s how important chickens were to their culture. Have you ever sent one of your birds to a family gathering you didn’t really feel like going to?

HA! No not yet. But I may have to now. I can just imagine Paprika, and Blueberry marching into a family event. Funny.

What are your thoughts on industrial chicken farms like those seen in Food Inc?

Unethical. It isn’t right. Most people think this if you ask them, but most people don’t really want to think about it. Many people have said “I don’t want to watch Food, Inc. because I know I won’t want to eat chicken, eggs or beef, but I love chicken, eggs or beef” …. interesting.

Speaking of business, do you sell your eggs? How many do you get a day? How do they compare to eggs from the supermarket?

I do sell them and give them away. Right now I am getting about one dozen a day. They don’t compare to the eggs in the supermarket. Those eggs aren’t eggs.

And what about those blue eggs? What kind of chickens lay blue eggs?

Aren’t they beautiful? Each breed of chickens lays eggs of a specific color. Eggs may be white, light brown, dark brown, or speckled. Americanas and Auracanas lay blue / blue green eggs. Blue eggs come from chickens that produce a coloring substance inside their bodies called oocyanin. These eggs are blue throughout the shell, inside and outside, and the color can’t be rubbed off.

I see you’ve started raising bees now too, congratulations. (I love that photo of all those bees on your dining room table; I can see you have a very understanding mother.) Why bees? What got you interested in them?

Bees are awesome. I love honey. I am not afraid of bees. I thought the smoker and suit were cool. My mom and I went to Bee School this winter, The Essex County Bee School. I am also interested in Colony Collapse Disorder. Did you know that every third bite of food comes from the pollination by bees? Every Third BITE!

Seems to me you’re really focused on informing people about what you’re doing, i.e. you keep your blog updated regularly, you have a big active community on twitter, attend meetups, you speak at schools. To me there’s a really nice mix of politics and personal, which feels very natural, very compelling. Do you consider yourself an advocate for things like: animal rights, young farmers, vegetarianism, healthy living, etc? How important for you is it to get the word out?

Not at all. I just love it. Yes I want to share the info I have and want all the chickens to be treated better. I guess it is just who I am. Some kids like soccer, some kids like piano, I like chickens and bees.

What do your friends think of all of this?

I think they used to think it was cool. Maybe not as much now. Most kids are into other things. But I did start a Farm Club at school and it was the first to fill up.

Any thoughts on where all these chickens and bees might be taking you? Future plans?

I just started with the bees, so that should take me some time to figure out. Actually, I would love to have some sheep.

And to end, where do you stand on the chicken or the egg question? Which came first?

Both.

Read more from Orren at Happy Chickens Lay Healthy Eggs, or find him on twitter as @happychickens.

I spent a couple days in Vigo last week, which is the second most important fishing port in the world after Tokyo. I mostly went to get a sense of the city, take a look around and try to talk to someone in the port authority to get permission to photograph. I got there on a Friday, and had hoped I’d be able to get in to shoot the next morning, but no such luck – email someone, wait a week, maybe. Instead, I wandered around the part of the port that is accessible to the public, and somehow (I’m not sure how anything this big can sneak up you) in the course of a quick coffee a cruise ship pulled in. I think this might be the first time I’ve actually seen a cruise liner up close, and needless to say they’re bloody massive.

For fun I did a search on what a typical cruise ship provisions before setting sail…

• 24,236 pounds of beef
• 5,040 pounds of lamb
• 7,216 pounds of pork
• 4,600 pounds of veal
• 1,680 pounds of sausage
• 10,211 pounds of chicken
• 3,156 pounds of turkey
• 13,851 pounds of fish
• 350 pounds of crab
• 2,100 pounds of lobster
• 25,736 pounds of fresh vegetables
• 15,150 pounds of potatoes
• 20,003 pounds of fresh fruit
• 3,260 gallons of milk
• 1,976 quarts of cream
• 600 gallons of ice cream
• 9,235 dozen eggs
• 5,750 pounds of sugar
• 3,800 pounds of rice
• 1,750 pounds of cereal
• 450 pounds of jelly
• 2,458 pounds of coffee
• 1,936 pounds of cookies
• 2,450 tea bags
• 120 pounds of herbs and spices
• 3,400 bottles of assorted wines
• 200 bottles of champagne
• 200 bottles of gin
• 290 bottles of vodka
• 350 bottles of whiskey
• 150 bottles of rum
• 45 bottles of sherry
• 600 bottles of assorted liqueurs
• 10,100 bottles/cans of beer

I can imagine with 3000 people on board eating three meals a day, waste from buffets, and over-indulgent vacationers all that’s pretty much gobbled up by the end of the trip. I have to assume that some of that is kept in reserve in case of emergency, but seems like there could be the potential for trouble if things go bad while out on the ocean. I chuckled imagining tuxedoed and top-hatted Brits drifting off the Bay of Biscay knocking each other about with empty champagne bottles as they battle over the last of the prime rib.

Note: Sadly none of the English passengers exiting the ship were wearing top hats or tuxedos. Khaki shorts, sunburns and flip-flops all.

“An important work of architecture will create polemics.” // Richard Meier

Out of all the work I did in El Ejido I have been struggling to find a single image (or even a series of images) able to capture the scale of the place. Of course there are levels of scale at play: from the mountains of food produced annually to the suffering of field workers. I’m struggling with them all, but to begin I’ve been trying to visualize the physical space, the greenhouses – the architecture of food grown in such quantities that the means of production envelops homes, villages and even cities.

This feels like the closest I’ve come so far.

This is posted as a farm visit, but really it’s a fragment of a conversation had in the road between greenhouses one evening in El Ejido. Thomas and I had set out with the goal of reaching the foothills of the mountains behind the city, which meant a good couple hours walk through the plastic. While photographing an irrigation pond I turned back to see Thomas chatting with someone, I walked back down the road and was introduced to Francisco, a long time grower in El Ejido. Francisco’s operation is a small family run greenhouse of about two hectares, growing eggplant, and peppers.

We’d passed Francisco a few minutes before unloading bags of fertilizer from his truck, but he’d wandered up to chat as a family member is studying journalism, and he was intrigued by the cameras. We explained our project and he was quick to start talking about his experiences. He told us about the growth of the industry over the last 20 years, the time he’s worked in the area. Recently though he’s been having a harder and harder time of it, with his operational costs increasing, and the prices for his produce falling. Beyond the current financial problem in Spain, and the global crisis, he was equally concerned about foreign competition, particularly large Moroccan operations where workers are paid less, and work longer hours.

He also had a lot to say about the Spanish government, none of it particularly good. He felt cut off from any kind of financial assistance, or governmental support. “The Spanish government doesn’t care about farmers.” I asked him if there was any sort of subsidies he could apply for, but if there was he wasn’t aware of them. All of his financing was through bank loans, and from personal and family investment.

We talked for a little longer and then we got to the heart of the conversation. “I have a 10 year old son, and there’s no way I want him to take over this farm.” Francisco is well entrenched in a very industrial means of producing food, and for a lot of people the way he works is a problem. That said, it’s still a family operation, and he’s very earnest about what he’s doing, and has dedicated his entire working life to it. During our conversation he spoke about wanting to upgrade to a more ecological means of production, get rid of the plastic, install a more modern greenhouse, use less chemicals – but couldn’t for the associated costs. He bought into a system that 20 years ago was considered a sure thing, and the future of growing food, and it’s all fallen down in pieces around him.

Francisco is very much part of the crisis facing small farmers today, regardless of his type of operation. Rising costs, unfair market prices, corporate competition, and lack of support are doing farmers like Francisco in. There are many, many greenhouses for sale in the area, and what will things look like if/when larger, more industrial operations begin buying up these plots, operations run by folks who aren’t as thoughtful as Francisco? If El Ejido has to exist I’d rather it be run by local people worried about their children’s future than by corporations concerned only with profit.

I don’t believe that industrial agriculture on the scale of El Ejido is the right way to grow food, by Francisco’s own account it’s not sustainable, but at the same time I can’t look a man like Francisco in the eye and tell him he’s wrong. El Ejido is definitely bleak, but it could be a much worse.

The first day I arrived in El Ejido I decided to take a swing by the main tourist office (conveniently located a good few kilometres out of town – why?) I wanted to get a map of the area, and was also curious to see if any of the more industrial greenhouse operations offered tours. I expected not, but was handed a brochure for a company called Clisol, who’s tag line on their advertising is: “Guided tour to the inside exciting [sic] greenhouse world.” Perfect.

With a name like Clisol Agro, and their professional, slightly off-setting full colour brochure I was expecting industrial agriculture at it’s worst. When I called them to see about visiting the woman who answered the phone seemed a little cautious when I mentioned I was a journalist, asked a lot of questions about my work, my intentions, and then mentioned that there would be a 7€ charge for the tour. I felt things sliding further, pleased that I’d managed to sneak into some sort of secret world where I wasn’t really wanted, and somehow got them to give me a guided tour. I confirmed the time, and thanked the woman profusely.

The farm itself was on the southern edge of the greenhouses, on the cliffs above the resort city of Almerimar. Thomas and I decided to take a taxi as public transport in the area could be much, much better. When we arrived and wandered through the gates we were met by Lola, the owner. We explained that I’d called yesterday and were here for the tour – “oh, yes I’m the one you spoke to…” Wait, the owner is answering the phones? “…but you’re an hour early, the tour doesn’t start until 10:00.” “It’s five minutes to 10:00.” “WHAAAT??? My watch stopped, oh boy…” Now the owner is endearingly human, and slightly goofy? Maybe things aren’t going to be as cut-and-dry as I first thought.

We waited a few minutes for the rest of the tour to arrive, a huge bus load of seniors from a neighbouring city. After they all got sorted Lola began the tour by speaking about the history of the farm. She’s another life long resident, and Clisol has been in business for 35 years. It’s clear she considers her farm a family run operation. She gave a brief history of farming in the region, from it’s early beginnings when a single farmer decided to cover his crops with a tarp to protect them from the sun to today’s sprawl of greenhouses. She’s very direct though, noting that Almeria is a harsh climate and without the greenhouses nothing would be possible, at least not on the scale that there is now.

We then move into her neighbour’s greenhouse, which employs a very traditional set-up: double layers of plastic stretched over a frame, plants growing in soil, lots of chemical inputs, lots of irrigation, lots of manual labour. Lola explains the process quickly and we then move back across the road into her farm entering a much more modern multi-tunnel greenhouse. Lola has made a huge investment in infrastructure, and the difference between the greenhouse we just left and hers is remarkable. First of all it’s immaculate, and feels really fresh. The ceilings in a multi-tunnel greenhouse are much taller and while a typical greenhouse feels claustrophobic and dank this is the opposite. There are rows of chairs set-up for us and we all take a seat as Lola begins speaking about how her farm works.

Clisol’s operation is built around hydroponics, so they don’t grow in soil, and plants are fed nutrient rich solutions via a highly regulated system. They are currently planting in a fibreglass substrate, but are working to transition to coconut fibres, which work just as well, and are obviously much friendlier. All the water used in the system is recycled, and they use virtually no chemical pesticides, opting instead for a very complex pest-management system built around predator insects specific to the type of crop being grown, and the kind of bugs that eat them. The buildings themselves also do much to prevent infestations, as they’re solid (unlike a typical plastic greenhouse which is continually tearing allowing insects to enter.) Lola also implements very rigourous processes around entering and exiting her greenhouses, with double door systems (no two doors open at any time), giant fans and sticky traps to try and eliminate pests at the outset. The whole operation is controlled by computers which track temperatures, and water and nutrient levels, making minute adjustments as required. She even has a nice little railway system installed to make harvesting easier, faster and more comfortable, where you just sit down and mechanically roll along a track up and down the rows.

By the time we move into the next of Lola’s greenhouses, growing tomatoes, she has everyone enthralled. The old folks are laughing at all her jokes, oohing and awing at all the right times, and clamouring to try cherry tomatoes fresh off the vine. It’s clear Lola is a practised speaker, but she’s also deeply passionate about farming as sustainably as possible – acutely aware of the limited resources in the area, and focused on minimizing her impact while still producing as much food as possible. I probably couldn’t imagine a more industrial operation, perhaps just in scale, but Lola is right, if people want to farm in a place as arid as Almeria they need to use greenhouses, and this kind of operation makes sense. There’s no degradation of soil, no run-off of pollutants, no huge irrigation ponds, less chemicals, less hard labour. As much as I wanted to see the dirty industrial side of greenhouse growing this isn’t it. If it wasn’t for the costs involved this kind of operation might revolutionize, and likely revitalize El Ejido. Obviously, as with Francisco, it all comes down to the kind of person running the farm: industrial agriculture in the hands of real farmers – real people – is not inherently a bad thing.

Personally I think I’d still prefer that my tomatoes were grow in soil and see sunshine, though I’m also okay with not eating them for a good part of the year. But if the market continues to demand that tomatoes be available year round, and that they’re cheap, Lola and operations like hers are the answer. I wonder what effects a wider use of such farms across Almeria would have on labour, and migration? That was the one aspect of the conversation left out, and unfortunately I didn’t get a chance to ask about it afterwards. I felt that at times Lola was cautious, or perhaps a little guarded about broaching certain topics – overly protective, maybe. On the whole El Ejido has a lot of ills that need serious attention, but Clisol seems to have addressed the worst of them. I think Clisol could truly set itself apart by finding a way to speak out about migrant, and workers rights, and openly lead by example. They already might, like I said I didn’t get a chance to speak to Lola about it directly.

To end the day we moved back into the front of the farm, where there were tables and tables of cut vegetables waiting for us. Lola did mention that there would be a sampling at the end of the tour (note: fresh cucumber and honey is amazing!) The seniors wasted no time tucking in, and within 10 minutes there wasn’t much left. They then all shifted over to the farm stand, and did brisk work there too.

The old folks then got back on their bus, and Thomas and I wandered down into Almerimar for lunch, while very nearly being lunch ourselves for the swarms of mosquitoes laying in wait along the cliffs. I’ll admit to having preconceived ideas about what I was going to see today, and Lola confronted them head-on. El Ejido has been causing me to rethink a great deal about my work here in Spain, and today has added lots more to the mountain of new thinking I need to process.

My first moments in El Ejido have been cruel. Walking one of the roads through the greenhouses that surround the city I find a small bird fluttering in the gutter. It’s wing is broken. I pass it by, trying to put out of mind what I know I should do. After a few steps though I turn back, intent – but it’s found its way under the edge of a greenhouse wall, and is beyond my reach. I watch as it fumbles under some pepper plants and disappears.

My stomach knots a little.

At every turn there is more plastic, more greenhouses, I walk for an hour and still nothing on the horizon but plastic. There are 30,000 hectares of intensively grown vegetables here now, owned by some 15,000 farmers, and worked by upwards of 200,000 migrant labourers (there is no accurate count, workers come and go, shifting across southern Spain with the harvests – strawberries in Huelva, olives in Jaén.) Some of the workers are legal, they’ve arrived from eastern Europe, or have secured their papers from the Spanish government, but many are undocumented, lost between the homes they left, often years before, and a new home here, which they can’t quite reach. (My assumption that most illegal workers want Spanish residency is probably wrong, I would expect most just want to work and make enough money to live, and help support their families.)

And work is the problem – there is none. Besides being a slow time, a lull between seasons, production is down. Economic turmoil and competition from similar cheaper-run operations abroad is creating hard times for Almerian growers. This has been a small boon for illegal workers though, as greenhouse owners desperate to cut costs would rather hire undocumented labourers who they can pay less than those who can work legally. It shouldn’t matter, there’s a minimum day wage in Spain, there are laws, but who is going to complain when work is hard to find, and your position in society so tenuous.

My stomach knots a little more.

With this crisis too, El Ejido feels as if it’s falling to pieces, buildings are half finished, apartments empty, parks overgrown with weeds, streets strewn with garbage. The headline in the local paper warns that the opening of the new Corte Ingles shopping centre is in jeopardy – it stands incongruous and towering over the bus station, the main terminal for workers coming and going.

There is a clear line between the Spanish living in El Ejido, and the workers living amongst them. Thomas, a friend I’m working with for the week remarks that it’s as if the border fence between Spanish Africa and Morocco has floated north and blended into the city, still working to keep people apart. I respect that I’m looking in from the outside, I’m a visitor, but there is a palpable tension in town that is clearly about race. The few times I’ve been sitting at the bus station police have turned up, and from the dozens of people waiting have asked only Africans for their identification. There is a viciousness too – racist graffiti: swastikas, and calls to White Power are everywhere. As often as they’ve been crossed out, they haven’t.

Another knot.

During an interview I ask Spitou, the head of SOC, a local migrant workers union about racial profiling, and hate-mongering, if there are laws against these kinds of things. He replies that “yes there are many very good laws in Spain… they just don’t apply here.” It’s clear that the government is complicit with industry to keep labour cheap, and plentiful for the times when it’s needed, but it’s equally clear that they have no intention of making life easy for those who have come to do this work.

Thomas and I head with Cherif, an organizer from SOC to meet some labourers in San Isidro, a small town on the edge of the greenhouses. The first apartment we visit is empty but for one man watching television. He talks very quietly about not having work. He’s barely audible over the TV, and I have to move closer. What do you do? “Nothing.”

On the way to the next apartment Cherif warns of a ‘delicate situation’ – a month ago a dozen prostitutes from Nigeria arrived and claimed the house as their own. When we get there it’s clear who’s in charge. We ask to speak with Peter, but the women have never heard of him. We find Peter’s room, knock and peer in. It’s a space barely big enough for the single bed inside, piled with clothing and a few books. “Oh, him, he’s not here.”

We then head into the fields to the shell of a house stuck between greenhouses. 10 young men live here, the building provided by the church, but without water, heat, electricity, or even a working bathroom. Everyone is inside playing checkers, and while we’re watching I take a peak into a bedroom of bare mattresses and concrete. Most of the men are focused on the game, throwing pieces wildly around the board. The winner stays on. They don’t really want to talk, but Emmanuel seems eager, and we step aside into the makeshift kitchen. In the fireplace there’s a blackened pot slowly coming to boil over scraps of lumber. From what I can see the water can take all the time it needs, there’s not much to put in it.

Emmanuel speaks in broken Spanish – no food, no money, no work. Again – nothing. I ask him if he ever thinks of going home, and for a moment he is lost, I see in his eyes a look of self-doubt and what seems like maybe a little panic. He comes back though, and laughs – “No, I will work.”

As quick as Emmanuel is to tell his story John is hesitant. The whole visit he’s been sitting in an armchair outside the house, and I step back out to see if we can speak – he puts down the small dog he’s been grooming. He’s young, looks to be in his early 20s. He has good Spanish, but he answers all my questions shortly. Over the course of our conversation he talks of being in Spain for three years. Can that math be right? I try to get the story of his journey, drawing lines on a map in my head as he talks, but I have to stop at the Canaries, the trip passes beyond my comprehension.

I ask him about work – none. He figures he’s had two, maybe three full months of work over the past couple years. I’m about to ask “why don’t you move to Almeria, or the capital where you might have a better chance of finding work?” but I catch myself. How much better off would he be selling fake handbags to Spanish teenagers? Walking the streets of Madrid wearing a dozen straw hats at once, hustling oversized sunglasses and glow-in-the-dark beads to drunk tourists in the Plaza del Sol? Is that really what I would wish on him?

I bite my tongue. Knot.

When I began this I meant to spin that story of the bird into allegory – but no. These men have not bounced off a windscreen by chance to land here, the cruelty they are living through is a complex mix of forced migration, politics, money, and racism that adds up to a modern take on slavery. If you live in Europe, and eat vegetables men like Emmanuel and John (there are women too, just that we didn’t meet any this trip) have picked them. The money they generate only ever flows up towards the bosses of the bosses of the bosses, and Emmanuel and John are stuck at the bottom in an eddy of poverty that they have little hope of ever escaping.

Are cherry tomatoes and a cheap green salad in the dead of winter really worth all of this misery?

Knot.

Tomorrow I’m headed south again to meet up with my friend, and fellow photographer Thomas to spend a week or so working in Almeria. We’ll be focused on El Ejido, a small city surrounded by 30,000 hectares of intensive greenhouse production, as you can see above courtesy of Google. Everything white is a greenhouse growing peppers, cucumbers, tomatoes or melon for European markets. El Ejido has been on my radar for a while, not only for the sheer scale, and industrial nature of the production, but for the migration it spurs from Africa as much of the labour force made up of workers from Morocco and Sub-Saharan Africa. I think the area first came to my attention via We Feed The World, a great documentary on European food systems, and their increasing lack of sustainability. (The film can be viewed here, well worth the time.)

I’m not sure what to expect really, El Ejido was built as the future of food in Europe, but it’s not anywhere close. I’m trying to keep this time open to explore and think not only about my time in Spain, but more generally about what comes after. Food production needs to increase to ensure there’s enough to eat for future generations, but there has to be a better solution. How to document El Ejido? How to document the alternatives?

The above ad is currently running on Spanish television, as well similar material in their restaurants on place mats, posters, shirts, etc. For those that don’t speak Spanish you will get the gist of the message from the ad, but to sum they’re saying that the beef they use for their hamburgers in Spain is 100% beef, sourced locally from 30,000 Spanish farms. The printed materials also contain a link to the site: Comprometidos Contigos (Promises to You) that hopes to create “a place to establish an open and transparent dialogue” with consumers. Last year they started a connected program here called Testigos de Calidad (Witnesses to Quality) that involves guided tours of their beef processing plant in Toldeo, and the above site features videos of some of those who’ve taken the tour (positive comments only, obviously.)

Now, McDonald’s have always been masters at advertising, and have always been focused on positioning themselves as a family restaurant. Where other fast food companies like Burger King have turned to pop culture references and ample doses of apathy to sell burgers, McDonald’s have always tried to stay true to a family message. Even their “I’m lovin’ it!” campaign is about wholesome folks coming together to enjoy wholesome foods in a wholesome place. I couldn’t find the numbers for Europe, but in the U.S. McDonald’s spends $2.5 million dollars a day on marketing. Much of the McDonald’s messaging I’m used to is focused squarely on kids, and I was a little surprised by this campaign. Continuing with the wholesome thread it’s message is about family, country, farmers, health, etc. Namely: eating at McDonald’s is not only healthy and safe (100% pure beef, processed in a sparkling modern plant that anyone can come and visit) but the beef is local (30,000 farms across the country means there is one near you, stated pretty explicitly in the ad) and you’ll be helping support beef farmers (a traditionally strong Spanish industry now much less so), and by extension the whole of the country as it struggles with recession. All that in a quirky 30 seconds of friendly cows, green grass, chirping birds and sunny blue skies. Really, it’s genius. The fact that they’ve tied it into the ideas of witnessing and testimony is equally interesting, heavy concepts for a company who’s spokesman is a clown.

I do like the fact that they’ve opened up their factory to visitors, and I found this first-hand account (separate from McDonald’s corporate line). I also found a visit to a similar plant by a cattle farmer in Scotland. But what meat are these plants processing? In a way the campaign also brings to light, even if it’s trying to portray the opposite, some of the problems facing small farmers, such as faltering markets, falling prices, etc. Last week I spent a day walking in the countryside, and ran into a few cattle farmers who had pretty much the same story to tell: that they’ve had to drastically reduce the number of cattle they farm, and if the situation doesn’t improve for them soon they’ll probably have to sell the rest. Some now only had three or four cows down from 20 or 30 a few years ago. One farmer told how if a cow falls sick, or goes lame before it’s ready for slaughter it’s cheaper to kill it on the farm and have it taken away as waste, as the fees involved in shipping it to the abattoir, and having it processed would cost more than the price he’d get for the meat. Even if that’s not entirely true it speaks to how dire small farmers see their situation at present.

Further to the troubles facing farmers, in doing some research I also came across many, many postings of Spaniards who felt the ad was disingenuous, that no way were there 30,000 cattle farms in Spain. I couldn’t find an exact number, but I would wager there are actually many, many more. As everywhere there is a huge disconnect between consumers and where their food comes from, such that the question wasn’t how a company like McDonald’s works with Spanish farmers, but rather if Spanish farmers even really exist. And the former is the real question behind all the sunshine and happy cows – how does a multinational like McDonald’s benefit small farmers, if at all? To me this is where the calculation in these ads more likely lays.

At the moment I can’t say one way or another. McDonald’s obviously needs a lot of beef, and they’re not going around knocking on doors asking for a good price on a couple of cows. I asked one of the farmers I met who was making all the money if prices are dropping for farmers, but the costs of food were increasing. He just kicked at the dirt and wondered the same. The McDonald’s supply chain is a well greased machine (pun very much intended) and they would be buying meat from direct suppliers who would be sourcing it from indirect sources like slaughter houses, larger farms, etc. So, yeah, lots of farmers are benefiting, but in the end it’s really only McDonald’s, and, to a degree, their direct suppliers that would be making any substantial money. I wonder how many of those 30,000 farms actually know that their beef ends up in Happy Meals?

Another question is the sustainability, and environmental impact of all that beef production, again despite the green grass and singing birds. Within the European Union McDonald’s has created a program they call Flagship Farms. From their site: “The 3-year project has been developed by McDonald’s in conjunction with the Food Animal Initiative (FAI) [a European farmer-led initiative] to encourage sharing of sustainable agricultural practices and to demonstrate the long term commitment to agriculture that the company has.” They’ve created a ‘Good Practice Matrix’ that they use to gauge farm suitability, which highlights the sustainability practices they’re looking to implement, and much of it would seem to favour large operations with enough capital to make serious investments in infrastructure. This page in particular is interesting, where only commercially proven, spotlessly clean operations with well-spoken farmers who are 100% on McDonald’s side need apply. It’s unclear to me where this program is leading, if these farms will become models to be worked towards, or a base requirement for doing business with McDonald’s. Small farms have a much better chance at being sustainable, and create much smaller environmental footprints than industrial operations (typically) but can they be measured by the same means and still compete? Can they compete at all? Should they have to?

So, a lot of questions. Obviously, a company like McDonald’s has the power to change the way agricultural systems work to suit their corporate well-being. They can also use that clout to sway public opinion about what is food, and where it comes from. I’d say that the approach McDonald’s is taking here is much more appropriate than what happens in North America, much more connected to a realistic view of where food comes from, but is still very much serving the company’s bottom line. I’m going to apply to visit the factory in Toldeo and start making a point to ask farmers about where their cows end up. Like it or not, these companies are a huge part of agriculture today, and in the past I think I’ve tried to ignore that, and focus on farms I felt were outside of their influence. But really no farm is outside of their influence, one way or another, and I need to start working to get a better understanding of what that exactly means.

04.02.10 – Update: Looks like this campaign idea extends beyond Spain, as I found a British TV ad in a very similar vein.

04.30.10 – Update: Just came across a piece by Raj Patel, about it being time to retire Ronald. (Via: Mark Bittman’s Posterous)

Today I travelled out an hour into the mountains to the Trives valley with a local vet, named Suso, who needed to take some blood from a herd of cattle. I met Suso last week through a friend, and we sat down over coffee to discuss my tagging along with him when he heads out to make house calls (which is pretty much all he does, particularly when you’re dealing with free-range cattle.) We decided on this trip as it was to a part of the country I’d be hard-pressed to get to on my own, and he’d be there a while so it would give me some time to work.

We headed out pretty early, meeting at a café to have a quick coffee beforehand. The road was amazing beautiful, Galicia really is one of the most beautiful places I’ve worked. As we drove further into the mountains the towns got sparser, the countryside more wild, and when we finally pulled into the valley where we were headed snow-capped peaks and a mountainside of fog met us (that and two enormous bull mastiffs). The farmer, Jose Manuel, was still driving the cattle down from the mountains so we took a moment to walk through a few of the corrals, where a number of the younger cows had been gathered up for sale in the coming days.

Shortly thereafter we got a call from Jose Manuel, and we headed up to one of the lower fields to meet him and his mother, who together now run the farm. Some of herd had recently fallen ill, so today Suso was testing for BVD, Bovine Virus Diarrhea, which can be pretty serious, and move through a herd quickly. From what I understood there’s no real cure for it, so it’s important to determine which cows are infected, and if need be isolate them. Seemed to me though they were considering culling any of the infected cattle they found in this herd.

It took a good four hours to get blood from the 40, or 50 cows that they’d manage to round up that morning, working on six, or so at a time. The work was pretty tough-going though, as we were dodging intermittent downpours coupled with projectile diarrhea. I spent my time lending a hand where needed, talking with Jose Manuel about Galician cattle, and wandering around the valley.

After Suso had finished with his work we headed down to the farmhouse to wash up, take a look at the pork curing in the barn, and then headed into town for lunch. On the way back to Orense we stopped off to check in with a few rabbit farms that are also clients of Suso’s, one a sparkling modern facility, and the other a much older operation. While rabbit meat isn’t popular in Galicia, the farms are increasingly so, most as they aren’t so expensive to set-up, and you can produce a lot more meat with far fewer resources than beef (something like six pounds of rabbit meat to one pound of beef with the same inputs.) These rabbits were all bound for Catalunya, where it’s a staple, though farmers here are definitely hoping that it’ll catch on, though seems like the market in Barcelona is currently strong enough to support them.