Sometimes people wonder at the passion we Vetiverites display when discussing Vetiver and its applications. Friday I found our zeal matched by that of Ray Anderson, Time Magazine's "green CEO" and featured luminary in the movie, The Corporation. I attended his address at the University of Hawaii and learned the reasons that, 14 years ago, he totally revised the business-as-usual focus of his successful carpet company.
Quietly compelling, Anderson, 74, speaks in a warm Georgia drawl with persuasive authority and unmistakable commitment. His personal epiphany occurred in 1994, when he considered how he would answer a journalist's question, "What is your company doing for the environment?" The query led him to Hawkins' Ecology of Commerce, specifically the chapter entitled "The Death of Birth." He resolved then to become part of the solution and to lead his company to sustainability, "one mind at a time." Since then, he's presided over a dramatic shift in the way carpet companies manufacture and reclaim their products, so-called "life after life," dispelling the arguments of contrarians along the way.
Anderson believes this culture shift is the second in American life. The first was the industrial revolution. He calls the second "Rachel Carson's revolution. Stakeholders have to decide their relationship to the Earth. The choice is to hurt it or help it." He's watched the green building movement develop momentum and tremendous clout in the marketplace. He witnessed attendance at the annual Green Building Conference grow from 134 in 1997 to more than 25,000 in 2008, and credits the rising levels of public awareness. "How many of you know an ex-environmentalist?" he queried. When no one raised a hand, he remarked that the response mirrors that of the approximately 150 audiences he addresses each year. He's convinced that, given the opportunity to change "global climate disruption" and improve our environment, the vast majority will change their lifestyles. The others will ultimately die.
So, why do we Vetiver pioneers buck the status quo? Because we believe that businesses and individuals, given the opportunity, will choose to use a proven, green technology to improve the environment.
My credo?
I believe that people, given a viable, economical solution, want to eliminate the runoff that creates a deadly brown lei around our coastline and chokes our reefs.
I believe that our municipal entities want to stabilize and green the slashes and gaping red holes in the hillsides that line our highways and roads.
I believe that the military wants to restore and heal the earth that it regularly ravages during its training exercises.
I believe that homeowners would rather establish small Vetiver leachfields than suffer inevitable blankets of sh*t created by overflowing cesspools and septic tanks following heavy rains.
I believe that homeowners, given the choice, would choose a vegetative barrier over conventional concrete and re-bar to stabilize the slopes on which their homes perch.
I believe that Vetiver is bioengineering for the 21st Century whose time is now.
Vetiver is a soft engineering solution that protects slopes, banks and cuttings that, in many cases, is environmentally, technically and economically superior to hard engineering solutions. It's green, economical, and permanent. And its formidable root system has a documented tensile strength of 75 mPA (one-sixth mild steel).
Infrastructure protection. Planted on slopes, banks and cuttings, Vetiver is a permanent, stabilizing solution.
Vetiver stops excessive soil erosion. (Tantalus? Kahekili Highway? Kailua Road? Pali? Waianae?)
Vetiver planted on unstable slopes reduces rockfalls and landslides. (Hawaii Kai? Nuuanu?)
Vetiver protects causeways and floodways. (Laie? Waialua? Haleiwa?)
Sewage/wastewater/sanitation treatment. Planted in constructed wetlands and leach fields, Vetiver filters wastewater.
Vetiver roots filter wastewater outfalls and landfill leachates. (Lake Wilson? Waimanalo Gulch?)
Vetiver dries soakage areas and improves percolation.
Land management. DLNR, Marine Corps, Navy, Army, OHA, KS/BE?
Vetiver contour hedges promote sustainable farming on slopes. (Coffee, tea, banana, grapes, basil...)
Vetiver stabilizes eroding river banks. More economical than gabions, Vetiver reduces sediment loads from run-off, improves water quality, and reduces nutrient loads and eutrophication risk.
Vetiver stabilizes and protects storm water and irrigation canals. Its leaves filter sediment and rubbish, and its roots filter soluble nutrients and chemicals.
Vetiver stabilizes aquaculture ponds and access paths.
Mature Vetiver and fencing wire effectively confine livestock.
Showing posts with label steep slopes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label steep slopes. Show all posts
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Monday, October 27, 2008
Going green in Panama's cloud forests
FARMERS IN PANAMA'S CLOUD FORESTS ARE FINDING THAT ORGANIC FARMING SAVES MONEY -- AND LIVES
Special to The Miami Herald
CERRO PUNTA, Panama -- BY TRISTRAM KORTEN
Angel Aguirre suffered some strange looks from neighbors a few years ago when he began refashioning his farm into a model of sustainable agriculture -- using organic fertilizers made from chicken droppings and rice husks, and making pesticides from chili peppers and water.
''They thought I was crazy,'' he said, standing on a hillside above his onion fields. ``Ten years ago nobody used organic products here. My father told me this wasn't going to work.'' Not only is it working, Aguirre, the president of a local environmental farm support group that goes by the acronym FUNDICCEP, said his farm is thriving and the philosophy of sustainable farming is spreading. Especially today, with the rising cost of fuel and farm supplies, his methods are beginning to make sense to others.
''My neighbor has asked me to help him with the type of irrigation I use,'' Aguirre said.
Even in the best of times there is nothing convenient about farming in Cerro Punta, a tiny town perched 6,000 feet above sea level. The fields are planted on hillsides so steep that tractors can only drive vertically up and down the crop rows. If they tried to drive horizontally, they would risk rolling over. This means water from rain and irrigation runs off quickly.
But the advantages outweigh any problems. The rich, dark soil -- the Barú Volcano, Panama's highest peak, towering overhead -- coupled with the moist climate creates perhaps the most fertile region in the country, one with four growing seasons a year. As a result, the nearly 900 farms of Cerro Punta, population 7,000, grow 80 percent of Panama's vegetables -- excluding rice, wheat and corn. Every patch of dirt, whether it's next to the little market in town, or in someone's precipitous backyard, sprouts onion bulbs, carrot tops, heads of cauliflower and feathery-leafed herbs. Cerro Punta is Panama's salad bowl.
The town occupies another important environmental niche. It is the gateway to a forest corridor between two large and environmentally important parks -- Barú Volcano National Park and La Amistad, which is shared with nearby Costa Rica.
The farmers here, however, have not always been the best stewards of their land. For at least three decades they have relied on synthetic fertilizers to grow their crops and man-made pesticides to protect them. Environmentalists say the pesticides, including Paraquat, which is banned in Europe and is available in the United States only with a special license, poison people, land and water. And harsh fertilizers strip the soil of nitrogen, requiring more and more fertilizer to compensate, leaving the ground weakened and vulnerable to unwanted fungi. Additionally, because of the steep topography, these chemicals wash off the fields with the first rain, coursing down the mountainside into rivers that provide drinking water to communities downstream.
Aguirre said the number of farms like his in the region is maybe 10 percent of the total. ''But 80 percent of the farms use some organic methods,'' he asserted.
The problem is that the industrial way is cost-effective, at least in the short term. Sustainable farming is labor intensive. Aguirre has planted barriers of vetiver, a grass with a dense root system, so he can plant his crops horizontally in stepped fashion. This prevents the rains from washing off the nutrient-rich topsoil, but requires more manual labor because tractors can't be used.
José Abdiel, who also uses sustainable methods on his farm, concedes, ``You need a lot more men to help with with the harvest. And a lot more money.'' But over time, the ''green'' farms reap savings in gasoline (no tractors), mechanized equipment and expensive industrial chemicals like the alternative fertilizers and pesticides. And the savings can be significant.
A 100-pound sack of synthetic fertilizer costs about $56 at the local supply store. The fertilizer Aguirre and Abdiel use, made by an environmentally-oriented farmer's collective called Amipila, costs only $5 for the same amount, according to Amipila. The collective sold 6,744 sacks by July this year, compared with 6,344 for all of 2007. It only started selling them in 2001. The savings can't always be measured in money. Hundreds of residents and farm workers have been poisoned (some fatally) from overexposure to farm chemicals. And although no study has been done to provide a conclusive link, healthcare workers here say the town's rate for asthma, leukemia, and stomach and liver cancers is about 1 percent to 3 percent higher than the national average.
''When I first started working in this town 15 years ago, we had about 60 cases of acute poisoning a year involving agricultural chemicals,'' Dr. César Vega Miranda said. But with gradual education and environmental awareness ``we're down to about eight or 10.'' The farmers' dependence here on synthetic chemicals is not necessarily their fault. It was, some say, thrust on them.
In 1968, a military coup ousted Panama's democratically elected President Arnulfo Arias. A military junta seized control and a series of strongmen ruled the country for the next 20 years. ''We weren't allowed to organize, and if there was a farmer's group or cooperative, it was controlled by someone in the state,'' recalls local environmentalist David Samudio. There was virtually no contact with the outside world. The years of military rule occurred amid momentous change sweeping the agriculture industry worldwide -- the so-called ''green revolution.''
Scientists had developed high-yield varieties of corn, rice and wheat and were aggressively exporting them as a means to stamp out famine. These were hybrid seeds that absorbed a lot of nitrogen from the soil, helping them grow quickly, but requiring synthetic fertilizers loaded with nitrogen. These crops were also more susceptible to pests and disease, requiring synthetic pesticides. In Cerro Punta, it essentially became government policy to saturate crops in chemicals, according to George Hanily, former program director for the Nature Conservancy in Panama and great nephew of President Arias.
The dictatorship ended in 1989, when the U.S. military invaded and ousted then-ruler Manuel Antonio Noriega. Within a few years of democracy's return, environmental groups that had been working in Costa Rica to save La Amistad reached across the border. The result so far are local groups like FUNDICCEP and Amipila, as well as partnerships with international groups like the Nature Conservancy, which has teamed up for a widespread environmental outreach campaign.
The organic fertilizer plant is such a success that one was built in a nearby town, and a campaign is underway to work with neighboring coffee farms.
''Now even my father sees, little by little, it's working,'' Aguirre says.
Special to The Miami Herald
CERRO PUNTA, Panama -- BY TRISTRAM KORTEN
Angel Aguirre suffered some strange looks from neighbors a few years ago when he began refashioning his farm into a model of sustainable agriculture -- using organic fertilizers made from chicken droppings and rice husks, and making pesticides from chili peppers and water.
''They thought I was crazy,'' he said, standing on a hillside above his onion fields. ``Ten years ago nobody used organic products here. My father told me this wasn't going to work.'' Not only is it working, Aguirre, the president of a local environmental farm support group that goes by the acronym FUNDICCEP, said his farm is thriving and the philosophy of sustainable farming is spreading. Especially today, with the rising cost of fuel and farm supplies, his methods are beginning to make sense to others.
''My neighbor has asked me to help him with the type of irrigation I use,'' Aguirre said.
Even in the best of times there is nothing convenient about farming in Cerro Punta, a tiny town perched 6,000 feet above sea level. The fields are planted on hillsides so steep that tractors can only drive vertically up and down the crop rows. If they tried to drive horizontally, they would risk rolling over. This means water from rain and irrigation runs off quickly.
But the advantages outweigh any problems. The rich, dark soil -- the Barú Volcano, Panama's highest peak, towering overhead -- coupled with the moist climate creates perhaps the most fertile region in the country, one with four growing seasons a year. As a result, the nearly 900 farms of Cerro Punta, population 7,000, grow 80 percent of Panama's vegetables -- excluding rice, wheat and corn. Every patch of dirt, whether it's next to the little market in town, or in someone's precipitous backyard, sprouts onion bulbs, carrot tops, heads of cauliflower and feathery-leafed herbs. Cerro Punta is Panama's salad bowl.
The town occupies another important environmental niche. It is the gateway to a forest corridor between two large and environmentally important parks -- Barú Volcano National Park and La Amistad, which is shared with nearby Costa Rica.
The farmers here, however, have not always been the best stewards of their land. For at least three decades they have relied on synthetic fertilizers to grow their crops and man-made pesticides to protect them. Environmentalists say the pesticides, including Paraquat, which is banned in Europe and is available in the United States only with a special license, poison people, land and water. And harsh fertilizers strip the soil of nitrogen, requiring more and more fertilizer to compensate, leaving the ground weakened and vulnerable to unwanted fungi. Additionally, because of the steep topography, these chemicals wash off the fields with the first rain, coursing down the mountainside into rivers that provide drinking water to communities downstream.
Aguirre said the number of farms like his in the region is maybe 10 percent of the total. ''But 80 percent of the farms use some organic methods,'' he asserted.
The problem is that the industrial way is cost-effective, at least in the short term. Sustainable farming is labor intensive. Aguirre has planted barriers of vetiver, a grass with a dense root system, so he can plant his crops horizontally in stepped fashion. This prevents the rains from washing off the nutrient-rich topsoil, but requires more manual labor because tractors can't be used.
José Abdiel, who also uses sustainable methods on his farm, concedes, ``You need a lot more men to help with with the harvest. And a lot more money.'' But over time, the ''green'' farms reap savings in gasoline (no tractors), mechanized equipment and expensive industrial chemicals like the alternative fertilizers and pesticides. And the savings can be significant.
A 100-pound sack of synthetic fertilizer costs about $56 at the local supply store. The fertilizer Aguirre and Abdiel use, made by an environmentally-oriented farmer's collective called Amipila, costs only $5 for the same amount, according to Amipila. The collective sold 6,744 sacks by July this year, compared with 6,344 for all of 2007. It only started selling them in 2001. The savings can't always be measured in money. Hundreds of residents and farm workers have been poisoned (some fatally) from overexposure to farm chemicals. And although no study has been done to provide a conclusive link, healthcare workers here say the town's rate for asthma, leukemia, and stomach and liver cancers is about 1 percent to 3 percent higher than the national average.
''When I first started working in this town 15 years ago, we had about 60 cases of acute poisoning a year involving agricultural chemicals,'' Dr. César Vega Miranda said. But with gradual education and environmental awareness ``we're down to about eight or 10.'' The farmers' dependence here on synthetic chemicals is not necessarily their fault. It was, some say, thrust on them.
In 1968, a military coup ousted Panama's democratically elected President Arnulfo Arias. A military junta seized control and a series of strongmen ruled the country for the next 20 years. ''We weren't allowed to organize, and if there was a farmer's group or cooperative, it was controlled by someone in the state,'' recalls local environmentalist David Samudio. There was virtually no contact with the outside world. The years of military rule occurred amid momentous change sweeping the agriculture industry worldwide -- the so-called ''green revolution.''
Scientists had developed high-yield varieties of corn, rice and wheat and were aggressively exporting them as a means to stamp out famine. These were hybrid seeds that absorbed a lot of nitrogen from the soil, helping them grow quickly, but requiring synthetic fertilizers loaded with nitrogen. These crops were also more susceptible to pests and disease, requiring synthetic pesticides. In Cerro Punta, it essentially became government policy to saturate crops in chemicals, according to George Hanily, former program director for the Nature Conservancy in Panama and great nephew of President Arias.
The dictatorship ended in 1989, when the U.S. military invaded and ousted then-ruler Manuel Antonio Noriega. Within a few years of democracy's return, environmental groups that had been working in Costa Rica to save La Amistad reached across the border. The result so far are local groups like FUNDICCEP and Amipila, as well as partnerships with international groups like the Nature Conservancy, which has teamed up for a widespread environmental outreach campaign.
The organic fertilizer plant is such a success that one was built in a nearby town, and a campaign is underway to work with neighboring coffee farms.
''Now even my father sees, little by little, it's working,'' Aguirre says.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
