Some Good News

After all these years, I still have the capacity to be astonished by our work. When I am, it is almost always due to the agency and capacity of the families we work with. Last month'‘s trip to Oaxaca, with several members of our board, was a vivid reminder of this.

Every day had its highlights - and there are too many to list here. 

On our first day in the field, we visited the community of San Matias, in one of the watersheds where we began working more recently. San Matias might be right on the edge of where our work can be effective. It is hot and dry, without significant forest resources. Water is a constant struggle. Remittances from relatives working in the US make up a larger part of the local economy than in some of the more verdant regions. Without frequent rain, reforestation is challenging; during times of drought they often have to water seedlings by hand. However, the tenacity of the people I have met in this area is inspiring. 

San Matias municipal building

I was completely disarmed when, towards the end of our visit, we saw the tree nursery of a group called Cerro del Aguila. One of the leaders, Lorenzo, told us that they were not just planting trees for their own community, but the trees were part of the commonwealth of humanity. “These trees are for everyone around the world, to give oxygen, and stop climate change. We are planting them for the planet in general, not just our community.”

Carmen, standing next to him, went on to say that they were working for future generations as well. “The people who came before us left a lot of resources to us, and we want to make sure we leave things to those who follow us.”

I was deeply moved by the courage of these unlikely heroes, as I considered the earnestness with which they offered their gifts to a world so quick to discount them. I told them how inspiring and maybe unusual their attitude was, as our own culture seems to grow strangely colder, even while the planet warms. 

The next day, we were scheduled to visit some reforested areas in a couple of the older communities, much like I had two years earlier. However, while we were driving, one of our team members, Noé handed me a book filled with spectacular imagery, showing before and after photos in seven different areas that we would be visiting. Whereas the 2023 visit (A Forest Grows) was a one-off experience, this let me know this experience had been repeated over and over again and documented well. Each spot carried a similar story, of returning biodiversity and cooling microclimates. As we walked down the hill through one grove, Isaias, our guide, startled two deer which had been wandering down to the stream below. He commented on how scarce they had been, only recently. 

Visiting a locally run tree nursery, full of native pine seedlings

That afternoon, we visited San Juan, a community I had last visited 30 years earlier, during our baseline study. It is a memorable place, stretched along a narrow ridge, with sharp drops on either side and the ruins of an ancient Mixtec fortress nearby. On my first visit, I was shocked when I learned that their only source of income was illegally produced charcoal. Not too much has changed in that regard, but with Purpose Groups and extensive reforestation efforts, the situation is not so dire. 

Barely out of the van, we were greeted with sashes and garlands of bougainvillea in a formal greeting from traditional local authorities and members of the saving groups. In the midst of this receiving line, one of the savings group members greeted me by name. My jaw dropped. I had not been here in 30 years. 

He told me we had met years before in El Rio, the community he was from. He said I looked the same, and in the course of proving otherwise, I showed him a photo of me speaking at a church in El Rio. As it turned out, in the photos I was standing with his father, who had once been a great friend. I understood now why he might not have looked familiar - he was at most a teenager the last time I had seen him.

After a hearty Mixtec barbacoa, we made our way to El Rio, where Nancy and I had spent several weeks during the establishment of Misión Integral and Plant With Purpose’s early experiments with mission trips. The handicraft demonstration unexpectedly became a joyful reunion, and as our van was loaded and ready to leave, I was still reconnecting with men and women in their thirties, who eagerly searched my phone for pictures of their late parents, while reminiscing about playing with us when they were ten.

These stories barely scratch the surface but are a vivid reminder of the outward ripples of the work I have been privileged to be a part of. To all those who have supported us over the years, let me say thank you. It matters!