The Bolita Bean Wars

Homespun heirloom varieties are endangered

EL RITO, CO. More than two decades ago in 1987, I made my first visit to the Corpus A. Gallegos Ranches at the principal headquarters a mile west of San Luis, Colorado. This is one of Colorado's famed and distinguished Centennial Farms, a designation given only to those farms that have been in continuous operation under the same family for at least 100 years. I was privileged to meet Corpus and his wife Yvette as well as three of their children - Joe, Rafaelita, and Aquino (Jerry). This is the oldest, continuously operated (non-Native American) family farm in Colorado (established in 1851).

What I remember most vividly about that visit was the meal: The centerpiece was chicos del horno and bolitas. Both of these dishes were new to me. I'll never forget the bursting flavors that issued from each roasted corn kernel imbued as it was with the burnt earth terroir of the adobe horno. At the time, the Gallegos family was without their own horno (earthen-work oven), but that is another story best left for later.

The bolita beans were also spectacular. I was raised on a diet that included a lot of pinto beans. The main difference I tasted was that the bolitas produced a rich creamy tan-hued broth that seems as if some sort of sweet cream was added. I asked Corpus and Yvette to explain the preparation: How did you all get this creamy broth? Water, salt, and pepper and an overnight simmer was their response.

I was stunned. So much flavor and rich, creamy good eats; and all of it coming from the bean itself and not some secret spice or additive.

The following morning Corpus pulled out a large Mason jar filled with bolita beans. He had come to show me the secret of the bolitas. The bolitas, Corpus explained, get their name from the fact that they are shaped like tiny little round balls. (See photo below).

The beans on the left side are heirloom bolita beans from
the Corpus A. Gallegos Ranch in San Luis, CO while the
beans on the right side are a commercial hybrid variety
from Dove Creek in western Colorado.

The shape, size, and color of the bolitas was distinct: Round or really oblong and ball-like, beige-tinted, and quite petite. These beans were about half the size of the typical pinto bean which has squared edges instead of soft rounded curves to its morphology [a branch of biology that deals with the form and structure of animals and plants; or, the form and structure of an organism or any of its parts.]

Bioinvasions alter the bolita

Flash forward 22 years and I find myself irrigating the hay and heirloom crops fields on the ranch my sister, Tania, and I recently acquired as a home for our non-profit organization, The Acequia Institute. I am a third-year parciante of the acequiahood. As Joe Gallegos tells me: "You are one of us now. No more 'You all' and that kinda talk..."

Yet, not all is well in our Culebra acequiahood.

This year, as is usual every April and May, I went about town collecting seeds from local acequia farmers for the Institute's ongoing work on in-situ agro-biodiversity conservation. The Institute is home to a "Memory Seed Bank" that is part of my personal 25-year effort to protect the unique variety of native heirloom crops of the Rio Arriba bioregion.

Our focus at the Institute is on the "three sisters" endemic to native South and North American agroecology and ethnobotany - corn, bean, and squash - and their wild relatives. The preservation of the genetic distinctiveness of bolitas is a primary concern of ours since this bean variety has outstanding culinary qualities and has been adapted by local farmers to a 90-day growing season at an average elevation of 8,000 feet above sea level.

What I found this year was deeply disturbing. The bolitas of the acequia farms of the Rio Culebra watershed are "genetically contaminated," a condition most likely resulting from open cross-pollination with other hybrid and land race varieties of Phaseolus vulgaris (the common bean) that farmers here may have inadvertently introduced.

We have been silently invaded by cheater bolitas.

Food sovereignty is built on a foundation of locally-adapted seed stocks

The common bean is an herbaceous annual plant. The dozens of native land race varieties of the common bean were domesticated in Mesoamerica and the Andes at least 5,000 years ago. The ancestor of the domesticated varieties is the Frijol de Rata and this "wild relative" is still found throughout Mexico, the Andes, and the American Southwest. Beans, squash, and corn are the "Three Sisters" that provided the foundation of Native American agriculture. Beans are a legume and are thus appreciated by Native farmers for their nitrogen-fixing qualities that naturally enrich the soil medium.

The bolitas I collected this year (nine samples from different families and corresponding to most of the distinct riparian zones associated with the original long-lots or vara strips) show signs of contamination from the introgression of genetic traits associated with non-Native, non-heirloom varieties including the commercial hybrid or "cheater" bolitas marketed out of Dove Creek, Colorado.

This biological contamination is caused by "foreign" sources of bolita-like beans that have cross-pollinated with the local heirloom varieties. I discussed this problem with Linda Prim, formerly of the Ghost Ranch in Abiqui and now a consultant with our local acequia farmers' coop, the Culebra Coperative Growers. Linda is a leading expert on seed saving and land race biodiversity conservation.

Linda verified my worst fears: "The bolita is in danger of extinction," she explained. It has been widely contaminated by cross-pollination with other beans and the introduction of commercial hybrid versions of our beloved creamy bolitas.

This constitutes not just a threat to the genetic integrity of our local heirloom beans, it is an assault on our food sovereignty. If we cannot protect and nurture the preservation and exchange of our native land races, we may very well lose the capacity to remain self-sufficient in the sustenance of our local food system. If we cannot protect our bolitas, this will be a first step toward granting corporations control of our seed stocks.

As a result, the Acequia Institute has been working on a seed saving and exchange "Memory Bank" that focuses on re-establishing the integrity of our local heirloom varieties. This summer, the Institute is planting five experimental plots, in isolated locales, to begin the process of restoring the integrity of our local beans through careful "natural selection" of those beans that exhibit the morphological and culinary qualities we have grown to appreciate over the generations of place-based farming practices. This will be followed by genetic testing to set the benchmarks for our Culebra bolitas.

We will report back on the results after our Fall harvest in early October.

Limpiza y saca de acequia - 2009

Parciantes, familia, y amigos on the San Luis Peoples Ditch (April 23, 2009)

The San Luis Peoples Ditch Annual Clean-Up

EL RITO, CO. Every spring, the parciantes of the acequias of New Mexico and Colorado gather to engage in the collective labor of cleaning up the acequias to get ready for the irrigation season which around here starts around May 15 (The Feast Day of San Isidro Labrador).

Tania P. Hernandez on the acequia clean-up crew.

This year, on the San Luis Peoples' Ditch, we had more than sixty people turn out for this communal endeavor. We had a dozen students and three faculty from Western State College join us this year. There was even a self-identified tourist by the name of Mark who toiled alongside the rest of us.

Elaine H. Peña cuts weeds from the bank.

The limpieza y saca de acequia is an ancient custom that has been followed throughout the history of Chicana/o acequia farming in the Rio Arriba. This is a very important part of our local food system as it prepares our irrigation system and nurtures the bonds of mutual obligation and cooperative labor among the parciantes of the acequiahood.

Tania P. Hernandez and Praxedis Ortega, Jr. pause for a photo op.

The parciantes of the San Luis Peoples Ditch, now renamed as La Acequia de la Gente de San Luis, include some of the first farming families in Colorado like Praxedis Ortega, Jr., the owner of a Colorado Centennial Farm. "Prax" is the fifth generation in his family to farm off La Acequia de la Gente de San Luis.

The mid-day comida.

The day's proceedings always revolve around a collective luncheon of local foods prepared with ingredients from the previous year's harvest. This year we were treated to chicos del horno, chile verde and chile colorado, habas, bolita beans, corn bread, corn tortillas, and even hot dogs and burgers (prepared with locally butchered ground beef).

Sisnaajini (Mount Blanca) and the Gallegos-Peña haystacks.

This year was an especially memorable one because we engaged in our collective labors fully aware of and in the mood to celebrate the passage of Colorado's new "Acequia Recognition" law that formalizes the customary law of the acequia as an alternative to the Doctrine of Prior Appropriation. The new law also states that the collective work of limpieza y saca is legally required for all the farmers on the ditch.

The annual limpieza y saca de acequia is above all an important social event. It is the "cultural glue" that binds neighbor to neighbor in a spirit of conviviality.

This year's snowpack is about 110% of the annual average so we will have plenty of water for all 74 acequias in our local watershed. Even the "water hogs" might have an easier time than usual if they take water out of turn or take too long to irrigate their fields.

Yet, despite the spirit of community, a deep rooted sense of place, and the new Acequia Law, we face some serious challenges in our little bioregion. I am just now waiting for Joe Gallegos to drive to the Torcido Creek Gate of La Sierra Commons (formerly known as the Taylor Ranch) for the first of what I am certain will be a long series of protest events by local people against subdivision developers.

A new subdivision is being developed on the Torcido Creek Road that provides entry to our common lands. The subdivision developer claims that this is a private road and we can no longer use it for access to the commons. The local people and the County Commissioners disagree and rightly assert that this is a county road and must therefore remain open for local people to gain access to the mountains.

A critical issue of concern to us is that this development represents yet another act of environmental racism that will affect the quality and quantity of water moving from the mountains and into our streams and acequias. The 35-acre lots need roads and the developer constructed what must be close to a hundred miles of new erosive surfaces.

It seems our struggles for environmental and social justice never end, they simply enter into new chapters of resistance to those who treat water and land as mere commodities instead of the ecological basis of life to be cared for under Original Instructions. Another summer of civil disobedience is in order. We will prevail; we always have.