A single tear rolled down my face as I sat on the bus leaving the small municipality of Jerez in the Mexican state of Zacatecas, the only place that I had ever called home. I felt the warmth of my mother sitting next to me, her finger softly grazing my cheek, wiping the tear away. “Todo va a estar bien, mija,” she would reassure me, reminding me constantly that our trek north was for the best, a fact that my six-year old self could not yet recognize. We had everything — a nice house, good food on our plates, warm clothes on our backs — so why did we have to pack up and leave?
My heart continued to break as the bus escaped the mountainous terrain of my beloved Zacatecas. Soon I would no longer see the beautifully lit churrigueresque church which occupied the city center of my charming town. I would not hear the lively music on Sundays, and I would not feel the infectious happiness everyone in Jerez possessed. Soon all of this would be but a memory. In what felt like seconds, we left the Sierra Madre Occidental behind, and entered into a landscape that I had never seen before. Looking out the window, I saw miles and miles of open land covered by a fawn colored blanket of a plant I did not recognize. The unidentifiable plants swayed in the soft breeze. What were these mysterious plants? Where did they come from? Who put them there? For a moment this image, and all of my questions, soothed me, until I realized that the weeds were moving as if waving goodbye. My eyes then fixated on the horizon, and as my visibility expanded further than I could have ever imagined, tears fogged my sight, leaving all of my questions about this novel landscape unanswered.
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Most of Mexico’s land has been historically used for agriculture. As of 2015, it was estimated that nearly 55% of Mexican land was used for husbandry, most of it being arable land worked to grow crops.¹ The country’s very diverse climate and topographical regions allow for the growth of various types of crops throughout the 31 states that make up the republic. The southern states, with a wet tropical climate and lush, green forests, grow sugarcane, oranges, and coffee.⁵ As you travel north and the climate becomes more temperate in the states of Jalisco, Guanajuato, Querétaro, Zacatecas, San Luis Potosí, and others, you begin to see vast fields of sorghum and corn, crops with which I was very familiar growing up in this region.⁵ In the northernmost states, the climate becomes dry and warm. With a yearly average of 16 inches of rain, most of which falls during the wet season between the months of July and September, the desert landscape of the border states is ideal for growing wheat⁵ the mysterious crop which had caught my eye that fateful day.
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“Immigration is a vessel for opportunity.” The words of my third-grade teacher echoed in my head after learning about the concept of the American Dream. We learned that people, both citizens and immigrants, strongly believed that they could achieve success and prosperity by working hard. As I reflected on my life in Mexico, I recognized that this was the exact reason why my mother decided to start our lives over in the United States. Sure, Jerez was a beautiful town, full of life and happiness, but it was not particularly a place of progress, and the only upward mobility was that of people physically climbing up the cerro. While we had everything we needed in Mexico, she wanted to make sure that I could create the future that I wanted. She wanted me to be able to grow into a better, more ambitious person and pursue whatever dreams I may have. My mother knew that we needed to live in a place where progress was expected, not simply hoped for. Understanding the logic of the reason for our move gave me peace of mind, and regardless of how how much I struggled to adapt to this new life, I knew then that she had been right all along, “todo va a estar bien.”
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Just as progress requires certain societal conditions to develop, wheat needs particular conditions to grow. A general guideline is that wheat can grow in conditions that are comfortable for humans, which means temperatures ranging from 20 to 23 degrees celsius. In terms of water consumption, wheat requires anywhere between 12 to 15 inches to grow a good crop. Wheat is a winter crop, and it is planted in October following the rainy season of Northern Mexico, and harvested in June. Though these 9 months are the driest in the region, the crops receive enough water in this time period to grow plentifully.⁵ Furthermore, this particular crop does better in places with low humidity, since a lot of diseases that target this plant thrive in high-moisture environments.⁴ Though these growing conditions are so specific, they fit perfectly with the climatic conditions of Northern Mexico, making it easy for this crop to be grown efficiently and in high quantities in the area, which was evident by the field with which I had stumbled upon during my heartbreaking move to the United States
Growing conditions are very easily met now, but the predicted effects of climate change pose a significant threat to such a staple crop. Recent studies conducted by the peer-reviewed Nature Climate Change journal reveal that a 1 degree celsius increase in global temperature could lead to a decrease in wheat production between 4.1% and 6.4%.⁴ The same studies predict that on average, we can expect a “3.9% yield reduction per degree of global temperature increase,” in the coming years.⁴ This is particularly alarming since global demand for food is expected to increase by “between 59 and 98%” in the next two decades.³ To make matters worse, worldwide temperature averages are not going to increase just by 1 degree celsius, in fact a 1 degree celsius increase in temperature is not even the low estimate. According to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the best estimate for the low scenario of global temperature increase is 1.8 degrees celsius,⁶ which could bring by catastrophic changes in sea level rise, natural disasters, disease, and food insecurity.²
It is estimated that by the year 2050, there will be 10 billion mouths to feed on Earth, but with decreasing yields for staple crops, such as wheat, the degree to which we can actually accomplish this is questionable.³ Even with nearly 2 billion less people in the world now, there are still millions of people starving, a number that will only continue to increase, as agricultural production becomes less and less plentiful in an increasingly hostile world.
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The year is now 2040, and I sit in my vehicle driving across the Mexican Plateau. The plateau that used to be covered in wheat fields that expanded for miles, the same plateau that my mother and I crossed years ago as we escaped Mexico in search of a better life. My two beautiful children sit in the backseat, looking out the window as inquisitively as I had when I was their age. My hands grip the steering wheel and my eyes fixate on the horizon as I try to hide the excitement of visiting my hometown after so many years. My mother sits in the passenger seat next to me, looking astonished at the change in scenery. “Ay, como han cambiado las cosas” she says to me. The phrase echoes in my head, “oh, how have things changed.” The excitement fades, and I grow increasingly angry at the implication of this phrase. It’s almost as if she thought that this change was normal, almost as if things had changed willingly and had not been violently forced to adapt to our careless actions. I brush it off, she’s old, she doesn’t know any better. My youngest child points out the open window to an ominous cloud looming over the horizon. “What’s that, mommy?” she asks. Looking through the rear view mirror I identify the cloud as a sandstorm. I couldn’t believe it. “Roll the window up, honey. Quick” I tell her, trying to remain as calm as I possibly could as I tried to process the fact that we now lived in the post-apocalyptic world that had been depicted time and time again in all of those science-fiction movies I watched as a kid.
As we drove into Jerez, the small town that I had such vivid memories of, I noticed everything had changed completely. The churrigueresque church was no longer beautifully lit, and instead was crumbling at our feet. The streets that used to bustle with life had become barren, and the only people who remained walked with a grim expression on their faces. What had happened to this place? This is not how I had imagined my town when first visiting with my kids. I wanted them to see the life and charisma of my hometown, the town I loved so much. From a distance we heard a shout, “Doña Yolanda!” We turned to see an old family friend who quickly approached and welcomed us in a warm embrace. As my mother and her friend caught up, I couldn’t help but think of how terrifying it must have been to witness the changes firsthand. The shock, the grief took over me, and soon enough I was in tears. “What’s wrong, mommy?” my youngest asked me. I pulled her in for a hug, “mommy’s ok, go play with your brother.” As she scurried away, I wiped the tears away and turned to my mom’s friend, and interrupting their laughter I asked, “what happened to this place?”
Shocked by the question, he stayed quiet for what seemed like an eternity. I repeated the question, this time with a demanding tone. I needed to know. “Don’t you know?” he finally responded, “the crops gave out. Nothing grows here anymore. People escaped North because they couldn’t keep their families alive. Figured if anyone had food it would be the Americans.” I was in disbelief. I knew very well this would not be contained to Jerez, it would not be contained to Mexico. Soon, my own children would suffer the consequences of our actions, even if they lived in the United States. We could’ve done something… How had we ignored so many warning signs? How was I supposed to let my children die because of our mistakes? I was visibly distraught as my mother pulled me in for a hug trying to comfort me. A tear ran down my face, and her old finger softly grazed my cheek wiping the tear away. “Todo va a estar bien, mija” she would reassure me, except this time I didn’t believe her.
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References:
- “Agricultural Land (% of Land Area).” Agricultural Land (% of Land Area) | Data, The World Bank, 2015, data.worldbank.org/indicator/AG.LND.AGRI.ZS?locations=MX.
- Allen, Myles, et al. “GLOBAL WARMING OF 1.5 °C.” Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, 6 Oct. 2018.
- Cho, Renee. “How Climate Change Will Alter Our Food.” State of the Planet, Columbia University , 27 July 2018, blogs.ei.columbia.edu/2018/07/25/climate-change-food-agriculture/.
- Liu, Bing. “Similar Estimates of Temperature Impacts On Global Wheat Yield by Three Independent Methods.” Nature Climate Change, 12 Sept. 2016.
- “Major World Crop Areas and Climatic Profiles.” United States Department of Agriculture , 1996.
- “Projections of Future Changes in Climate.” Projections of Future Changes in Climate – AR4 WGI Summary for Policymakers, Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, 2007, http://www.ipcc.ch/publications_and_data/ar4/wg1/en/spmsspm-projections-of.html.
The Climate Chronicles 