To the field

I have spent the last three days harvesting mustard leaves and arugala in a agricultural settlement two hours outside of Belo Horizonte.

I took a night bus from Rio de Janeiro to Belo Horizonte on Monday night, planning to spend the next two weeks helping some farmers in a community of about 20 families.

All I had were my belongings, the most important of which was a piece of paper that had a name and cell phone number for the guy, Marcio, I was supposed to meet Tuesday morning in BH.

Since my Portuguese is not strong yet, all I had established with Marcio in our brief conversation was the I was going to arrive in BH on Tuesday. He said that he would be in town that day, selling his produce.

We didn't talk about where I would be sleeping for the next two weeks. We didn't talk about whether I would be expected to pay him anything. I figured these details would best be left to our face-to-face meeting.

I was headed into the unknown without any idea where I would be the next day or what I would be doing. The last time I remember having this feeling was the first time I went to Arenillas.

By sunrise on Wednesday morning, I was picking mustard greens with Marcio and his sons in Assentamento Pastorinha, fully embracing my return to the countryside.

Twenty families live in the community, which was the produce of agrarian reform enacted 12 years ago. There is no Internet here. Cell reception is sporadic. Kids have to go the nearest town for school, and public transportation does not reach the site.

How did I end up here?

The church in Assentamento Pastorinha

When Avery and I met with the head of food security programs in Belo Horizonte three weeks ago, I mentioned that I would be interested in volunteering my time with some of their agriculture initiatives. He put me in touch with the head of ____ programs, who gave me the name and contact info for some farmers in Asesentamento Pastorinha.

After a few days of phone tag (which is expected when dealing with a community where you have to stand on top of a hill to get reception), I got in touch with Marcio. I told him I would be arriving in Belo Horizonte on Tuesday and would be willing to take a bus to his community.

He told me that he spends Tuesdays in Belo Horizonte, selling his produce on a street corner. Instead of shlepping my stuff to his community on my own, I could go with him and his son.

I arrived on the night bus from Rio de Janeiro and called Marcio to find out with street corner to meet him at. My Portuguese  over the phone is relatively weak, but I managed to understand enough of what he said to ask people in the bus station directions.

At first, I was told that I should take a bus there and told how to get to the bus stop. But after asking a few more people on my way to the bus stop, they told me that it would be faster if I walked there.

After 20 minutes walking through downtown Belo Horizonte, I finally found Marcio and his son, standing at their vegetable stand. They greeted me warmly and immediately started showing me the ropes of what life is like for smallholder farmers in BH.