On The Underground railroad

A place to remember the path as I walk it.

[truenaturedesign-blog]

In a land of contrast, mystery and years of imperialism, a small village of over three-hundred people on the edge of the Kalahari in Namibia germinated a new permaculture resiliency project in January of 2012. In talking with the headman of the village, he shared that their people, the San...

[biodiverseed]

Papaya: A GMO success story

The Rainbow Papaya — immune to the Papaya Ringspot Virus that crippled the industry — carries a protein coat from the virus, as a form of immunity (similar to a vaccination). It was bred by Dennis Gonsalves from Kohala, Hawai’i, at Cornell University.

This is a case of a “good GM crop,” in my opinion, for a number of reasons:

It was bred to avert a total crisis, and saved the livelihoods of thousands of farmers

Papaya doesn’t have wild relatives to cross with: it is already a genetically uniform crop

The Rainbow Papaya provides a kind of herd immunity to nearby non-GM crops

The only downside with this crop is that immunity doesn’t seem to be passed down to the next generation, so it can’t be used in further cross-breeding projects. However, people are welcome to re-harvest and plant seeds.

#GMOs #Hawai'i

[darknesshathcome-blog]

I bet these seeds are expensive as heck - and they have no idea what effect those papayas could have on the world in several generations, and they haven't done their research. I know because it would take fifty to 100 years to convince me that this stuff was safe, and 50 to 100 years ago, they were working with limited scientific staff (minorities, indigenous, transpersons, differently-abled, etc). Also, where were food allergies then? And autism and other disorders in current rates? What main manufacturers used to use BPA (It's ok, it's fine. We tested it.), and how big is the market for fertility clinics? There's your eugenics, it happened to "good people." Who gets the best fertility drugs? Livestock, probably. Who eats doctored livestock? Poor people on assistance programs. I'm not serious, of course. Life is satire. But seriously, how does the pollen work for the bees? Does it contain the expensive and unnecessary pesticides (what's nionix?) to make the papaya flourish? Do those pestcides transfer to the bees through pollen? And does that pollen poison the young bees? Did you know that if the young bees die, then the rest of the bees die? I have one kid. I am a queen, and I have my worker. I keep no drones. If my kid eats the wrong food - he gets hurt. Pesticides hurt. Mixed allergens hurt. I have a feeling doctors don't trust me because I'm nonwhite. I'm hoping that finding a way to get clean water, clean soil, sun and privacy will help us lead a free life. I feel strongly for any poor farmer that gets roped into these schemes with agribusiness. I will continue to buy fair trade organic and gmo free. I will continue to examine my choices and decline choices given if necesarry. Hobson would understand, I think. We have to choose something other than this existence. This life is eager and salivating for more suffering and I no longer feed the trolls. It makes them angrier when I ignore them like they did me. <3 And then I can bask in my rightness, while they provide annotations. My kid is like a canary in a coal mine when it comes to questionable food. I used to want to be saved by haphazard technology. And then I had a kid. You switch from whittling away at problems with a machete and you pick up a scalpel instead. You read instructions first. And you stop when you realize something is wrong. And something is wrong with everything. I will tackle everything that touches me, as I have the strength I will gain the knowledge necessary to ovecome opposition. There is only opposition. I win when I am happy. I have figured out how to always be happy. Eat well labeled good food or wild food or food what I've seen where it grows. Period. And congrats on the inoculations. For the first generation of seeds. Sounds a little white patriarchy to me. But if that's the congratulations you seek, then so be it. Congrats!

[lastrealindians-deactivated2015]

Prayers for Nigeria

[darknesshathcome-blog]

There is nothing else to say. If you already know how any indigenous people there were on the continent of North America, and how few there are today, and WHY. And if you know how many people were brought to North America from Africa, and how many people Boko Haram has taken... and an almost matching effort by multiple governments to maintain inaction and silence... Hard to believe it's 2015 already. Mad at myself that it took this long to remember that I used to be an indigenous person too. I think I want my life to be a long apology to the planet, and to indigenous people for ignoring them for so long. And to myself, for letting other people dominate my mind with small concerns. There's big problems and big work to be done. It kind of makes me sick that there is no magic indigenous person ready to teach me to be better. It really makes me sick when I realize I still have a brain that flips to the imagery of magical and sage nonwhites, waiting to live their lives giving answers to people who plan to take advice and run. Makes me sick and sad that I forgot that I was once an indigenous person. And that I was once a kid who studied magic and esoterics. And that I have the internet at my fingertips. (cue me knocking on my own front door, and opening it. cue me taking myself in. and cue me. Dark skin, dark eyes, dark thoughts. Blinding possibilities.)

[lastrealindians-deactivated2015]

Prayers for Nigeria

[darknesshathcome-blog]

Ties

One day, I got pregnant. Everyone said things were fine. I had the kid. All my friends said things were going to be fine. He wasn't normal. Not like other kids, normal. He was super familiar though. The tantrums were familiar. And I could kind of understand his frusturations. So could everyone else. He's fine. You're fine. Everything is fine. Except he wasn't fine. He had food allergies and intolerances and insensitivities. That's fine. He had some behaviors that were odd. And familiar. And he's super smart. And that's familiar. That's fine. It's all fine. I didn't think to ask questions. but I did vaguely remember the commercials where the person has a severe injury, and people ask them if they need help. And the person always says, "Oh no, it's fine. I've got it." I can't make the idea any simpler than that one. Aspergers. food sensitivities. And dark skin. In this white-washed and clouded world, the greatest odds are for drowning. Like being on a slave ship, and being thrown overboard. That's our United States. Except it's 2015. And there's always an impossible chance for survival. The heaviest weights had to be cut loose. The skilled artisan can correct errors in growth or establisment. Or decide to start anew. My hands are [indeterminate] and my reputation as an artisan is [unfounded]. But I have the same options. The one where I find myself with the greatest opportunity for unskilled success and training is in beginning fresh. So clean slate. No friends. Extra selfish. Fewer apologies. Less bowing. I don't know how long I can keep it up. But I know how long I can try. The actuarial tables, as I like to call statistical charts of self-divined credibility, tell me that I will live for 50 years more. Unless I'm female. Or transgendered. Or nonwhite. Or non-conforming in many better known ways. Time to cut myself free of comfort, and pursue existence.

[darknesshathcome-blog]

Follow The Drinking Gourd

I'm sick of it. Was. I was sick of it. And now I'm something else. Something... Exasperated. Resolved. I may not be able to make my way in this country as well as others, but I can live trying. Dying is easy. Living with happiness is... spiteful? It feels spiteful, but maybe that's just my programming.