William S. Burroughs' Ah Pook Is Here

William S. Burroughs' Ah Pook Is Here

by Armando Ortiz

This short film came to life via the collaboration of William S. Burroughs' recording of Ah Pook Is Here, which he wrote, and artist Philip Hunt, who made the book come alive with this short film. William S. Burroughs (February 1914-August 1997) is considered one of the great writers of the 20th century and one of the main creative forces behind the Beat Generation.

This is a fascinating critique of power and its uses. Burroughs uses Mayan gods as examples/representatives of contemporary symbols of war and destruction, without changing what pre-Hispanic societies believed these symbols to be. Rarely does one get the opportunity to find literature that includes Meso-American or Native American cosmology/myth in contemporary American culture discourse. I define American culture as being the collective cultures of North, Central and South American societies, which is like a multi-colored quilt of varying patterns and designs.This collective culture includes the cultures that existed in the Americas before its "discovery", and yes, this would include the Norsemen of Newfoundland, and all the European groups, along with African groups, as well Middle Eastern, and Asian groups that settled the Americas. The collective experiences shared by those born in these lands are closely linked with weather, geography and environment. Therefore to not look at what former societies perceived to be good and bad or what their beliefs were in these lands, is like ignoring the fact that water comes from our local mountains. It is essential to always be looking for ways to look at our contemporary life from different perspectives via History, Anthropology and Philosophy. Burroughs does a fantastic job at combining all those elements into his short writing. Never forget that the roads we walk on or drive on were walked on by others thousands of years ago. Enjoy.

Juan Rulfo’s World of Fiction

Juan Rulfo's World of Fiction

by Armando Ortiz

I thought I knew about Latin American writers. I’ve read Borges, Garcia Marquez, Neruda, and Paz. Of course I am also sort of familiar with some Central American writers like, Asturias, and Dalton. In reality though, my knowledge of Latin American writers is limited. So when the opportunity arose to read a Roberto Bolano book I thought it would be a good thing to do. He was from Chile and I‘d never read a novel from a Chilean author. Reading his material it became evident of how ignorant I am to the world of Latin American literature of which I have yet to seriously explore.

Juan Rulfo (1917-1986)

I have only read a small fraction of the works that exist in this world and have yet to read Joyce, Dante, Shelley and Shakespeare. After finishing 2666, I decided look up information on Rulfo. I got the chance to speak to an acquaintance, Arnoldo, who is very familiar with Latin American writers. It was through him that I discovered Marquez and aside from literature he also reads lots of science related material. In our discussion regarding Rulfo he told me that there was one particular character found in Rulfo’s book of short stories, El Llano En Llamas, that stood out, Lucas Lucatero. I was intrigued and wanted to know more about this writer whom I’d never heard of or read. According to Arnoldo, reading his stories gave one the feeling of walking on dusty roads.

Rulfo stands amongst the great short story writers of all time. He will be read for many years to come, and hopefully more people will come to discover his stories. What I found particularly appealing about Rulfo’s writing was the manner in which he describes the life of poor peasants.

Mexican Revolution (1910-1920)

The poor, without taking into account the social and economic forces behind poverty, are his main focus. Yes, the stories take place after a time period of great violence; The Mexican Revolution (1910-1920) and the Cristero Wars (1926-1929), but poverty is the environment from where his stories emerge, and poverty has existed in societies for hundreds of years. For Rulfo, the violence he describes are not bad dreams or an unknown realm, but are recent experiences deeply personal and intimate. Violence, was and still is very common in Latin America, even now as we speak violence is happening. One thing to remember though, violence is relative and can happen anywhere. However, there are parts of the world where lawlessness exists, but it seems that the proclivity for violence by people is higher in places where access to fire weapons is readily available, which is a chronic reality in Mexico and Central America, and where lawlessness and corruption permeate society.

Cristero Rebels (1926-1929)

Juan Rulfo was an author that wrote one collection of short stories, El Llano En Llamas (The Burning Plain and other short stories) and one short novel, Pedro Paramo. His whole written canon is made up of two books. There is another book that was made, but that’s a collection of photographs that he took throughout Mexico. He was born in Jalisco, Mexico and for a number of years was raised by nuns in an orphanage located Guadalajara, the province’s capital city. Despite these misfortunes Rulfo managed to study accounting and went on to be a successful author and salesman. He received a prize that enabled him to dedicate some time to writing.

After publishing his only novel output ceased and he embarked on a journey with photography. Reading his works one easily gets lost in the web that is woven by his prose which becomes magical inside the minds of readers. His descriptions and emotions blend to become enigmatic of what word play should be and are a template for good writing.

In Juan Rulfo’s world people are always coming and going. Going to places unknown and never seen before, while others are coming from locations with strange names and sites where prayers go unheard. Characters are always passing through towns where the inhabitants seem more like wandering spirits in purgatory than real people with real concerns. In his stories people have condemned themselves or have earned the condemnation of others. Though not spoken, each character’s perception, hand gestures, physical movements and journeys to certain places indicate their destiny. Fate in a sense has become an individual’s collective decision and collective future. Bandits are shot at night in the middle of a robbery. Murders are swept away in torrential rains or are relegated to haunt towns forever.



Choices that were made at a time of heated passion, anger and depression become part of the condemnation. Death becomes imbued with sentimentality and regret. Revenge almost completes the cycle of justice but the circle is never really closed, leaving the door open to more misfortune. Incest brings about hidden desires and outward shows of affection towards the dead through hollow rituals.

Rulfo’s world takes place in a time of unrelenting violence, rape and pillage. The poor travel by foot or donkey, while the rich gallop around in horses. In the scenarios he creates, ghosts are condemned to carry fire wood on their backs on a path that leads to no where- forever. Horse riders become the embodiment of the pale horse rider found in the Book of Revelation, and are not given the sacred sacraments from the priests to enter heaven. Salvation is inches away but never acquired. No one is immune to the sins of humanity, and to the consequences of violence. Heaven has become a mirage that exists only in delirious dreams.

Life, in his imagination, takes place in small towns where rivers are streams of water that feed the wild weeds. There is hardly any water that’s drinkable, irrigating the cornfields is a precarious endeavor, and the fruit that is harvested isn’t sweet. Bitter, is the taste life. When the rains come, which are downpours, streams transform into rivers capable of taking small adobe homes down canyons and arroyos, and the possessions of poverty stricken families; a cow, a pair of pigs and occasionally a relative; are washed away. Life is harsh, but nature seems to be the cruelest of them all.

The sun hangs, like an old clothes iron that one fills with hot coals, over the heads of everyone. When it rains it pours and when it pours the tears of his characters’ eyes flow as fast as the savage rivers. The sky is blue, and lifeless. Even in the oppressive heat the sky remains cold and silent. The winds walk down corridors like lost children at the mall, wailing for something. Waking life becomes an itch that has no origins and no cure for it can be found. Sleep becomes torturous, because the weather is uncomfortable and secrets can’t get lost in the darkness. Night quickly disappears and the rising sun quickly wakes everyone one up from their slumber. Superstition becomes an outlet for hope where there is none. Saints bleed tears of remorse, because no god exists within the lines of Rulfo’s stories. With the unrelenting heat of the dangling sun and the trampling of dirt roads, dust rises. The floating sand particles enter through the mouth and nostrils of the characters making breathing, even for the reader, difficult. Life is tough.



His world revolves around violence. Exploitation is a byword for the impunity by which people live bye. Killers that escape are condemned by their own crimes and their sleep becomes one where ghost talk and victims scream at night. Violence becomes the accepted norm, blood the sacred liquid that is supposed to cleanse, just gets coagulated with dust, dirt and sweat infecting the body. The sick are relegated to sweat it out in their own mental sweat lodge, and cling on to the hope of going to the bigger town to pray to the holier relic. Virgin statuettes shed tears that are artificially placed on its eyes by priests in the morning. Idol’s hands spread like branches accepting all, listening to the incoherent cries of believers. Carved dolls cannot see mourners because of the thick incense smoke and their own wooden eyes are blind to injustice. Rulfo, in essence walks the reader through the Valley of Death and tells them that the journey never ends because even after death spirits wander in his stories in their own hell. Infinity is not something worth talking about or worth discussing because the present moment is too bleak and death so certain. Its just a matter of time before we once again wake up and have to deal with the realities of life.

Despite the suffering that many of his characters live through, every one of them wishes to keep on living. Suffering, everyone goes through it, everyone in life carries a cross, and complains about the vicissitudes of life, but when the times comes to confront death everyone tries to run away. Like Antonius Block, the Crusader in Bergman’s The Seventh Seal, they try play chess against death and make excuses to prolong the game. Wishing to hold on to life a bit longer, the sweetness of sautéed onions with garlic and olive becomes delectable to them. Morning toil becomes dawn’s morning glory. The gun to their temple makes his characters kneel down and beg for life. Any how, this existence is rough but also bearable.

In a way we see the complexity of life through Rulfo’s writing. He reveals that humans have physical desires ranging from sexual to the unknown desire to steal. Along with other needs like love, nurture, hunger and compassion. In his writing humans also have a spirit. Spirits that at times depend on the blessings of priests, blessings that money can and cannot buy. Individuals that have to be forgiven but are not, and people that want to be forgiven for crimes committed. Everyone at some point wants to be forgiven for something. Remorse, even in death, is what many spirits continue to carry.

All images were taken by J. Rulfo except for his portrait and two that have captions.

Growing up in Los Angeles (Part Three): Stained Glass Windows

Part 3: Stained Glass Windows

By Armando Ortiz

One never really thinks of the events that are happening before one’s eyes. It's as if one is performing on the world stage, yet not conscious. We only become aware of the fact after several years have passed. This was the case for Pedro, who even after 20 years of having seen the events that are about to be described never gave it much thought, but dispensed of the memories like any other event. He was at the Getty museum visiting for the first time and was impressed at the amount of religious artifacts that were on exhibit. Upon entering the hall that contained Medieval art brought back a flood of memories that surprised him to say the least. At least that is how it seemed, but maybe these past events in conjunction with a series of religious symbols had a stronger and more profound effect on his unconscious.

When Pedro was a kid his dad volunteered the family to work in the restoration of an old church building that had been recently purchased by the congregation of which they were members. Being the son of a carpenter meant that he would be doing some painting, some cleaning and some looking around. There were many rooms on the second floor of the church, and every room had one or two stained glass windows that could be slightly opened. One could look down the side of the building from these windows, and see the bricks that made up the outer wall of the church. To the north of the building was an alley, and to the south was the main entrance. There were two entrances actually, one to the west and the other to the east, nevertheless they all faced south.

Stained glass windows, he’d never seen stained glass windows up close, and when he saw pieces of it on the ground thought that if improperly picked up the pieces would cut his fingers. He soon discovered that the crimson pieces that were found on the floor were made of plastic and not glass. The pieces being part of the church obviously carried an aura of sacredness, but even these pieces had to be thrown away. Most of the colors were like that hard candy that we love to eat as little kids. Jolly Ranchers are solid candies, made up of primary colors that taste sour, sweet, and tangy. Except that the stained glass was just plastic, that’s all it was. But looking at the windows he felt like he was actually seeing a mosaic of hard candy colors made to fit a puzzle. This puzzle was placed on an opening of a wall, filtering the outside light that entered the inside of the sanctuary. There was something about that observation that made him think that stained glass windows were as sacred as a cross. The alley had many pieces of this stained glass and for some reason most of it was raspberry red. All over the edge of the wall that faced the alley the ground was littered with raspberry red plastic.

Occasionally some boys showed up on the side of the church that faced the alley. They would meet up in the afternoons and just hang out and write on the walls with spray paint. Breaking open the empty paint cans used for their graffiti they would inhale whatever fumes were inside and get high. Sometimes they’d be seen drinking old Schlitz 40oz bottles, and after emptying them of beer would start throwing them on the ground. It was suspected that they’d broken the windows of the basement, but it was only a guess and no one ever confronted them, and besides the building had been empty when it was purchased.

In the alley where the kids congregated was an old burned out car that was all tagged up. It seemed like the car had been there forever. It was incinerated, lacking windows, and doors. Only the metal skeleton of the car revealed that it had once been driven and abandoned there. The seats of the unknown car had been pulled out and placed by the wall, and some of the leaders would sit on them and get plastered. The kids would smoke whatever they smoked and ride around the alley on their bikes. The alley was their secret get away where they could get intoxicated and hang out. It must have been their escape from the reality of the outside world. Amongst the ruins of a post apocalyptic scene they found an embryonic solace that most likely was not available at home. Yet this solace was found next to a church, which they probably assumed was not being used.

Growing up in Los Angeles (Part Two): Outlines

Part 2: Outlines

By Armando Ortiz

Another memory that comes to mind, when the citipati comes out and circles around my mind, is the sudden appearance of two images in the middle of the playground of our elementary school. Our school didn’t have a grassy area, it was just one long asphalt field where kids played basketball, tetherball, kickball and other games. In the summer the black playground seemed to radiate more heat than the sun’s rays. The images resembled astronauts spacewalking, suspended in space, like the image of the first cosmonauts that orbited the earth. In between these two images was something that we believed to be a light-saber, like the ones used in the space wars film.

The unnatural beings appeared to be suspended in mid flight within a petrol background, giving the impression that time had suddenly stopped for the astronauts. Space, in this case, was where we played kickball. A black lake of asphalt with solid yellow lines indicating where kids lined up in the mornings and played during the day. Outlines, these were the only remnants the travelers had left behind, as if the black grounds had made them disappear.  The ground was hard, and we ran from one end to the other. We stepped on the outlines and bounced the basketball over the images for days, weeks and months until the rubber of our soles and soccer balls finally made them disappear. Those that had laid there were no longer present, leaving behind a cookie cutter image of themselves. Maybe it had been kids writing on the ground, dreaming and drawing what they would be when they grew up, space explorers. Similar to the assignment every kid gets by outlining one’s body on a piece of paper, cutting it out and drawing in personal details.

Who had been outlined on our playground and why hadn’t the markings been removed soon afterward is something that I ask myself. Why did these images give the impression that they were men in space, lethargically moving and floating in a cold environment that very few people get to experience. Is death an experience so individual and so haunting that even as a child I ignored it and believed that quite possibly these images were of two people break dancing to the music that was popular back then. For a long time my naïve mind wasn’t able to conceptualize what the white outlines were. Looking back now I realize that this was a crime outline of two people who had lost their lives on our playground.

Across the street from the school was a house that was covered with evergreen vines, and everyone in our class thought it was not only haunted but kept by a solitary strange lady. We’d heard that an old lady lived inside. Next to our school was also an abandoned house that sheltered occasional vagrants and unknown people. Strange things were said to happen inside that house, things that as kids we didn't want to dwell too much on, like wandering spirits and those that loved the night. These residential areas were creepier and haunting than the images that had been aero-soled on the ground. We thought twice about going near those places, yet we didn’t care if the outlines were possibly of two people who had been characters in a real life game of Street Fighter. 

These images revealed things that kids were too young to understand, the increasing problems that the city was facing was one part. What kept us preoccupied most back then was going to recess, eating lunch and playing with our buddies. After school we all went back home and watched cartoons. Occasionally stopping to look at the supposedly haunted houses next to the school. It was believed that at night screams could be heard from the empty house. From the outside we could see the acronyms sprayed on the walls of the house and the nicknames of unknown ghosts painted on the stairs, names like Spooky, Tecolote, and Sombra. Everything seemed to exist in the magical realms of cartoon reality and primitive necessity. The perceived unknown was familiar to us, like a gun fight taking place in front of our homes, and the stories told by parents and what we saw on the screens brought fear to our thoughts, like the wicked witch of the east.

Growing up in Los Angeles (Part One): Drawings

Part 1: Drawings

By Armando Ortiz

Memories of my elementary school years suddenly dance out from the hidden catacombs of the mind, like citipati. Salsa or Cumbias are not emanating from the bowels of my subconscious; it’s more like simple ritual dances meant to honor the moon and ancient spirits. Images seen with the eyes but not lived or experienced become more and more haunting as I become older, and at times can only understand or explain things under the hypnotic rattling coming from an old tortoise rattle. 

I was in the second grade, and on a particular day was drawing on a notebook. A bunch of buddies of mine were drawing spaceships and rockets.  Each one had their own notebook or piece of paper to draw their image. One of them, who was from El Salvador, kept drawing some strange things. We found it strange the way he drew his bombs, and couldn’t pinpoint what were the things drawn or how those instruments could be used. Generally speaking, projectiles with bombs flew to the heavens, but this was different. The drawing he made looked like pointy dreidel tops that are used for games where one spins the tops, and instead of having markings that told the player what they had won after the spinning had stopped his bombs were left blank. There was no reason to draw these funny looking things, but that is beside the point. The point is that it created vexation amongst us because it couldn’t be identified; maybe I was the only one from the group that was unable to see the meaning behind what the kid drew. 

I remember asking him, “What are those things?,” and he replied with a blank stare, “Bombs.”

“Bombs?,” I replied with an incredulous wave of intonation.

“Yes,” he said.

The only images I had of bombs back then were of dynamite sticks that resembled large firecrackers. Big red dynamite sticks that had ACME plastered on the sides and came out in cartoon programs. The missiles that projected out of the television were always shooting up to the heavens. Interestingly these missiles, as they were drawn by me were always pointing up or passing through clouds.  I recall going back to my desk and drawing a version of what proper bombs looked like to show him, drawing them all cool and explaining to him how real bombs went up and how sometimes if they were made of gunpowder its fuse could be lit with a match. Dynamite sticks could also be turned into rudimentary rockets that could be ridden, like the coyote who was always chasing the roadrunner.

Almost anything that was related to bombs or missiles always went up into the heavens, hypnotizing audiences across the US while in other places bombs were falling projectiles that struck their target. On the other hand, here in the states we were busy stargazing, looking up at the shooting rockets or at stars that came out on television every day. Living a reality that was carefree and easy going and detached from the life of those that were migrating to the US, more specifically Los Angeles. 

Our classmate had escaped a civil war. His depictions of bombs were based on his personal experiences. What he drew were actual hand grenade sticks, RPGs and mortar shells that had fallen on people from his neighborhood, ammunition that he’d seen guerrillas and government forces carry by the loads. The bombs he drew actually fell, landed and blew up, bursting with loud bangs, giving sudden roars, raining showers of blood, brains and dirt. Unlike the coyote though, people that survived a bomb explosion rarely continued going about their business or had a quick recovery like he had.

Kids born in the US had no idea what war was, and what real bombs were. We were in second grade, it was the mid-1980s, and the Civil Wars in Central America were at its peak. People from El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua and Guatemala were flooding the streets of Los Angeles, more specifically Alvarado and Pico. They hadn’t had time to recover from the violence that was happening around them, but quickly left those places, and unlike the Coyote didn’t fully resume with their daily lives. It was during an era of Michael Jackson, Madonna, Pink Floyd, and Guns n Roses were at the top of the pop charts. The War on Drugs against urban centers and the poor was just beginning to take effect. Punky Brewster hadn’t had her breast reduction and Gary Coleman was being swindled by his own family. We were growing up in fast times, gazing up into the heaven looking at stars, and at school playing kickball at recess and tetherball for lunch was our main concern.

Genetically Modified Oragnism: Rice and Future Implications on Culture

Vienes caminando

y no sabes tu destino

coquistando suenos

suenas llegar a ser deidad

Sigues caminando

sobre viejos territorios

invocando fuerzas

que jamas entenderas

Y vienes desde alla

donde no sale el sol

donde no hay calor

donde la sangre

nunca se sacrifico por un amor

pero aqua no es asi

Vienes caminandp

ignorando sagrados ritos

pisoteando sabios templos

de amor espiritual

Largas vidas siguen 

velando el sueno de un volcan

para un alma eternal

cada piedra es un altar

Y vienes desde alla

donde no sale el sol donde no hay calor

donde la sangre 

nunca se sacrifico por un amor

pero aqua no es asi

- Saul Hernandez, Caifanes

The vulture was perched on the highest branch of a ceiba tree, the eagle spotted him and flew toward the branch landing besides the vulture. They began to talk about things past and present. Then the eagle asked, “Why do you like eating dead animals, and things that are decomposing?,” The vulture replied, “Well, why do you like to kill your prey?”

-Central America folk tale.

Genetically Modified Organism: Rice and Future Implications on Culture

Introduction

Rice is one of the most important staple grains we have on this world, and almost every country consumes rice.  Science is a leading source of answers to the problems people have in our modern times. We rely on science to improve our lives. It was not until recently though that science drastically altered the evolutionary process of rice. For centuries, people depended on this grain so much so that in some parts of Asia ideas and folk beliefs evolved from the harvesting and production of rice.

Rice is grown in hot places where shallow marshes are located, and where water is abundant. There is an estimated one hundred twenty thousand rice seeds in the world. There are many categories from which to study rice production, ranging from the methods of cultivation, the use of fertilizers, ways of storing rice, milling and controlling the economic value of harvested rice. 

There are four simple steps involved in the process of harvesting rice, and these are “(1) planting the seeds, (2) the flooding of rice, (3) the maintenance required during growth stage, and (4) the reaping of the harvest” (Grist).  In between these important steps are many other steps that involve the production of a plentiful rice harvest, such as the use of fertilizers, insecticides, and the amount of water used in rice fields. 

Scientifically improving the quality of rice for better harvest yields and increasing its nutritional value affected traditional ways of harvesting. For centuries, farmers used rudimentary methods to inter breed rice with other types of rice, slowly creating a better quality rice. However, a few decades back, with the increasing dependence of petroleum products and the rapidly growing population scientist replaced simple age old ways of harvesting rice by developing insecticides to kill off pests that lived off rice and apparently helping farmers have greater yields. 

Rice is mostly grown in Southeast Asia, mainly to support its own population. The US is a big exporter of rice and has had a significant scientific impact on the quality of rice strains. In the past, growers saved their seeds from their harvests and used them to replant the seeds the following year. However, we have become so involved in the process of rice production that new super-seeds are being made, but these seeds and other scientific advancements do more harm than good. In addition to the ecological impact, these super seeds make farmers dependant on the producers of these genetically modified seeds. The farmer no longer depends on nature for the seeds, but on companies that manufacture the seeds. Companies such as Monsanto, sell agricultural products that are useful to farmers but dangerous to the environment.

The obstacle for some companies is not the use of insecticides to control pests, but how to get the greatest output from the little land available, and a preoccupation on monopolizing their newest discovery. This is the reason why “genetically enhanced” seeds appear to be the solution to this increasing problem. Currently, the entire production of rice in the world is six hundred seventy eight million tons, but it must increase to eight hundred eighty million tons of rice by 2025 in order to feed the earth’s population.


A Bit of Historical Background
Rice seeds native to certain geographical areas of the world have evolved natural defenses unique to their environment. For example, in West Africa rice grows with very little water and through time, have evolved natural defenses that protect it from heat and periodic drought. With the evolution of human cultures and further development of agricultural techniques people began to crossbreed seeds from different regions. Crossbreeding is a simple form of modifying seeds genetically that man used in the past to create new seeds for climates where other seeds would never grow. This continued for many centuries until we reached the twentieth century.

Thirty years ago, Asia had to double its rice production because of overpopulation. Different kinds of tests were done, like altering water levels to see optimal growing conditions. Soon it was discovered that it was better to keep water levels low for rice to grow and become strong, thus producing considerably more yields than high water levels. Cross breeding became more refined  and quicker, which produced a new seed strain which was strong and could “generate a greater harvest”(Ecos).

Today, most rice is harvested with the use of chemicals. According to manufacturers insecticides aids rice by killing “natural predators,” such as “beetles, grasshoppers, caterpillars, snails and worms” (Grist 290). The Monsanto company claims:

                   “Integrated pest management, conservation tillage, chemistry and biology applied in concert can increase yields, improve the quality of our food and save our soil, Monsato’s contributions to food production can and will meet the requirements of sustainable agriculture to provide for basic human food and fiber needs, enrich the quality of our lives, preserve natural resources, enhance environmental quality and ensure the economic viability of farming,” (Monsanto).

Some tests reveal that where insecticides are used, “larvae were significantly more abundant in the no-insecticide plots, but numbers were not related to a yield difference”(U.S. 52). Genetically engineered seeds, like insecticides, fight against disease and insects offering resistance to pollution and water levels, but both alter the ecosystems and most of the time the genetically modified seeds that are harvested are sterile, only good for one harvest and nothing else.

Organic harvesting disregards insecticides or any other chemicals and allows insects to live. Masajo, interviewed by Ecos magazine, believes that “ insects control insects” that would otherwise kill or destroy the rice plant. He also states, “All animals must be preserved, no matter how harmful a ‘pest’ might be perceived, because any reduction in biodiversity ultimately will damage the quality of human life”(Ecos). Organic harvesting not only promotes a diversified ecological cycle but also creates a healthy food cycle. Masajo also said,  “Yes, there are insects in my crops. Yes, there is some visible damage to foliage. But this doesn’t translate automatically to an economic cost, to a detrimental impact on yield” (Reinventing).
Using genetically modified rice benefit us in many ways, but nature’s equilibrium is drastically altered with these seeds. Scientific intervention in rice harvesting and other areas of agriculture has had a great impact. Livestock used to till the land, and animals raised for human consumption have not been immune to science and the industrial companies that promote their antibiotics and steroids. So far these advancements although good, have created scenarios where serious ramifications might arise for not properly understanding how some companies are drastically altering the earth’s ecology for the worse.

Effects on Nature and Humans

Chemicals in the insecticides kill insects affecting the ecology of nature at the micro level, which is a vital source of food for other creatures. The natural ecological cycle serves as a symbiotic defense mechanism for rice and other harvested grains. Birds eat bugs that live in the rice fields, which have eaten other insects that destroy the rice. However, when insecticides such as “DDT, carbon bisulphide, BHC, chloropicrin” and other products are introduced into the harvesting process, this delicate cycle is broken, causing insects to disappear (Grist 291) . As one insect disappears so do other kinds until they have all disappeared, forcing birds to migrate to other areas where there is food. In addition to birds, predators begin to leave their surrounding areas, and move to habitats where they don’t belong.

One approach to this problem is the development of an improved seed which doesn’t need the aid of insecticides or chemical agents to grow and produce large numbers of seeds. These seeds have a defense mechanism, so that they can be “drought resistant and pest resistant” (Reinventing). Seeds that were going to Bangladesh probably can be made to be flood tolerant. These new seeds can be made to produce in virtually any kind of environment, but instead big companies have decided to take it a step further by creating seeds that are genetically altered, and their seeds end up producing a sterile harvest making farmers dependant on their product.

Scientist have created new seeds using “more than 100,000 samples of rice” that are stored in large inventories (Reinventing). From these seeds, companies such as the International Rice Research Institute construct super seeds by using genes gathered from rice already growing under harsh conditions like West African seeds.

The Monsanto Company is one of the first to create similar type of seeds, and have filed “patent applications in several countries” (Kluger). Patents are important to a company like Monsanto because it prevents other countries and companies from copying their seeds or even replanting them. These patents make a company richer because they have a monopoly over seeds. Monsanto seeds can produce so much that the harvester would gain enough money to buy seeds the following year since these new seeds are sterile after one harvest season.

The way Monsanto produces “sterile seeds” is: (1) taking a seed-killing toxin from another plant and then inserting it in the genome of rice, (2) they add a blocker in order to keep the toxin dormant until exposed to an enzyme that removes the blocker, (3) the seed is planted and begins to grow. Finally, the toxin is produced and sterilizes the seeds. These new seeds cannot be combined with other seeds, making the farmers dependent on this type of rice. These seeds still harm the environment where buyers grow their new rice, as Kluger states in his article, “the company has also developed plants with a built-in toxin that is harmless to humans but lethal to insects”(Kluger).

For the past several years, the population of the world has been growing rapidly, through industrialization and other technological advancements drastically altering age old ceremonies that revolved around the planting and harvesting of rice. In addition, to the concerns that this paper is focused on, animals are also being injected with antibiotics and steroids to apparently immunize animals from potential diseases, and to extend the use of particular animals used for tilling the land, further degrading the natural cycle.

Culture of Rice and Harvesting

For centuries, Chinese planted and harvested rice that fed lots of people, and the process of harvesting deeply affected their culture. Aijmer, author of the Dragon Boat Festival says, “The concern of the whole community and the participation of the officials in the ceremony should be connected with this communal interest” (112).  For Chinese, the Dragon Boat Festival was a ceremony closely linked with planting and harvesting that was “concerned mainly with the cultivation of rice”(Aijmer 13). They did not have control over the harvest but something greater was in control. It was thought that ancestors lived in the spiritual realms and their ceremonies guided the “rain-producing lung dragon” to the rice fields via the help of ancestors (Aijmer 112). The symbiotic relationship between the divine and mundane realities was acknowledged through the ceremony. A connection with “the transplantation of rice” and the dead existed and was recognized in the Dragon Boat Festival (Aijmer 108). In the past, there weren’t as many people living on the earth as there are today making it possible to reap plentiful harvests. There was always a balance between nature and man or at least there existed an attempt to keep a balance with nature.

Genetic engineering is leading us into a new era of agricultural and social change where, in order to survive, we have to compromise with what is available and what nature allows us to create. Humanity is reaching a point where it is no longer in balance with nature. We are exhausting the land of its resources, trying to get as much out of it as we can, and in the process seeds that have been used for thousands of years are now quickly disappearing from the face of the earth. Human intervention in nature will not magically solve population and harvest yield problems. There will certainly be ramifications, one example of these problems is that some countries can not compete against countries that use genetically modified seeds, while at the same time the pollen of these super seeds kill off the naturally occurring seeds of staple grains. We have developed super-seeds that can kill insects and still produce “high volumes” of rice in very limited areas of land, and in some cases, we use insecticides to kill insects that are vital to the food cycle in order to reap a greater harvest. We are continually destroying nature’s balance to meet our needs, and still expect more from the land.

It seems perfectly logical to follow this course of living, but in reality, this is not healthy. Nature has already placed its boundaries and we have reached them. Instead of accepting reality as some ancient people seem to have done, we become arrogant and refuse to accept the destruction and dangerous cycle that is being made. Mother earth is the source of all creation and almost everything here is composed of carbon, oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen. There is always an imbalance of things but this imbalance is always fluctuating from one extreme to the other. Currently, humans are on one side of the extreme that’s heavily exploiting and demanding much from nature, and eventually, nature will restore that balance, whether through our own destructiveness or ignorance. We are now living in a period of time where aside genetically modified seeds being used for agriculture, antibiotics and steroids are being given to animals we use for agriculture and consume on a daily basis. Now, when there are outbreaks of e coli or foot and mouth disease the viruses are also stronger and tougher to eliminate precisely because what we have thought was good for some few businesses has turned out detrimental to more people. 

Older cultures on this earth had an understanding of the balance that needs to exist, and it is seen through the ceremonies they performed before and after planting rice and other staple foods. They wanted approval from their ancestors and their gods in order to have a good harvest. Whether their beliefs about their ancestors and gods were true or not they knew they could only do so much to ensure a good harvest. Constraining nature will only make it harder to grow healthy crops, because we need to submit to nature’s boundaries and keep the balance that is necessary for insects and humans to live. We will be eating unnatural food that has anti-pollutant, anti-insect, and anti-disease genes. Cases have already been found where cows injected with antibiotics and steroids, after dying severely affect the cycle and kill other animals, like the vultures which are sacred in some cultures. In his article Brittenden states, “Ancient rites of farmers to save their plants may soon become a thing of the past. Science is threatening a farming practice as old as agriculture itself” (Brittenden). The technological advancements in rice production is making us forget that we once depended on nature to stay alive. Farmers planted and waited for nature to do its work. We can’t have control of rice yields and its surrounding environments, therefore we cannot intervene with a process that has existed for many years. Some maize strains have been genetically altered, and now in the US only two types of maize are grown, sweet corn and industrial corn. We went from growing several types of corn ranging from small cobs, multi-colored corn, small and big kernels to two types of corn, eighty five percent of which is genetically modified. 

Memory and ceremony cannot be linked to giant industrial companies, they should not be allowed to have control over basic things that humans have practiced through out time. A collective memory of harvesting and raising animals is being shattered to pieces. In ancient times cultures had various types of gods that had their origins in agricultural production, god of wine and excess, the god maize, the god of rain, and currently we have this concept of mother earth which is being quickly replaced with father scientist and mother chemical factory.