Marco Ze Blog

Once, strolling through a farmer’s market in Rennes, France I came upon an unexpected sight: a fruit & vegetable stand with a heap of cactus figs. I told myself this was definitely something worth photographing, so I took my camera out. The stand’s vendor found this amusing; he leaned-in to be in the picture and waved at the camera. I told the vendor that the fruit I had just taken a picture of (known in France as figue de barbarie), was originally from my native Mexico; he smiled, we shook hands and I continued on my stroll.

This was the very first time I became aware of the fact that cactus figs (also known as Indian figs) were eaten in countries outside of Mexico. I always thought of both cactus figs and the prickly pear cactus or Opuntia (which bears cactus figs) as quintessentially Mexican. Both are, after all, part of Mexico’s coat of arms and an important part of traditional Mexican meals. Another indication of the importance of the prickly pear cactus (and its products) in Mexican identity can be found in pop culture. In this domain, the word nopal (the stem segments of the prickly pear cactus) is playfully used to denote Mexicaness. Some examples of this use are the rock & blues band Heavy Nopal as well as the music label Nopal Beat Records.

The prickly pear cactus is native to Mexico, but it can be found throughout the world. In fact, there are countries (other than Mexico) where this cactus has become a strong part of people’s identities, and perhaps the best example of this is Israel. According to wikipedia, in this country “the cactus fig is called tzabar... This is the origin of the slang term sabra for a native-born Israeli Jew …The word is… related to the Arabic word for aloe/cactus, "sabr," which means patience. The allusion is to a tenacious, thorny desert plant with a thick hide that conceals a sweet, softer interior, i.e., rough and masculine on the outside, but delicate and sensitive on the inside.”

Another good example of how the prickly pear cactus has become a part of national identity (albeit briefly), is the case of Malta. According to wikipedia “The 1975-1988 version of the coat of arms of Malta … featured an opuntia.”

While the prickly pear cactus is an important part of proud national identity in some parts of the world, in others it is viewed in a negative light. Perhaps the prime example of this is Australia. A paragraph extracted from North West Weeds, an Australian government website, speaks for itself.

“Prickly pear is in our history books as one of the most invasive weeds ever imported into Australia. It had a devastating impact on life in rural eastern Australia during the early part of the 20th century. Special acts of Parliament were passed to enforce control measures in an attempt to halt its spread through Queensland and New South Wales”

http://www.northwestweeds.nsw.gov.au/prickly_pear_history.htm

However, one could suspect that the presence of Opuntia in Australia has been two-fold. This, since according to a journal article by Jeffrey C. Kaufmann (Ethnology, Vol. 43, 2004) “Sheep and cattle ranchers in Australia have colonized dry lands by feeding prickly pear to their stock”. Actually, it appears that the prickly pear cactus has played an important role in agriculture throughout the world. Kaufmann’s article is in fact titled “Prickly Pear Cactus and Pastoralism in Southwest Madagascar”, and it describes how cattle raisers have adopted several species of the prickly pear cactus into their subsistence patterns. This article also mentions how Opuntia has been used in Italy, Senegal and different parts of North Africa for hedging to act as a barrier against the elements.

I recently discovered that cactus fencing is also used in California. Some months ago, I went on a road trip with a friend from Chile (country where by the way, cactus figs are eaten with abandon). As we drove through wine country we spotted some prickly pear cacti on the side of the road and pulled over to steal some of its delicious fruit. The row of cacti had clearly been placed there to deter people from going into the vineyard below the road, but we had no interest in grapes. My friend, a skilled cactus fig hunter, got to work by carefully knocking the fruit to the ground with the aid of a rock. Then we both painstakingly rolled the bounty on the ground to remove its fine thorns. Unknowingly and absentmindedly we were both participating in a ritual many people throughout the world must practice everyday: standing by a prickly pear fence, stealing its delicious fruit.