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Le coin à Meche

Mercredi 27 janvier 2010 3 27 /01 /2010 15:09

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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.

Par Meche - Publié dans : Le coin à Meche
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Jeudi 15 octobre 2009 4 15 /10 /2009 18:09

A few years ago I heard that a release of Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past in graphic novel form had stirred up a lot of controversy; something about how a great classic should not be relegated to the lowly ranks of pop culture. While I am not the biggest fan of the graphic novel (for example, I don’t collect them or attend comic book conferences), I do like them. I think they can be an excellent vehicle for introducing audiences to both literature and history, and a good tool for sparking interest in these topics. Perhaps more than anything else, I have a fondness for graphic novels since they were a part of my childhood.

In my childhood home in Mexico, one thing we always had in abundance were reading materials. We had everything from comic books of various different kinds (Wonder Woman, The Spirit, La familia Burrón), novels, magazines, newspapers and reference books. Children’s books ranged from standard fairy tales to stories where two young sisters rescued a herd of sheep from a blizzard, becoming their town’s heroines.

In the graphic novel department we had adaptations of both Oscar Wilde’s The Portrait of Dorian Gray and Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart. We also had several tomes of a collection of Mexican history in comic book form. As a child I spent many hours immersed in these publications, which at a young age transported me to places where murders were committed, hearts beat under wooden floors, revolutions were planned, hilarious stories were told, and sheep were valiantly saved. Watching the recently released DVD of the movie Persepolis, I went back in time to this childhood of rich visuals, captivating story lines, unforgettable characters and sometimes violent scenarios.

Persepolis, an animated film based on the graphic novel / memoir by the same name, tells the story of Iranian author Marjane Satrapi’s childhood and adolescence. I loved this film for various reasons. First off, its old-school animation (everything was drawn by hand) gave it a warmth that is hard to come by in animation nowadays. Also, the style of the movie’s drawings brought to mind several beloved publications from my childhood. The film’s aesthetics were reminiscent of the naïve style of drawing found in the comic book Mafalda, along with touches of the type of illustrations found in Antoine de Saint Exupery’s The Little Prince. Also, certain drawings in this movie strongly reminded me of visual elements found in traditional Chinese children’s books such as The Monkey King.

Besides its aesthetics, I also liked this film because it’s peppered with pop culture references from the eighties, the decade during which I came of age. Ultimately though, what made me like this movie the most is its story about an iconoclastic (and sometimes quirky) family. The film effortlessly combines the personal and the political, as it narrates the adversities a family must face due to the ever changing political landscape of their home country.

Watching the movie Persepolis, which has a story line composed mainly of flashbacks, I couldn’t help but be pulled back into my own past. Satrapi’s family reminded me very much of my own: the strong bond between family members, their liberal politics, their belief that girls should grow up to be strong, independent, well-educated women. This movie is to me, a film text that beautifully weaves aesthetics from my childhood books along with stories and values similar to those of my family’s.

This summer my mother and I will visit my sister and nieces who now live in Wisconsin. I know many hours will be spent talking about our family’s history, savoring my sister’s delicious meals, re-telling anecdotes, laughing, and also remembering those who are gone. Then as night falls, we will gather in front of the glaring T.V. screen watching Persepolis. As the story unravels, I will listen for my family’s laughter and gasps. In the bluish light I will watch their expressions to see if they, just as I did, recognize our family in the Satrapi family. I will lean back and indulge in having carried on a family tradition: sharing rich texts.

Par Meche - Publié dans : Le coin à Meche - Communauté : Cinéma
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Jeudi 15 octobre 2009 4 15 /10 /2009 17:55

Meche, diminutif de Mercedes, est une amie américano-mexicaine de longue date, qui a accepté de me laisser publier ses articles en anglais de temps en temps sur mon petit blog perso. Libre à elle d'en écrire bientôt en espagnol et même en français ...

Merci à toi.

Marco.

Par Marcozeblog - Publié dans : Le coin à Meche
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