Faifield, Iowa: An Oasis Amists a Monocultural Desert

What a contrast between Muscatine and our next destination! We planned to reach Abundance Ecovillage and Surya Nagar Farm by the evening, located in Fairfield, Iowa. Well, we made it there, and made an extra friend along the way.

Since we departed from the Adventure Cycling route in Muscatine to go south, we used Map Quest to trace a route to Fairfield. Big mistake! Even by selecting "shortest route" and "avoid highways," this service is designed for those traveling by car. Not 5 miles into our trip did we realize that it would be a miserable 80 miles to Fairfield. We were on a heavily traveled road, fighting the headwind while attempting to bike a straight line between tractor trailer trucks on our left and the rumble strips on our right. We found a cute roadside produce stand and pulled over to use the restroom and ask for an alternate route. What we did not expect was for the farmer/owner to sit us down, crack open a juicy watermelon picked from the surrounding fields, and chat for an hour about the evolution of farming in the state. He just could not compete with the grocery stores which receive produce from different sites across the U.S. and the world depending on when it is in season. In addition, although he tried selling heirloom varieties of squash, melons, and tomatoes, he commented that consumers are accustomed to the uniformity of mass produced hybrid varieties. When a shopper spots an unsightly bump, they perceive the entire vegetable or fruit as undesirable. This is unfortunate, because I have found that heirloom varieties, which are open pollinated varieties cultivated from saved seeds for at least the last 50 years, taste bolder and come in many more combinations pleasing to the eyes.

This farmer was a pleasant man, but I sensed his deep frustration behind his willingness to share his life story with two young travelers willing to listen, as the watermelon juice dripped down our faces. A few years prior, he invested in a gas station/diner on the side of the road. But, the loans were too much for this budding entrepreneur to pay back, and so the bank reclaimed the property. Now the building sits empty in the lot next to his produce stand. He seemed like a man simply trying to earn a living so that he could support his children and wife and enjoy some free time as well. A businessman-turned farmer, he had a good sense of the market pressures surrounding a farmer who sells his produce instead of focusing solely on self-sufficient food production. Despite this knowledge, however, he was unable to compete with "the big guy" down the road.

Looking for a bit of excitement in his routine, instead of writing down directions, he offered to load our bikes in the back of his truck and drive us the rest of the way to Fairfield. Thanks to our travel angels (was it just luck that landed us in these situations? I have a hard time believing this....), what would have been an all-day bike ride transformed into an hour tour from the farmer's point of view. We were able to ask John, our new farmer friend, about the large hog confinement farms, a landmark in Iowa. This is how it works: companies such as Purdue rent space from farmers to raise company-owned hogs, which are force fed in their own filth until they weigh enough for slaughter. These poor creatures must inhale the same rank odor that cause neighbors to complain to nearby farmers. This confinement is used simply for efficiency's sake, so that American's may eat a few strips of bacon everyday with breakfast. These animals never see the light of day; they are born in a barn until fattened, loaded onto a truck, and dumped off at the slaughter house. The farmers suffer in this system, as well. The meat processing companies may decide to move their contracts at a moment's notice, leaving the farmer to pay the expenses of an empty hog barn. In most states, there no longer exist any independent slaughter houses. This means that if a farmer wanted to raise his own hogs or other meat animal, he or she would not be able to slaughter the animal in a manner approved for sale of the meat. In other words, hog farmers must go through the agribusiness or not at all. Meat raised in such a fashion, without respect, is no meat that I would like to eat.

Anyway, an hour later, John dropped us off on the campus of the Maharishi School of Management. Suddenly, we found ourselves surrounded by two gold-plated meditation domes. Before us rose into the air a proud, nonfunctional brick tower encrypted with the words "Tower of Invincibility." It is thanks to this college, founded in the 70s by Maharishi, the same man with whom the Beatles passed many a meditation hour, that Fairfield became the cultural fusion that we found it in mid-September. Immediately confused, because the meditation domes reminded us so much of the Matrimandir in Auroville, India (www.auroville.org), we set off to find Surya Nagar Farm and the Abundance Ecovillage. Surya Nagar is located another mile or so down the road from this budding ecovillage. The community at Abundance was a bit disappointing; although equipped with communal solar panels, many of the homes are still in their construction stage, and there seemed to be little on-site interaction between those who lived there. However, a few community members had started a CSA program on site, and another man whom we were to meet later has started building a tree nursery on site as well.

Surya Nagar, however, was where we found the most excitement. Home to Lonnie Gamble and his wife and two month old son, as well as another wonderful couple, this farm was so welcoming that Gautier and I stayed for three weeks. The weather was so pleasant while we visited; only a few cold nights reminded me of the coming cold winds that would transform this prairie land into a frozen tundra. Otherwise, I danced around in a skirt I bought for $3 at a local thrift store, relishing the opportunity to be out of biking clothes. In exchange for helping with landscaping work and little farming chores, we received a warm, dry place to sleep in their loft, indoor kitchen space, and all the veggies we could eat. Downtown Fairfield had the best (if not most expensive) health food store, from where we purchased ingredients to concoct delicious meals, including portabella risotto, humus, and pesto. Not in Fairfield 24 hours, Lonnie had called up a friend and got us a job working in a 2 acre organic greenhouse. Now we had an income to replace some of our trip’s expenses.

During the three weeks at Lonnie house, we were able to connect with so many amazing people doing incredible projects. We visited a local organic dairy farm. The farmer, an ex-soil scientist for the USDA, practiced rotational grazing so that his fields were diverse and healthy, and his 80 jersey cows were happy milk producers. He sold his milk, cream, butter, cheese, and yogurt to the university as well as local grocery store chains. He was friendly and knowledgeable, and we had fun riding around in his golf cart while he gave us a tour of the farm. We also befriended two intelligent and creative young guys, named Josh and Brian. Brian lived down town in a house full of people. His home was like a jungle amidst concrete; he and his housemates were in the process of converting their yard into an urban permaculture Eden. Josh heard of Fairfield after his brother attended Lonnie’s summer permaculture design course, and was now doing odd construction, landscaping, and mechanical jobs in town.

We also met a fellow tourist, who, when passing through Fairfield during a north to south ride, liked the town’s atmosphere so much that he came back for good. We were able to catch a ride with him to Missouri to visit another ecovillage, called Dancing Rabbit, during their 10^th anniversary open house. Located in the same town was a communal farm called Sandhill. While Dancing Rabbit, founded by a group of 10 Stanford graduates, utilized many ‘sustainable technologies’ such as solar panels and windmills, the community itself seemed, to me, a bit haphazard. For example, new members constructed their homes wherever they could arrange a land rental. In this manner, homes did not blend well into the scenery; there seemed to be no greater vision for how people would live together in such a space. The land seemed dry and exposed. A few members had gardens, but there was no community-wide effort to grow food. There were several eating co-ops where members shared cooking and financial responsibilities, but the organization seemed super complicated. If I lived in such a community, I would want to live in a space which seemed natural, where people came together for meals naturally, not by membership only.

However, Sandhill Farm was quite the opposite. This farm was not a random collection of people; the long-term members seemed like a family, and interns worked hard helping to cultivate gardens for home consumption and larger crops of soybean and sorghum for the production of tempeh and sorghum syrup (an ‘old-timer’ sugar substitute). What differed most about Sandhill in comparison to Dancing Rabbit was that the former community’s main goal was to feed those who lived on the land. Some value-added products were produced to supplement the income needed to maintain the community, but folks did not have outside jobs. I believe it was this fact which made Sandhill appear so cohesive to the outsider. At Dancing Rabbit, it was up to the individual to scratch out a livelihood. On the other hand, at Sandhill Farm, the community thrived or failed together.

While at Fairfield, we were fortunate enough to observe many different types of communities. My time there provided me with an opportunity to research the aspects of community that I valued. Slowly, I am putting together a vision for a community that I would like to live in one day, whether in existence already or one I help to create. After biking so many miles and learning what, to me, are the bare essentials in life (tasty and fresh food, a warm place to sleep, and an occasional shower), I have come to the conclusion that my life does not need to be spent earning money. I can use my energy, as I did to travel 1,300 miles, to grow the food I need to eat, capture the water I need for drinking and hygiene, and build my own shelter. That takes care of my needs, but now the largest challenge is, how to I attract people with similar desires in order to build the community which I have also identified as a basic need? I cannot build a community on my own.