Invasive Marabou Weed, An Enemy That Became An Ally

Invasive Marabou Weed, An Enemy That Became An Ally / 14ymedio, Bertha
Guillen and Ricardo Fernandez

14ymedio, Bertha Guillen and Ricardo Fernandez, Artemisa/Pinar del Rio,
9 February 2017 – When he was a boy, Jorge Luis Ledesma Herrera played
around the charcoal ovens his father had built. Now, approaching 50,
this Pinar del Rio man dedicates his days to a shrub that is both hated
and appreciated: the invasive marabou weed, raw material for the first
product that Cuba has exported to the United States in more than five
decades.

Ledesma lives in El Gacho, a few miles from San Juan y Martinez, where
the best tobacco on the island is grown. Also growing in the area is the
spiny plant that has invaded the island since its arrival 150 years ago.
Now, its hard branches provide sustenance to thousands of families
across the island.

Cuba annually exports between 40,000 and 80,000 tonnes of
charcoal produced from marabou, which occupies roughly 2.5 million acres
of land that would otherwise be suitable for agriculture, or almost 17%
of the island's arable land.

Livestock areas have also been affected by this invasive weed that has
conquered 56% of the land used for animal husbandry. The plague of
threatening thorns spreads, thanks to the plant's strong nature, but
also due to the neglect and poor organization that affects the Cuban
countryside.

The state maintains a good deal of control over land despite the fact
that in recent years the cooperative sector has been expanded and land
has been leased in usufruct to private farmers.

The Basic Units of Cooperative Production manage 25% of the land, the
Agricultural Production Cooperatives 8% and the Credit and Services
Cooperatives 38%, while state farms manage 29%, according to figures
provided in 2015 during the XI Congress of the National Association of
Small Farmers (ANAP).

Popular jokes praise the marabou as if it were the royal palm. They
propose to replace that haughty national emblem on the Republic's coat
of arms and in its place enshrine the tangled anatomy of the invading
species.

A decade ago Raul Castro joked about the repudiation of the bush during
a speech in Camagüey, during the official commemoration of the assault
on the Moncada Barracks. "What was most beautiful, what stood out in my
eyes, was how beautiful the marabou was along the whole road," he said
after traveling from Havana to that central province.

After that harangue, the crusade against the marabou took on ideological
status and became a symbol of Raul's government, right alongside the
promises of eradicating the dual monetary system, curbing corruption and
lowering food prices. Shortly afterwards, enthusiasm for the battle was
lost and it disappeared from the government's list of critical projects.

In an irony of fate, the enemy plant has gradually become an ally. In
2007 the Spanish company Iberian and Solid Fuels (Ibecosol SL) began to
commercialize charcoal made from marabou in several European
countries. Its ability to burn slowly and the delicate flavor it adds to
food has earned it a good reputation.

Jorge Luis Ledesma Herrera knows these qualities well, because part of
the marabou he processes ends up in his own stove. Every morning he
spends hours cutting the logs that he then transports in an oxcart. His
life is not very different from his grandfather's, but he boasts of
being able to count on "legal electricity" in an environment where low
voltage "clotheslines" – as makeshift electrical wiring is called – abound.

He describes working with marabou as a real hell. The main limitation is
the tools he has to work with. The axes and machetes are of poor
quality, bought on the black market, and must be repaired all the
time. With ingenuity, some have recycled blades from sugar cane
harvesters to aid in cutting.

About two hundred yards from the farmer's house is the flat ground where
the oven is built. The earth is burned and looks fine, like black
powder. The marabou must be heated to temperatures between 750° and
1300° F, with the wood stacked in a cone, covered over with straw and earth.

"Two months ago I took out of the oven an amount I calculated as 20
sacks – about half a tonne – and it started to rain. Although the rain
only lasted a few minutes the hard coals cracked like broken glass," he
said. "I could only save five sacks.

In the nearby Artemisa Joaquín Díaz, 56, has been engaged in the
manufacture of charcoal since he was a child. He has been using marabou
for years to cook, but now, with the news of its export, he processes it
more delicately and takes greater care of the ovens. Like Ledesma, he
only has access to water through a well, takes care of his personal
needs in a latrine outside the house and his house has a light weight roof.

This charcoal producer in the village of Fierro, in the municipality of
San Cristóbal, bears up under the sting of the rebellious shrub; like
other farmers he uses gardening gloves to protect himself. Keeping his
eyes away from thorns is also part of the precautions. When he prepares
an oven he tries not to leave a gap between one stick and another,
because "it doesn't hold in the fire and then it goes out." Care is
essential. "As long as white smoke is coming out, the wood isn't
burned," and it will only ready to dismantle when the smoke turns blue,
which may take a week or more, Diaz explains.

In Pinar del Río, the companies that buy charcoal from the burners are
the state-owned Acopio and the Integral Forest Enterprise. Payment is
made through a temporary contract that allows them to be paid directly
and not through the cooperatives. The charcoal-burners thus avoid the
check cashing fee charged by those entities.

The state pays for charcoal at 1.20 Cuban pesos (CUP – roughly 5 cents
US) per kilogram (2.2 pounds) wholesale, or 30 CUP for a 25 kilogram
sack. For premium charcoal they pay 0.10 CUC (roughly ten cents US) per
kilogram. With luck, the producer will pocket the equivalent of 150
dollars for every tonne of best quality charcoal, which the state
enterprise will sell in the United States for 420 dollars, almost three
times what the charcoal-burner makes.

However, selling to the state comes with many problems of late payments.
In addition, "the rigging of the process of selection and the weighing
of the premium coal, makes it more reliable to sell it to private
individuals," says Ledesma. The private buyer pays 40 CUP per sack, "and
many owners of pizzerias and private restaurants in Pinar del Rio" come
to him to stock up.

Ledesma dreams of being able to sell his marabou charcoal directly,
without going through the state as an intermediary. "If that could be
done, I would buy myself a chain saw to increase production so I could
change the way I live." Of course if that were the case, he reflects,
"even doctors would come here set up charcoal ovens in El Gaucho."

Source: Invasive Marabou Weed, An Enemy That Became An Ally / 14ymedio,
Bertha Guillen and Ricardo Fernandez – Translating Cuba -
http://translatingcuba.com/invasive-marabou-weed-an-enemy-that-became-an-ally-14ymedio-bertha-guillen-and-ricardo-fernandez/