Seed Savers-Treasure

by Sandra Smith

  The innovations seemed to benefit everybody: the farmer, third world countries, consumers. Like vaccinations or pasteurized milk contributing to the good of humanity, biotec plants were heralded as an improved way of food business. One difference, however, was the ownership rights. A few large corporations, and one in particular—Nipungyo—soon had a corner on the market of genetically modified seeds.

  A tear rolled down Ana’s face as she recalled the way it had played out. The first to go were small farmers who didn’t buy into GM seeds; they had no interest in Nipungyo’s herbicides or high-priced seeds. They continued to farm as they always had, by saving seeds from each year’s crop to plant in the coming year. Gradually, however, neighboring farms switched to Nipungyo’s Bull’s Eye resistant seeds and cross-pollination occurred. Nipungyo sent representatives out to gather and test seeds; some called them the “seed police.” Farmers who’d never used the biotec seeds were run out of business because they didn’t have the money to defend themselves.

  Consumers also lost. They lost the ability to choose the kind of food they would eat. While some were aware that supermarket food came from genetically modified seeds, most were not. Had they known, they might not have cared, lulled as they were into trusting that somebody else was watching out for them.

  People forgot the flavor of food so fresh from the earth you could taste the richness or desperation of the soil in which it was grown. Plants that historically offered untold diversity—such as more than three thousand varieties of potatoes in Peru—were bred down to what the seller deemed best, based on the demand from large chain stores and “fast food” restaurants. The valued traits of the chosen monoculture had to do with size, proliferation, ease of shipping, shelf life, and cost, rather than flavor or nutrition.

  Food became a commodity rather than the nourishment of life.

  Ana recalled how the efforts of small grassroots groups came too late. By then, corporations had gained a foothold in key government offices. The food poisoning outbreaks of the 2010s and 2020s put fresh market growers out of business and handed all food growing and production over to agribusiness. Though never proven, many suspected the food contamination was intentional so that the government could finally wrest control from the people.

  Within ten years, only authorized producers were allowed to grow food. GRIM was formed to enforce and investigate all things related to food production. The revolving door of the past between Nipungyo executives and federal government positions was at last solidified into one single agency.

  11

  TOMATOES

  Again the children brought their math books to St. Vincent’s.

  Four books lay on the table. The children tried to hide their disappointment when they saw the letters B-I-B-L-E handwritten neatly across each of the handmade book jackets.

  Ana’s face shone with joy and mischief. “I thought it would be nice if we could all read together.”

  Dante began turning pages. Large colorful pictures of plants and trees, and things he’d never seen before, lay before him.

  “Look!” he shouted. “My Bible has pictures!”

  Lily and Clare were paging through their books. “Hey—wait a minute—”

  The girls looked up at Ana, whose smile stretched tight the sagging skin around her mouth, and sent out wrinkles from the corners of her eyes like rays of sunshine.

  “Never underestimate what you might find inside a plain brown wrapper,” she said winking. “It’s risky, but if ever you’re to see these books, I figured this would be our best chance. Though you must be careful when others come near. Now let’s get these math books of yours lying about.” She opened the two textbooks nearest her. “You never know what other people might think or do.”

  The two girls exchanged glances. Ana’s tone was serious. Suddenly they were reminded of the man, who on occasion, still followed them. Meeting here, like this, had begun to feel normal, safe, like real after-school lessons. They had almost forgotten their course of study was forbidden. Yes, forbidden fruit, Clare thought, just like in the Bible.

  “Clare, Lily, Dante,” Ana said. “Today I’m going to tell you about tomatoes.” The children opened their notebooks.

  “Tomato: t-o-m-a-t-o,” Ana spelled. They copied down the word and waited for more.

  “Put down your pencils,” she instructed. They stared at her in disbelief, clutching their pencils.

  “Down,” she repeated. “First, I want you just to listen.”

  They set their pencils down and looked at Ana.

  “A tomato is the fruit of the plant, scientifically speaking. It contains the seeds. In terms of the old ‘food groups’ we’ll call it a vegetable. What I mean is—it’s not sweet like a dessert, a Sweetie, such as fruit from a tree.”

  “Like a peach!” Dante interrupted.

  “That’s right. But tomatoes do have many wonderful qualities like other fruits. For example, tomatoes can be eaten raw or cooked. They can be made into sauce and juice. They can be canned, frozen, or dried. Tomatoes come in several colors, but mostly bright red. They’re usually round and can be small or large. They are rather soft and very juicy. The seeds are easy to save.”

  The children, with their limited experience, understood only about half of this, but seemed impressed. They hoped Ana would soon let them write it all down.

  “Are they difficult to grow?” asked Lily.

  “Not really,” answered Ana. “Quite easy.” She whispered, “And they can be grown indoors. Though they do get rather large. But oh, so much food, from one tiny seed. You see, unlike a carrot seed, a tomato seed produces a plant with many, many fruits on it.”

  “Oh, I get it,” said Clare.

  Dante bravely asked, “Do you think we could get one of those seeds?”

  “You already have, dear, you already have.”

  The children were terribly excited to finally discover that the first seeds Clare brought home were tomatoes. And soon they would be growing their own tomato plants. After Ana surprised them with the news, she surprised them even further by showing them pictures of tomatoes in the brown-papered gardening books.

  The remainder of class trickled away as the children drank in the books, examining the many illustrations of vegetable plants and fruit trees.

  Whoever said a picture is worth a thousand words must have been thinking of them. Their hearts sang as they carried their treasures home.

  They could almost taste the tomatoes.

  12

  PREPARATION

  During their third week together, Ana gave the children extensive notes on how to plant and grow the tomato and carrot seeds. Clare and Dante told her they owned a large pot—leftover from the many ill-fated houseplants their mother had unsuccessfully attempted to grow. Ana judged by their gestures that the size would work just fine for a tomato.

  They planned to ask their mom to buy potting soil and tell her it was for a science project—not really a lie, depending on how you looked at it. They would do everything in Clare’s room, and Mama would soon forget about it—like she had forgotten about the philodendron. Because the seeds were precious, they’d plant only one. If it didn’t come up after a given number of days, they’d plant the second one; otherwise, it would be saved.

  The plan for the carrot seeds was even more exciting. They would plant dozens of the seeds outside in the loose soil recently left behind by a torn-out hedge. They studied photos in the books so they’d recognize the carrots once they emerged.

  “Don’t worry,” Ana told them. “Carrots take a long time to come up. When they finally do, they’re little slivers of green. They’re slow starters, but worth the wait. Just make sure the ground isn’t too hard, and pull the weeds to give them room.”

  “Are there any questions?” Ana asked as the children finished their notes. Her question was met by contented silence.

  “Well, then I suppose you won’t mind a little quiz,” she said.

  “A quiz?!”

  A
na chuckled at the children’s concern. “All right, maybe not an actual test. How about a quick review?”

  “Can we use our notes?” Clare asked.

  “Hmm . . . Yes, you may use your notes since you’re just beginning . . . but there may come a time when you need the knowledge tucked deep in here,” she said, tapping her head with her finger.

  “First question: What will your seed need to grow?”

  “I know,” said Lily, “water and warmth, and soil, of course.”

  “Very good. And once it germinates?”

  “Light,” they all shouted together.

  “Yes, good.”

  She asked about planting and tending. The children answered nearly every question perfectly. At last Ana asked, “Why must you be careful where you keep your tomato plant?”

  “Light!” Dante shouted.

  “Dante, I mean besides light. Why must you keep it hidden? And why do you need to be careful about constantly checking for the carrots?”

  Clare said, “GRIM,” and the smiles slid off their faces.

  “That’s right, children. I know we’ve spoken of it before, but I have to say it again. You can still change your minds—” the children looked stricken “—you can back out now. Possessing seeds and growing plants is against the law. I think it’s a bad law, but you are children and I hate to involve you in something illegal. Lily, Clare, I think you are old enough to understand what you are doing; Dante, you are very young, and I’m sorry we are burdening you with such a heavy obligation—”

  “It’s okay, Ana,” Clare said. “It’s my fault that Dante is in it with us. But you have to understand, I couldn’t do this without Dante or Lily. We’re the Three Musketeers.”

  Clare put her hand on the table, thumb up. Lily and Dante joined. Ana had seen them do this time and again. This time she added her wrinkled fist to the top.

  “It’s okay,” Clare repeated. “We’re ready.”

  13

  “IT’S TIME”

  Finally the day came when Ana told them it was time.

  “Do you have the pot with soil ready?”

  “Oh, yes,” cried Dante. “We bought the dirt weeks ago. Mama has already forgotten about it.”

  “Good,” said Ana. “Because it’s time. Remember, plant the carrot seeds very carefully. Just sprinkle them over soil that you’ve scratched out a bit. Throw a little potting soil over them, firm down, and water gently. Make sure no one is watching. The tomato seed also needs tender care. It will grow best if it’s warm, so put it some place toasty if you can.”

  It was hard to keep their attention for the remaining hour. They were restless and giddy; too excited to learn anything new. Ana understood their excitement, and shared in it. She, too, would plant her normal crops. Although she never knew anymore, whether she would be there for the harvest, she always planted—how could she not? Planting in spring was part of the rhythm of her life.

  She hadn’t told the children about her cache of saved seeds or that she intended to pass the bulk of the savings on to them. She would stash away this news for next time, like she stashed away the seeds. There would be the days spent waiting for the seeds to germinate, and that would be a good time to break the next bit of exciting news.

  Clare, Dante, and Lily could hardly wait to reach the apartment. One lone man still followed them occasionally, but they were unfazed. He couldn’t read their minds, after all. And they had already managed to bring a number of gardening books from church to their homes over the past couple of weeks, so they were feeling invincible.

  Back at Clare and Dante’s place, the children made a beeline to Clare’s room and closed the door. Lily opened her notebook and began reading the instructions they had copied from Ana. In the kitchen, Dante found measuring cups and spoons. They would need utensils to get the soil into the abandoned philodendron pot. Eventually, the pot was filled nearly to the top with soil.

  “We should have put some paper down,” Clare said, shaking her head at the dirt on the carpet.

  “Oh, well,” said Lily. “Next time we know.”

  Silence settled around them like snowfall. They knew what came next: placement of the seed into the soil.

  “I feel like we should have a ceremony or something,” Dante said.

  “A blessing,” said Clare.

  “Too bad we don’t have the Bible,” Lily said.

  Dante furrowed his brow. “I think Mama has a Bible.”

  “Nuh-uh,” said Clare. “She never goes to church.”

  “No, really. I think she does.” He ran out of the room. After a few minutes he returned, a dusty, dilapidated book in his hands.

  “See?”

  Clare wiped the dust off the soft cover and opened it up. “Holy Bible,” she read. She looked up. “I didn’t know Mama had a Bible. How did you know?”

  “I saw her write in it when Daddy died.”

  Clare turned a few more pages. There were pages to record births and deaths. There, printed neatly, she read their birth dates. She also saw the name of her father, the record of his birth and death, and the marriage of her parents. It brought back memories of happier—and sadder—times. She slammed the book shut before a tear slipped out of her eyes.

  “A blessing?” Lily reminded her.

  “Oh, yes,” Clare said, collecting herself. “Where is that part about God declaring all of the food in the garden good?”

  “It was right at the beginning: Genesis.” She took the Bible from Clare, opened it, and started skimming. “Here it is. Shall I read, while you hold the seeds up?”

  “What about me?” cried Dante.

  Lily took one seed and placed it in Dante’s hand. The second seed she placed into Clare’s cupped hands. “Two seeds,” she said. “Two pairs of hands.”

  She began reading, “God said, ‘Let the land produce vegetation: seed-bearing plants and trees on the land that bear fruit with seed in it, according to their various kinds.’ And it was so. The land produced vegetation: plants bearing seed according to their kinds and trees bearing fruits with the seed in it according to their kinds. And God saw it was good.

  “Amen,” finished Lily, doing the sign of the cross for extra emphasis, as she had seen on the Monitor.

  “Amen,” echoed the other two.

  “God bless these and make them grow!” shouted Dante.

  “You know we are only planting the one at first,” Clare reminded him.

  “I know. But someday it will get its time to grow. And in case we forget, it will already be blessed.”

  “Good plan,” Lily said, winking.

  Clare handed her seed to Lily. She took the spare blessed seed from Dante, placed it carefully in its tiny envelope, and then back into her shoe. Lily handed back the other seed and began reading the notes aloud as Clare followed instructions.

  “Place the seed atop the soil. Gently poke it down into the soil, no farther than up to your knuckle. Firm the soil with your hand. Water. Put in a warm place. If you can place it on top of something warm, this is even better.” She stopped reading. The seed had been pushed under the soil and firmed.

  “Didn’t she say to water it with a spray bottle or something gentle at first?” Clare asked.

  Lily scanned her notes. “Yes, or the soil and seed could wash away. It’s down here, later on.”

  Dante was already out the door. He was back in a moment with the water bottle Mama used to spray her frizzy hair.

  “Perfect,” said Lily.

  Next, the children positioned the pot as close to the heater as they could. Then they sat and looked at it for awhile. It’s not that they expected anything to happen right away. They simply felt proud of their accomplishment.

  Even though there was no miracle yet, they had just planted a seed for the first time in their lives. They, themselves, children only, had dared to grow food. They were continuing a tradition humans had done for millennia. It was an awesome moment, and the silence before them was holy.

  14<
br />
  CHANGE THE FUTURE

  When she got home from St. Vincent’s, Ana was on edge. She needed to get outside and do something. It was a drag being old and living alone. She didn’t dare go on a walk—what if she fell and hurt herself and nobody saw her, or worse yet, nobody cared?

  The thought crossed her mind that she should have a large garden to putter around in. That’s how her life ought to have been. That’s how it was for her mother. She puttered around in her garden up until her dying day. Why had things gotten so out of control?

  Ana sometimes wondered what she could have done in her youth that might have saved her from this present world where seed saving was illegal and real food remembered by only a fraction of the population. Could anything her past self have done prevented this present predicament?

  It was too taxing to dwell on. The past was over, after all. But the future stretched out in front of her like a road to the horizon, and she hadn’t given up on it yet. Her actions now would count for something. Teaching the children, and passing on the books and seeds, these would change the future. She closed her eyes and imagined her visions from the past as visions of the future.

  “It can be done,” she said out loud. “The time is now.”

  15

  ANA’S CONFESSION

  “What about the carrots?” Dante asked, breaking the silence.