Dear Jef Geys,
Working with Frederic Legros for the public programs at Monnaie de Paris, I wanted to ask some information about your performance project during the exhibition Take Me (I’m Yours) at Monnaie de Paris.
For now, I understood that your performance will involve 13 women, reading in their native language, one after the other. So far, I have the following languages: English, French, German, Italian, Spanish, Japanese, Chinese, Arabic, Hebrew, Russian, Turkish and Hindi. I’m missing one language and I wanted to make sure that it was the right ones.
So for this performance, we need to find 13 women from 13 different nationalities?
Do they need to be professional actors?
Would they be standing in line in front of the public, steping forward one at the time while they’re asking their question?
Do you have any other condition for the project?
I also know that you would like this project to be recorded.
Would you like a sound record or a video?
Thank you for your help and do not hesitate to call me if you want to discuss this over the phone.
MONNAIE DE PARIS
Editors’ Note: Pint of Science is a three-day global festival that seeks to stoke interest in science in “everyday people.” On May 18, one event took place at Gun Hill Brewery in the Bronx. Albert Einstein College of Medicine student Julie Nadel, a Ph.D. candidate in the department of genetics in Dr. John Greally’s lab, organized the event and served as the evening’s host. Speakers included Einstein’s Dr. Kartik Chandran, a noted expert on Ebola, Dr. Ina Vandebroek, an ethnobotanist at the New York Botanical Garden, and Dr. Patricio I. Meneses, an associate professor of biological sciences at Fordham University. We asked Julie about the importance of communicating about science to the general public.
How did you get involved with Pint of Science?
Jeanne Garbarino, Ph.D, who co-hosted the event with me, is in charge of the outreach program at Rockefeller University. She was a co-organizer of the programming for Pint of Science throughout New York City. When she gave a talk, “Incorporating Communication and Outreach into Your Scientific Brand,” at Einstein in March, I was able to attend a Career and Professional Development Program student dinner with her afterward, and I expressed my interest in participating in the program.
I am passionate about science outreach and communication, and also enjoy beer occasionally, so this seemed like the perfect event for me to help organize! I knew there would be strong interest among students and faculty at Einstein, but wanted to extend the potential audience to the rest of the Bronx, so I tried to do that by inviting speakers from other local science institutions, hoping they could gather a following.
How can Pint of Science be a springboard for a larger movement to share science among scientists and create interest in science among nonscientists?
I think Pint of Science is actually a consequence of this movement rather than a springboard. In New York City, there are already many “drinking and science” events, run by institutions such as the American Museum of Natural History (SciCafe), the BioBus/BioBase outreach program (Free Drinks, Fast Science) and the Secret Science Club.
Although the goal of many of these programs is to increase the exposure of nonscientists to scientific concepts, most people who attend them already have at least a casual interest in science. I think a more important result of the events is actually the exposure of nonscientists to the scientists themselves, rather than to the scientific content.
If you Google “Science is . . .” and let Google autofill your question, the options to select include “real,” “fun” and “awesome.” However, if you try the same with “Scientists are . . . ,” your options to complete the sentence include “stupid,” “arrogant” and “wrong.” I don’t think the general public has a problem with interest in science. Science tends to be exciting. However, the way most people feel about scientists is completely disconnected from their feelings about the field scientists dedicate their lives to, and it isn’t entirely the fault of the media or the public.
Scientists tend to put themselves in an ivory tower. We often have a hard time communicating scientific concepts in a way nonscientists can grasp, and many scientists don’t even try. Programs such as Pint of Science can show that we are normal people (for the most part) who also like to have beer, and can casually discuss our life’s passion over pints. And I think that can be much more important for the progress of science than an audience member learning a fun fact about a particular subject.
For this event, rather than choosing the topics I wanted to see presented, I chose scientists I was confident were good communicators. Their areas of study also happened to fit a general audience’s interest: the well-known viruses Ebola and HPV, and ethnobotany focusing on the Bronx population. I think it would be much harder to draw a crowd to hear about something such as a knockout gene in Drosophila that alters wing-hair growth—not that it isn’t interesting, but for most people outside the field, it’s not something they can relate to. Unfortunately, those of us who do basic research rather than studying a disease model have to clear a more difficult hurdle in gaining public interest, but this problem may diminish over time if events such as this continue to gain attention from a nonscientist audience.
How do you see events such as Pint of Science affecting the way the general public perceives science and scientific endeavors?
I hope events such as Pint of Science can help bridge the gap between scientists and their communities. Scientists make valuable contributions to public health and knowledge, and yet are often vilified because their intentions are misperceived. There is a growing mistrust of science in the U.S. on the part of the general public and the media (with issues such as climate change and evolution being typically Republican, and vaccines and GMOs more typically Democratic). I hope events such as this can put more people on the side of scientists, so they can see that scientists are real people who care about the well-being of society and work hard to contribute positively to it.
This took place at a brewery. Where else would you like to see science presented?
Everywhere. I think science should be incorporated into daily life as much as possible—the two should be inseparable. My email signature includes a quote from Rosalind Franklin: “Science and everyday life cannot and should not be separated.”
Science can be seen in everything around us and in the way we interpret the world. It would be great if it were more widely accepted and embraced more vigorously.
Ina Vandebroek – Home
I like to read a country as a book.
The pages of Belgium make up
a book of longing and belonging.
The train that I took drives by fields
of sugar beets, corn and wheat,
meadows that hold ten different shades
of green, black and white cows
juxtaposed with flaming red poppies.
To come back is to know
that the untamed in me
will always recognize the elderberries
blossoming by the railroad tracks,
the places where wild things grow.
This is the language of childhood,
a book infused with memories
of home-made mayonnaise and fries,
of late afternoons with songs of black birds,
a contest in which every singer is a winner.
These are images and sounds
that make up their own language,
noticed only by those who have left,
but who still resist the idea of leaving.
Ina Vandebroek, 16 June 2015
Long overlooked in parts of Africa, indigenous greens are now capturing attention for their nutritional and environmental benefits.
by Rachel Cernansky
One lunchtime in early March, tables at Nairobi’s K’Osewe restaurant are packed. The waiting staff run back and forth from the kitchen, bringing out steaming plates of deep-green African nightshade, vibrant amaranth stew and the sautéed leaves of cowpeas. The restaurant is known as the best place to come for a helping of Kenya’s traditional leafy green vegetables, which are increasingly showing up on menus across the city.
Just a few years ago, many of those plates would have been filled with staples such as collard greens or kale — which were introduced to Africa from Europe a little over a century ago. In Nairobi, indigenous vegetables were once sold almost exclusively at hard-to-find specialized markets; and although these plants have been favoured by some rural populations in Africa, they were largely ignored by seed companies and researchers, so they lagged behind commercial crops in terms of productivity and sometimes quality.
Now, indigenous vegetables are in vogue. They fill shelves at large supermarkets even in Nairobi, and seed companies are breeding more of the traditional varieties every year. Kenyan farmers increased the area planted with such greens by 25% between 2011 and 2013. As people throughout East Africa have recognized the vegetables’ benefits, demand for the crops has boomed.
This is welcome news for agricultural researchers and nutritional experts, who argue that indigenous vegetables have a host of desirable traits: many of them are richer in protein, vitamins, iron and other nutrients than popular non-native crops such as kale, and they are better able to endure droughts and pests. This makes the traditional varieties a potent weapon against dietary deficiencies. “In Africa, malnutrition is such a problem. We want to see indigenous vegetables play a role,” says Mary Abukutsa-Onyango, a horticultural researcher at Jomo Kenyatta University of Agriculture and Technology in Juja, Kenya, who is a major proponent of the crops.
Scientists in Africa and elsewhere are now ramping up studies of indigenous vegetables to tap their health benefits and improve them through breeding experiments. The hope is that such efforts can make traditional varieties even more popular with farmers and consumers. But that carries its own risk: as indigenous vegetables become more widespread, researchers seeking faster-growing crops may inadvertently breed out disease resistance or some of the other beneficial traits that made these plants so desirable in the first place.
“It is important that when we promote a specific crop, that we try to come up with different varieties,” says Andreas Ebert, gene-bank manager at the World Vegetable Center (AVRDC), an agricultural-research organization based in Shanhua, Taiwan. If the increasing popularity of these vegetables limits choices, he says, “the major benefits we are currently seeing will be lost”.
Protein from plants
For Abukutsa, indigenous vegetables bring back memories of her childhood. Cow’s milk, eggs and some fish made her ill, so doctors advised her to avoid all animal protein. Instead, the women in her family made tasty dishes out of the green vegetables that grew like weeds around her house. Her mother often cooked the teardrop-shaped leaves of African nightshade (Solanum scabrum), as well as dishes of slimy jute mallow (Corchorus olitorius) and the greens of cowpeas, known elsewhere as black-eyed peas (Vigna unguiculata). One grandmother always cooked pumpkin leaves (Cucurbita moschata) with peanut or sesame paste. Abukutsa relished them all and ate the greens with ugali, a polenta-like dish common in East Africa.
She chose to pursue a career in agriculture because she wanted to “unravel the potential hidden in African indigenous vegetables”, she says. Now, she is considered a leader across Africa, and increasingly around the world, in a robust, rapidly growing field. “She’s almost like the mother of indigenous vegetables in Kenya,” says Jane Ambuko, head of horticulture at the University of Nairobi.
Abukutsa started out in the early 1990s, surveying and collecting Kenya’s indigenous plants to investigate the viability of the seeds that farmers were using. In the decades since, she has come to focus mainly on the vegetables’ nutritional properties.
Today, she is far from alone. The AVRDC has a dedicated research and breeding programme at its office in Arusha, Tanzania, and the Kenya Agricultural and Livestock Research Organization in Nairobi does similar work. Other health and agriculture organizations in both East and West Africa focus on boosting consumer use and improving the viability and yield of these crops. That fits into a global trend emphasizing bioregional foods — using crops that are well adapted for a given climate and environment, rather than foreign plants that tend to be less nutritious and require extra water or fertilizers.
Most of the indigenous vegetables being studied in East Africa are leafy greens, almost all deep green in colour and often fairly bitter. Kenyans especially love African nightshade and amaranth leaves (Amaranthus sp.). Spider plant (Cleome gynandra), one of Abukutsa’s favourites for its sour taste, grows wild in East Africa as well as South Asia. Jute mallow has a texture that people love or hate. It turns slimy when cooked — much like okra. Ebert says that moringa (Moringa oleifera) is not only one of the most healthful of the indigenous vegetables — both nutritionally and medicinally — but it is also common in many countries around the world.
Research by Abukutsa and others shows that amaranth greens, spider plant and African nightshade pack substantial amounts of protein and iron — in many cases, more than kale and cabbage1. These vegetables are generally rich in calcium and folate as well as vitamins A, C and E (ref. 2).
In recent years, Abukutsa has been studying how to maximize nutritional benefits using different cooking methods. Compared with raw vegetables, boiled and fried greens contain much more usable iron3 and could help to combat the high rates of anaemia in parts of East Africa. They can also be important sources of protein, she says. “Some people just live on vegetables, and they cannot maybe afford meat.”
Abukutsa is currently studying the antioxidant activity of indigenous vegetables, as well as how resilient they are to the effects of climate change. Most of the traditional varieties are ready for harvest much faster than non-native crops, so they could be promising options if the rainy seasons become more erratic — one of the predicted outcomes of global warming. Slenderleaf (Crotolaria sp.) is particularly hardy during drought because it quickly establishes its taproot. “If we have a short rain because of climate change, it can survive,” she says. She is working with other research partners to select vegetables with increased tolerance for variations in rainfall and temperature.
“Researchers risk eliminating the traits that make indigenous vegetables so desirable in the first place.”
Early on, Abukutsa recognized that she needed to do more to convince people to add indigenous vegetables to their diets. Since around 2000, she has led public education campaigns and worked with restaurants and supermarkets around Kenya to find out what they would need to start selling these foods. A simple but significant problem was that people did not know how to cook the vegetables. Unlike larger leafy vegetables such as kale, many of the indigenous varieties have small leaves that must be separated from their stems individually before cooking — a laborious process. Recipes are often vegetable-specific; spider plant can be cooked with sour milk, for example, but cowpea leaves go better with soya bean or peanut paste. Although older generations and some rural populations know what to do with nearly any local vegetable, much of the region’s traditional cooking knowledge has been lost. So Abukutsa got to work on collecting and testing recipes to maximize the amount of iron and other nutrients the dishes contain. K’Osewe was one of the first restaurants to take an active interest, and others soon followed.
For Abukutsa, indigenous vegetables are not just a research subject — they remain a central part of her own diet. “Today at lunchtime, I ate pumpkin leaves and nightshade,” she says.
The vegetables’ new-found popularity is spreading throughout East Africa. At a bustling market in Arusha, a young woman wearing a light-blue headscarf shops for sweet-potato leaves (Ipomoea batatas), known locally as matembele, which have a reputation for improving the blood. She buys them from an elderly woman who sells almost exclusively indigenous vegetables under a large red umbrella that protects her stock from the afternoon sun. She says her sales of such plants have climbed substantially over the past five years.
Green vegetables are not the only indigenous crops attracting researchers’ attention. In the 1990s, the US National Research Council (NRC) in Washington DC convened a panel to examine the potential of Africa’s ‘lost crops’, including grains, fruits and vegetables. Chaired by renowned agricultural researcher Norman Borlaug, the panel concluded that native plants held tremendous potential for improving food security and nutritional intake across Africa, and should be a greater focus for researchers4. Today, the World Agroforestry Centre in Nairobi is studying a range of Africa’s more than 3,000 indigenous fruit species, and finding that they are generally more nutritious, drought-tolerant and pest- and disease-resistant than their exotic counterparts.
But vegetables have gained the most notice, both in the marketplace and among researchers. Raymond Vodouhe, a plant breeder and geneticist with Bioversity International in Cotonou, Benin, says that his team’s work in West Africa has focused on domesticating wild vegetables. The hardy wild plants help African families to get through periods of drought or crop failure, but are threatened by deforestation and other types of land-clearing. By domesticating them, researchers can give farmers more-reliable access to indigenous vegetables so that they can better endure lean times.
The AVRDC is doing active research on native species in Asia and Oceania, as well as Africa. “A rich diversity of indigenous vegetable species exists throughout these areas,” says Ebert, pointing to okra and African eggplant (Solanum aethiopicum) in Mali, bitter gourd (Momordica charantia) and Malabar spinach (Basella alba) in India, and slippery cabbage (Abelmoschus manihot) in the Pacific Islands. “The challenge we face is selecting which indigenous vegetable species to study — with more than 2,000 plants that can be considered and consumed as vegetables, and very limited research funds, it’s a tough choice.” Less than 10% of the AVRDC’s roughly US$20-million annual budget goes to studying indigenous vegetables, he says.
A main focus has been basic problems such as difficulties with germination and a lack of information about how best to store seeds. Indigenous vegetables are not up to modern farming standards for characteristics such as uniformity of seeds and yield, so there is a lot of catching up to do.
But efforts to improve indigenous vegetables could come at a cost, say researchers. If breeders focus only on increasing yields, they could accidentally eliminate nutritional benefits. And if farmers seek to drive up production through monocrop agriculture — planting just one crop — they risk losing some of the qualities that make these vegetables such a draw. Plots with single crops, for example, face higher risks of being completely wiped out by insects or diseases.
At the AVRDC’s office in Arusha in late February, vegetable breeder Fekadu Dinssa walks through a screened enclosure filled with plants used for breeding. He surveys a table covered with starter trays of little amaranth plants from 57 breeding lines. In one tray, the plants are twice as tall as their neighbours, but their pale colour will not be popular in the market, he says. Dinssa wants to breed the fast-growing trait into other lines to develop a new type of commercially viable amaranth. It is a trial-and-error process that can take years.
Strength in diversity
As indigenous vegetables are planted in greater numbers, it will be a challenge to prevent less-common varieties from disappearing, say researchers. That could threaten the crops’ resilience, because different varieties can carry separate genes for resistance to pathogens and pests. Loss of diversity could also limit the vegetables’ appeal. In Kenya, for example, coastal communities tend to like giant African nightshade, whereas western communities prefer a variety with smaller leaves that has a much more bitter taste.
Some narrowing of choices has already happened. Simlaw Seeds in Nairobi, a division of Kenya Seed Company, sells only a couple of varieties each of amaranth and African nightshade, chosen because they are the most popular at the national level. “Of course it’s a concern, because practically speaking, we can’t promote them all,” says Abukutsa. She and other researchers compromise by promoting certain types while trying to preserve the full diversity in gene banks in Kenya and at the AVRDC. The researchers also encourage communities to continue growing the varieties they have traditionally favoured.
Calestous Juma, director of the Science, Technology, and Globalization Project at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts, sees these efforts as crucial. And with advances in genomics, he says, researchers should seek ways to improve indigenous crops — by lengthening their shelf life, for example — and to use them in breeding other plants. “They may have traits that may be useful for other crops.”
Juma, who served on the NRC’s lost-crops panel, urges more agricultural research centres in Africa to study these vegetables. The work that Abukutsa and her colleagues are doing, he says, “should be done at every university”.
On a hot Wednesday morning in March, Abukutsa walks around the university campus to survey some of her students’ work. One has spread amaranth leaves in a wooden box in the sunlight to test how drying will alter the plants’ nutritional profile. Abukutsa stops to talk to another student standing amid dozens of rows of recently sprouted African nightshade plants, part of an experiment on their genetic diversity. “We’ve come so far,” Abukutsa says, “but there’s still so much to be done.”
excerpt from The Anthropology of Ethnopharmacology
The third issue is that a plant medicine usually has more than one meaning. Its physiological
effect cannot be separated from its anticipated other meanings – emotional or spiritual – by the
people who use or sell the plant. Another botánica-related story illustrates this. A Puerto Rican
man in his 50s has been a needle user for about 20 years. He has been in and out of different
drug programmes and travels back and forth to Puerto Rico to detox.When he comes back to
New York City, he often relapses. He regularly visits a botánica, usually once or twice a day,
to drink a herbal tea remedy prepared by the botánica owner. The owner claims it helps him
deal with the anxiety associated with his substance abuse problem. The tea consists of half
an ounce of sándalo (mint, Mentha sp., Lamiaceae) mixed with perejil (parsley, Petroselinum
crispum (Mill.) Fuss, Apiaceae) and one branch of ruda (rue, Ruta spp., Rutaceae). The owner
prepares the remedy in advance in bulk and stores it in the refrigerator, so that when the patient
drops in he can get immediate assistance. While explaining the use of medicinal plants, the
botánica owner stressed the importance of the spiritual component of healing. He reiterated
that whereas medicinal plants assist in alleviating a biomedical problem, healing also has a
spiritual component. It prepares the patient mentally in the healing process. Spiritual healing
can be achieved through cleansing (‘limpieza’), bathing, faith and spiritual consultations. This
supposedly ‘cuts off’ the negative energy that a patient has been accumulating. It is important
to note here that it is not the issue whether or not a spiritual component is effective, but that
this component is relevant to both traditional healthcare provider and patient. It contributes
to the realm of healing, and as such merits its place as a subject of scientific inquiry.
The needle user’s story unravels the many often complex layers of traditional medicine,
entwining physical, cultural, emotional and spiritual dimensions. The richness of the cultural
context clearly goes beyond utilitarian knowledge about plants. This multidimensionality is
not restricted to isolated rural areas, nor is it something from the past. It exists within urban
and even transnational environments, for example in New York City, and it is used today for
conditions as ‘modern’ as substance abuse and ovarian cysts.
The aspiring ethnopharmacologist might wonder if this complexity in traditional medicine is
something he or she should take on as a research task. How relevant is culture in the face of the
evaluation of the pharmacological properties of plants in the laboratory? Perhaps the question
can be rephrased as follows: should ethnopharmacologists focus only on that part of culture
that is associated with the utilitarian aspect of plants? Do we take culture into account when
we want to obtain data on local plant uses, but not when it relates to other types of knowledge
linked to plants, the kind that is psycho-social or spiritual in nature? An easy answer would be
‘I cannot do it all.’ Or ‘the funding agency I am applying for does not support these kinds
of musings’. Nevertheless, generating a rich, inclusive dataset to develop a comprehensive
plant monograph can be indispensable to understand (cultural patterns of) plant knowledge,
as opposed to a reductionist (and inevitably incomplete) approach. It also serves the added
benefit that it can help preserve the integrity of cultural heritage. The psycho-social, religious
or spiritual components of plant knowledge contain a lot of meaning for conservation of useful
plant species at the community level since unfragmented stories associated with plants have
direct cultural relevance to keep knowledge about plants (and their uses) alive. It has been
argued before that to ‘deprive a people of their language, culture and spiritual values [makes
them] lose all sense of direction and purpose’ (Posey, 1999).
As an ethnobotanist educated in and trained from a botanical perspective, I became
increasingly aware of the overarching importance of culture during fieldwork. The more I
studied medicinal plants, the more I began to understand that culture shapes everything,
including plant knowledge. After all, biomedicine is a cultural construct too, which is elegantly
demonstrated by Miner (1956) in his influential article about the Nacirema. Furthermore,
anthropology has highlighted the importance of cultural relativism, the view that beliefs,
customs and ethics vary from culture to culture and that all are equally valid; no one system is
‘better’ than another (Spiro, 1986). Spiro writes: ‘In short all science is ethnoscience. Hence,
since modern science is western science, its truth claims (and canons of proof) are no less
culturally relative than those of any other ethnoscience.’ Other scholars have gone as far
as to bring up the notion that traditional medicine needs to be evaluated within its own
cultural framework rather than approved and subdued by the rules of biological (western)
medicine (Gorn and Sugiyama, 2004). Finally, Lynn Payer’s compelling work Culture &
Medicine: Varieties of Treatment in the United States, England, West Germany and France
(Payer, 1996) shows in a compelling way how even contemporary western cultures differ,
sometimes dramatically, in the ways in which they construct scientific medicine.
The key to improving healthcare in an increasingly globalized world may lie in integrating
different cultural dimensions of healthcare, or at least in keeping an open mind about different
ways in which other cultures think about, experience and respond to health and healthcare. In
that regard, it would be useful to adopt the term ‘culturally competent healthcare’ systems
(Anderson et al., 2003), which take into account the cultural knowledge, beliefs and practices
of patients as well as physicians. Ethnopharmacology can be at the forefront of building bridges
between these different systems of healthcare by embracing culture as the indispensable link
between a plant and a medicine.
Botanicas mix spirituality and nature to provide remedies for various emotional and physical ailments.
At Original Products Botanica in the Bronx, shelves are stocked with thousands of medicinal herbs, fast-luck bath salts and even so-called “Bring Back My Man” candles. To those unfamiliar with the culture, these products may seem more like gag gifts rather than actual treatments. But to Botanica patrons, they’re real solutions to emotional trauma and physical pain.
Chris Ochun is the Head Santero Priest at Original Products. He uses divination rituals to help customers understand what’s troubling their bodies and spirits.
“We try to help them out with whatever is going on in their lives, and utilize whatever spiritual means we have to try and give them balance,” Ochun said.
Ochun says medical and spiritual needs often intertwine. He recalls one woman who recently claimed she felt a spirit crawling all over her body.
“Personally I freak out when I hear that,so im thinking bugs or something like that,” Ochun said. “For some reason she was having some skin rash that was going on in her body. So we gave her some selected herbs, like there’s this Spanish one called Prodigiosa and Aloe Vera, which is pretty known. And it’s actually helping her out.”
Ochun says his products can be very beneficial. But he says when people come in with serious illnesses, he recommends they see medical professionals. But Ina Vandebroek with the New York Botanical Garden, says many immigrants hesitate to do so. She’s studied the use of medicinal plants in New York’s Caribbean and Hispanic communities.
“Well it’s a common complaint that pharmaceuticals cure one organ but then they hurt another, like you take something to help your liver but then you get a stomachache,” Vandebroek said. “That reason was even more important than the fact that medicinal plants may be cheaper than pharmaceuticals.”
Vandebroek recommends physicians have open dialogues with patients who use herbal and spiritual remedies in order to provide the best all-around care.
– See more at: http://www.wfuv.org/content/alternative-treatments-botanicas