Aftermath: Regaining Perspective on Local Food after the Volcano

I was lucky. I flew home from a long trip in Eastern Europe just a day or so before the volcano in Iceland erupted and consequently disrupted all air travel in and out of Europe. Natural disasters and major events have the innate ability to expose glitches in and insufficiencies of our systems and infrastructure, and this event was no exception. The fact that planes couldn't fly wasn't a surprising repercussion of the volcanic eruption. But one of the less obvious consequences that reared its head in the aftermath was most poignantly demonstrated in the produce from Kenya that, due to the ash, were unable to be delivered to the European markets.

The stories and images that emerged regarding the tons of vegetables and other produce stranded and left to wilt in Africa as the aviation ban persisted revealed two big sustainable food issues. First, Europe, like much of the world, is quite dependent on food that is imported from far and wide. Secondly, the fact that thousands of tons of perfectly edible food left to go to waste or, as according to one New York Times Article, be used as "cow food,"  is very sad, and most startlingly so in a developing country where food security is such an enormous issue. This posting, of course, won't adequately address either of these topics, but might give a glimpse as to how they work in tandem.

First things first: While staying in Germany, I made it a priority to peruse the aisles of grocery stores and market stalls in search of organic and local foods. There were quite a few options, although from a visual perspective at least, there wasn't the same abundance or vitality that you experience in an American Whole Foods-type store (which, it should be noted, is perhaps not a reflection on the dedication to or preference for organic and local in Germany, merely the show-y, bigger is better mentality of the U.S.?). At the outdoor markets there were more local offerings—spring greens from green houses in Austria, sausages from every region—but alongside heaps of tropical fruits imported from Asia and South America, and every kind of vegetable and flower, most likely flown in from Africa. Maybe Germany is far ahead of the U.S. when it comes to eating healthfully, organically, and locally, but they certainly still very dependent on the luxury imported food to fill their supermarket shelves.

Of course, the volcano and subsequent halt of air transport did not mean that Germany or any other European country ran out of food, they couldn't get quite so many fresh flowers and gourmet vegetables. And even if supermarkets started to run a little low, there were producers from other corners of the world, like New Zealand, that were not as impacted by the cloud. In spite of the ash cloud, the European consumer wouldn't suffer. But as is often the case, the producers were hit much harder. Many Kenyans who work in growing, harvesting, and packaging vegetables for far-off grocery stores were suddenly out of a job. This is a crisis in itself, but is compounded by the fact that in a country where so many are hungry and malnourished, tons of perfectly good food must go to rot. The added irony is that so many of the vegetables left to waste were varieties that most Kenyans would not normally eat or be familiar with.

These two threads, brought to light by the volcano, speak volumes in the case for more localized food systems. With this natural event we were reminded yet again that no matter how "green" we try to be, the Western world is still so heavily reliant on food from parts of the developing world that can grow it and package it on the cheap. And we are reminded of the real producers on the other end of the line, who grow our fresh vegetables and ship them thousands of miles by air at our demand, and are most likely eating a lot more locally and sustainably than we are every night.