Written by Peter Kostishack, Director of Programs
The forests of Totonicapan cover about 45,000 acres – an impressive reach in the densely populated aldeas in this central part of Guatemala near Quetzaltenango. The forests range from secondary growth to newly planted seedlings, but by far the most awe-inspiring are the dark, cool groves of old growth pines, with hundred-year old trees that tower above us in a way that reminds me of California’s Sierra Nevada. More remarkable than this large, intact forest in an area where farming has stripped surrounding hillsides, are the people who have dedicated themselves to protecting them. The twenty-eight communities that steward these forests are Quiche Maya, descendants of royalty who settled in this valley centuries ago. For them, a healthy forest signifies clean water, and they continue a long-held tradition of protecting and tending to their trees.
Each year these communities appoint a select few as ‘forest guards’ to protect and steward their precious surroundings. It’s a full-time, unpaid job, and a daily sacrifice spent patrolling, planting, tending to springs, and countless other tasks needed to maintain the forest. Yet, the charge is a compelling duty to their community, and while they safe-guard local water sources, their neighbors share the responsibility of providing food for their families. With the added support of a Greengrants grantee, these guardians and their communities have united their commitment to protect local forests and waters into a remarkable and sustainable tradition.
The organization Ulew Che’ Ja’ is made up of water council representatives from of each of the surrounding twenty-eight communities. For more than fifteen years, Ulew Che’ Ja’ has been building awareness and capacity for co-management of the forests in the watershed. Greengrants has supported them with a several small grants over the last four years, which have enabled the organization to conduct impressive reforestation efforts, educate communities and children about the connection between forests and water, and protect the endangered Guatemalan Fir.
As we walk through a dense field of 15-year old trees, I’m told that visiting foresters have criticized the close placement of the trees, a practice that makes for lousy timber. But that’s never been the point for these communities. Ulew Che’ Ja’ has mobilized thousands of people, of all ages, to reforest this land, and to keep it that way. They’ve also mapped out over 1,200 water sources in the forest and painstakingly built small cement boxes around each of them – all numbered and locked – in order to protect the pristine waters. Downstream, this water is carried through pipes to communities as far as 13km away using an impressive distribution system built entirely by local communities and without the help of government or private utilities.
As we talk about the water, a woman and her children lead a small flock of sheep up through the clearing. The sheep have screen muzzles over their mouths, a safeguard that the community requires when sheep are led through the forest to their pastures in order to prevent them from eating tree seedlings. The communities also have their own systems of justice to penalize members who cut down trees: offenders and their families are denied access to water for a period of time, erasing any doubt about the direct consequences of forest loss. More than 30,000 people rely on the water from these forests. In one way or another, just about every one of them is involved in their protection.
This region is testament to the power of traditional, community-based forest management, and the value in placing the future of forests in the hands of those who have the most commitment to their conservation. And there are many more examples like this one, all around the world. I hope this glimpse has given you the hope that it inspired in me.