The Power of a Handshake

By Oscar elias

Oscar and GrizzlyCorps fellows Kirthana, Ada, Heather, Sarah, and Daniel at the Ecofarm Conference.

This time a year ago, I was in my first year of GrizzlyCorps, working for the UCCE Fresno County with their small farms team. I was a research assistant to the staff research associates focused on fieldwork. I worked with cover cropping, groundwater recharge, healthy soils, soil sampling, and so much more: if you mention a soil research method or farm practice, I probably had some experience doing it last year. My work boots lost their shiny brown leather look for a more sandy, Central Valley soil color. Every day started early and ended late, with the impacts of my work being seen immediately.

I spent much of my time working with small farmers around Fresno, speaking to them, teaching them through workshops, and learning how to work their fields alongside them. The connections were easy because I came into a team with previously established connections. I shook their hands, made small talk, talked about their farms, and met their friends and family. Sometimes, when we were lucky, they would offer us some fresh fruit and produce from their farms (which we always graciously took), and it was delicious. I learned their culture and goals for their farms and their experiences navigating farm life. Our team of extension researchers helped with on-farm logistics, technical assistance and education; it was community-driven and truly memorable. It felt good to make an impact that was noticed immediately, but when my time there ended, I was unsure what was next—until I received an offer for my second year of Grizzly Corps with another organization: Sustainable Conservation. 

This year, I find myself working in the same “field”, but in a fairly different role. My new fellowship is largely computer-based, yet I am still working on similar topics as last year, such as cover cropping, groundwater recharge, sustainable agriculture, and figuring out ways to represent the underrepresented. However, my new role has one large component: outreach. I’ve traded my fieldwork for conferences, my cover crop seeding for planning, and organizing outreach methods to plant seeds of collaboration. 

The work has shifted from the front lines, one level up. Nowadays, my dress boots see much more wear than my work boots. I shake the hands of people dressed formally like me, I smile and talk about the good work my organization is doing while they do the same. We try to figure out if there is common ground between us and how we can work together to help our communities, a stark contrast to getting up in the early morning to work the land.. As I settle into this role, removed from everyday field work, and networking with organizations and people who work with farmers, I find myself thinking about who my work is for, whether it is for farmers, or for those who work with farmers. I see fewer and fewer farmers and more organizations who work with farmers instead. When I go to some conferences, I begin to wonder if the growers’ needs are truly being represented, understood, and addressed, or if we are disconnected from some of the root issues affecting them. 

I attended a unique conference last month: EcoFarm. A 4-day conference filled with workshops, meetings, panels, discussions, and so much more. The conference centered around agriculture and tools for growers to use to help them in their endeavors. I was fortunate enough to go through work trade, meaning if I shared some of my time working at the conference I could attend at no cost. I thought it was a pretty sweet deal, but I did not know how invaluable it would truly be.

As a native Spanish speaker, I was assigned to help with the Spanish-speaking workshops. I assisted the presenters with setting up and greeting the attendees. One such workshop focused on creating a long-term business plan for Spanish-speaking growers. This was on day two of the conference, and the Hispanic growers I saw up to that point were few and far between, yet I stood at the door and waited to greet them. If you know anything about Hispanic culture, you know that you must greet everyone in the room you are going into or are welcoming in. One by one the growers came into the lecture space, and I greeted each one. More and more people came into the room, I was truly surprised at how many people showed up! They were so happy to be there and were eager to learn. The speaker began to talk and shortly transitioned into breakout sessions for the attendees to learn from each other. It was a wonderful sight to see: laughing and deep conversations about their land and their work. I felt at home in a place that could not have been farther from. By the end of the one-hour talk, I greeted and spoke with 58 attendees. 

The conversations I had with these growers brought me to a memory of my time as a park ranger in Yosemite. I was the only Spanish-speaking ranger in my office of frontline rangers. I worked with mostly English-speaking visitors, and some days I would find one or two families who only spoke Spanish and I would be there to help them. They were so grateful that they would share stories with me and tell me how excited they were to be there. It would always warm my heart to have those moments with them. The space I held for anyone who might have needed it in my work as a ranger is the same space I was holding for these growers at this conference and in my work in agriculture. These growers, against insurmountable odds, were able to come to this conference (not even knowing the language), and find a space for them to learn—and they leaped at the opportunity.

I remembered at that moment why I do my work: to help growers like them. I’ve spent time on farms with growers exactly like those I helped at the conference and I want to make sure that not only is there a space for everyone to learn, but the work we do recognizes the needs of the community we serve. I was reminded of the power of a handshake 58 times that day - I kept that in mind for the remainder of the conference. I shook the hands of others, listening to who may work in similar fields and who we can work together with to serve our communities. My work boots have not seen a lick of fieldwork since I started, and still, my footprints are lining my path. We do this work to be of service to others, to ensure the world will outlive us, and when the world feels grim—to be there to extend a welcoming hand.