REVIVING ANCIENT ROOTS

In the heart of Mexico City, floating gardens form a model for sustainable urban farming, bridging centuries-old Indigenous practices with a growing population’s demands.

By Romina Cenisio

It’s rare to witness a natural environment as it was before modern civilization. Almost nothing is left untouched by the ever-growing needs of society as development expands further outside city limits. Forests that once flourished are now identical boxes lined up in rows or glass buildings that jut up from asphalt. It’s even rarer, then, that in Mexico City—one of the most densely populated cities on Earth—one might visit a nexus of the past and future, where pre-Hispanic history still exists as it was.

On weekends, the wetlands of Xochimilco are well-known to tourists and locals alike, for drinking and partying on colorful flat-bottomed boats. These trajineras guide you through lush canals, traversing a swirling maze of mariachi bands and vendors selling micheladas and elote. Just beyond the rambunctious party zone, an ancient oasis serves another function. Only about 26 kilometers from Mexico City’s historic center, roughly 800-year-old floating gardens called chinampas are being revived with Indigenous knowledge to serve their original purpose: urban agriculture.

When the Spanish arrived in Mexico in the early 1500s, they were amazed to find Tenochtitlan, the capital of the Aztec Empire. It was one of the most advanced civilizations and biggest cities in the world at the time. We all know the tragic history that followed: The Spanish destroyed the Aztecs, building churches quite literally on top of their pyramids and draining the lakes that provided them with life. The chinampas that once thrived were largely destroyed. Luckily, some survived along with pockets of Indigenous people, and while the modern expansion of Mexico City has caused more loss, roughly 5,000 acres remain today. This marvel of ancient agricultural engineering and some ruins in the city center are the only surviving vestiges of Tenochtitlan.

It’s believed that, around 950 BC, the Toltec people discovered that the soil at the bottom of the shallow lakes of Xochimilco was extremely nutrient-rich. They developed these fertile farmlands by laying interwoven reeds connected by stakes to the bottom of the lake bed. Then they piled layers of decaying vegetable matter and soil until it reached the surface of the water, creating a natural drainage system that allowed for the flow of water and sediment. Once full, the sediment was dredged up and added to the top of the chinampa—a constant supply of fertile land for the island. Ahuejote trees, a type of local willow, line the exteriors, grounding the chinampas with their roots to prevent erosion. The islands are able to absorb groundwater (which is very helpful amid frequent droughts) so they require less external irrigation than other farmlands. This system proved ideal for bountiful harvests and acted as an early model for sustainable farming that’s still in use today.

Translating from Nahuatl to “where the flowers grow,” Xochimilco has also been the main supplier of flowers to the region since its foundation. From invoking the spirit of the gods to acting as medicine or paint for sacred books, these blooms are central to the community’s culture. The trajineras, for example, are decorated with paintings of endemic flowers. And cempasúchil, the marigolds seen at Day of the Dead celebrations, are believed to lead the souls of the deceased to their altars.

While the Toltecs created the chinampas, it was the Aztecs who, 200 years later, adopted and streamlined them, yielding crops to address food scarcity and feed their growing empire of a whopping 200,000 inhabitants. A common challenge that modern cities face was once shared by a growing Tenochtitlan: food scarcity. City dwellers are disconnected from the knowledge of where our food comes from. We often take for granted the fragility of supply chains, as well as the complex and grueling work that goes into growing lots of produce.

While many chinamperos—the Indigenous community that depends on and cultivates the chinampas—never stopped tending to the land, it was the arrival of the COVID-19 pandemic that catalyzed a new era of urban agriculture. The city’s biggest wholesale market, La Central de Abasto, was shut down during the quarantine. Local families struggled to access fresh produce. With supply chains disrupted, the city was forced to lean on ancient knowledge.

About 14 years ago, Lucio Usiobago, a philosophy major and agriculture enthusiast, opened a small produce shop to serve his community. He eventually was introduced to the chinampas and the families who live off them. He was impassioned by the ancestral knowledge, and with a few friends, founded Arca Tierra—a network of local experts who work to rehabilitate chinampas, connecting them with consumers in Mexico City. At the onset of the pandemic, they collaborated with farmers to offer baskets of produce for local delivery at affordable prices. A symbiosis emerged at the right time, bringing about revived interest in sustainable farming. A crucial part of Arca Tierra’s model is centering farmers instead of consumers, providing them with the support they need.

These days, Arca Tierra has expanded its business to offer eco-tours to people who want to experience the magic of these little islands. According to Marketing Director Joahna Hernandez, their earliest and most successful partnerships have been with chefs. “They’re the perfect spokespeople, since they are investing in agriculture,” she explains to me one rainy morning from her home office in Mexico City. One of Arca Tierra’s most popular experiences is a sunrise breakfast on the chinampas. It’s a true full-circle, farm-to-table meal, where guests eat upon the very land where their meal was grown. As of now, Arca Tierra works with 40 families in Xochimilco, Puebla, and Hidalgo to maintain a full-scale offering.

“We’ve realized through the work at the chinampas that humans can be a positive agent… as long as we want to, and as long as we work with nature, not against it,” Hernandez notes. The chinampas grow staple ingredients for a local diet: tomatoes, beans, squash, chili peppers, and maize, to name a few. Recently, they started partnering with regenerative ranching families, whose cows add protein to their menu.

Noé Coquis is a third-generation chinampero. Now 42, he’s been working the land since he was 10 years old. “We have always dedicated ourselves to the chinampas,” he says. “Doing a job with love and affection motivates us to continue preserving the land.” He’s now passing on the legacy, teaching his son that which he learned from his father and grandfather. He believes that the work they do is fundamental—especially since it’s carried out on the land they inherited from their ancestors. The Xochimilcas were the first tribe to settle in the Valley of Mexico. They worshiped 16 deities. The local church of San Bernardino de Siena was built on top of their ceremonial site, dedicated to Cihuacóatl, goddess of fertility. She came to symbolize the agricultural region and was believed to be the protector of the chinampas and their people.

The chinampas provide crucial resources to the locals, beyond food—they’re considered the lungs of Mexico City. Xochimilco is also protected as a UNESCO World Heritage site for its cultural and historical significance. Within this conservation area, at least two percent of the biodiversity in the world is held, and 11 percent of all the biodiversity in Mexico. Roughly 89 species of migratory birds can be found here, as well as the adored and critically endangered axolotl—an endemic species of salamander which, aside from being unjustly cute, is studied by scientists for its incredible ability to regrow limbs and stem cells.

Roaming the chinampas feels like being transported to prehistoric times, where mist hangs heavy in the air and the fauna is engorged with green so bright you have to squint to adjust your eyes. During sunrise, the saturated oranges and reds of the sky dance with the swaying foliage, and the chinamperos start their morning routines. Some hundred miles of canals weave within Xochimilco, and the locals know these water roads like the backs of their hands, rowing in canoes from island to island, greeting one another as they pass.

Like many natural environments that survive to exist in an urban city, Xochimilco and the chinampas experience challenges. Water pollution, habitat loss, and unethical tourism contribute to the degradation of the area; many locals rent their chinampas for sports, or leave to find work in the city. Thankfully, there is a renewed interest in the field, and many local organizations are accelerating the movement. Arca Tierra now have their own nonprofit that teaches young people about the chinampas, in hopes that they will be inspired to become chinamperos. The tradition won’t be lost to future generations. “We don’t own any knowledge. We’re just trying to make the means so that it doesn’t disappear,” Hernandez explains.

In 1938, Andé Breton, leader of the Surrealist artists, visited Mexico and declared: “Don’t try to understand Mexico with reason; you’ll have more luck looking to the absurd—Mexico is the most Surrealist country in the world.” Each time I visit Xochimilco, I’m reminded of this sentiment. It’s impossible to visit Mexico and not feel overwhelmed with bliss by the sounds, smells, and scenery. A millennia of tradition and history can be felt in the abundance of flowers, food, and wildlife. After all, existing in a verdant ancient wetland doubling as a sustainable farm in one of the biggest cities in the world is, quite simply, absurd. It’s really no surprise that, in our hyper-digital reality, ancient knowledge will lead us into the future.