The bright autumn day in the Snake River Canyon is quiet except for the whisper of wind and the hiss of white wheat sliding down a chute into a barge.
When the barge is full, it will sit 13 feet lower in the water, and a tugboat will haul it from the loading facility downriver to Portland, Ore. Then ships can transport the grain to war-torn Afghanistan where people, many displaced by the fighting, desperately await American food aid.
The U.S. government’s attempt to feed the Afghan people while waging war on the Taliban regime has put farmers here in a complex stew of issues mixing patriotism with politics and profits. While they embrace the roles of ambassador and humanitarian, some worry about whether their grain will fall into the wrong hands, be poisoned or used as a propaganda tool. And, while they hope to benefit from higher prices if their grain is used for aid–these are tough times for farmers–they fret over the possibility of losing still more markets to the vagaries of politics and war.
The Bush administration’s recent announcement that it would buy $6 million in wheat for aid from Kazakstan in Central Asia added another layer of anxiety. Pacific Northwest white wheat is the leading U.S. export to Afghanistan, making this the breadbasket of a starving nation. But major markets have been lost before during times of upheaval in the Middle East and nearby regions. Almost 90 percent of the white wheat grown in the United States is exported, much of it to volatile corners of the world.
Wheat as a political tool
“Wheat historically has been a political tool,” said Dan Hille, who raises white wheat on a farm near Ritzville. “That’s good and it’s frustrating at the same time.
“I guess the concern is, how long-term is this, and are we going to lose another market,” he said. “Over time we’ve lost so many through government sanctions. Iran was our biggest customer once.”
The unique but tenuous connection that farmers here have to Afghanistan is a grain that is softer, sweeter and chewier than the hard red variety grown in the Midwest. U.S. aid officials have said they will buy more Pacific Northwest white wheat, but farmers in Washington–the top producer with more than 2.6 million acres spread across some 9,000 farms–are adopting a wait-and-see attitude.
“American farmers have always taken pride in feeding the world,” Hille said. “You want to do what’s right; you don’t want anybody to go hungry. But when there are policies out there that affect your income, you have to question things.”
If the situation is urgent and wheat from nearby countries can be trucked to Afghanistan quicker, farmers here say they support such limited wheat purchases by the U.S. government.
“Wherever people are starving, we support getting aid there as quickly as possible,” said Tom Mick of the Washington Wheat Commission.
By buying wheat from Kazakstan, aid officials hope to truck food immediately to Afghanistan and stockpile it before the onset of harsh winter weather, said Susan Phalen of the U.S. Agency for International Development.
“Winter is setting in, and in some areas the snow will be 20 to 30 feet deep, making routes impassable,” she said. “The rush is to get there before that happens.”
Shipments to Afghanistan
Wheat shipped from Portland takes six to eight weeks to reach Afghanistan, Phalen said. More than 65,000 metric tons of U.S. wheat sent Sept. 15 is scheduled to arrive this week, she said, and another 100,000 metric tons shipped Sept. 27 is crossing the Pacific Ocean.
It isn’t easy for people here to relate to a war-ravaged country halfway around the world. “I can’t even imagine what those people are going through, seeing the sky light up at night and watching their children go hungry,” Hille said.
But while the farmers who gather for breakfast at Jake’s for Steaks in Ritzville don’t talk much about world events, 50 trains a day wail through town with carloads of grain bound for distant markets.
Washington farmers are used to the idea of their wheat being exported to hot spots–“My only problem with that is how do you really know where it’s going?” Ryan Donohue said–and they have resigned themselves to the inherent uncertainties and distasteful politics of such markets.
“When we sold wheat to Russia in the ’70s, there were people who mumbled and grumbled then about selling to your `enemies,’ ” Jerry Snyder said.
Doing a good deed
But Snyder is glad when he thinks about his harvest going to help those in Afghanistan. “I think it’s a really cool idea,” he said. “There is no reason people should be starving in this world.”
Though John Anderson, a warehouse executive, worries sometimes that the wheat could go not to hungry war refugees but to members of the Taliban who might poison it, farmer Ross Heimbigner has made peace with the risks inherent in helping the Afghan people.
“Not all people over there are bad,” said Heimbigner, 51, of Ritzville.
“It’s no different than the Soviet Union. We shipped wheat to them when they were a communist nation,” he said. “And eventually I think that helped bring them to a free market.”
This idyllic corner of America holds surprising reminders of how faraway wars have affected this area. Jay Takemura, a 47-year-old Asian-American farmer who lives in Dayton, Wash., grew up outside Seattle. At the outset of World War II, his father was placed in internment camps for several months before getting out and going into the Army to fight for the country that had persecuted him.
People’s reactions
Takemura has read news accounts of the backlash against Muslims with more than passing interest.
“People react differently in a crisis,” he said. “People who take out their frustrations that way probably don’t know a lot about history.”
For his part, Takemura believes it is important to distinguish between the good and the bad among people of any race or ethnic group–and he feels good about helping the people in Afghanistan, especially if he can profit in the process.
But Takemura and most other farmers have a job to do that precludes thinking too much about government policies.
“I can’t worry about it,” Donohue said. “We’re dryland wheat farmers, and it’s just survival every day. We just hope it rains.”
Even during this, the slowest time of the year–a season when seeding is done and there is little to do except pray for a good harvest and repair machinery–farmers always can find ways to stay busy. But what Donohue did after harvest took neighbors by surprise.
Puzzle unravels
Four days after the attacks, Donohue’s neighbors saw him working haltingly in a dormant field that weeks before had yielded spring white wheat.
At first they were puzzled. Was he having trouble with his combine?
Then they saw what was happening: Into the hillside stubble, Donohue was cutting the enormous letters U, S and A.
“I was just feeling a little emotional and wanted to show some patriotism,” he said.
