In Yucatán, Mexico, a grassroots agroecology school blends ancestral knowledge and critical education to reclaim land, culture, and dignity. It shows how, amid systemic pressures, Indigenous and local autonomy can be built from the ground up.
Sanahcat, a Maya community in the north-central region of Yucatán, Mexico—about 45 kilometers from Mérida—was once part of the old zone where henequen (sisal) was cultivated—an agave plant whose fibers are used to make rope. For more than two centuries, people lived under the dominance of henequen monoculture.
More than a classroom, U Kuchil Tóoj Óolal is a return to ancestral forms of communal life.
This economic system thrived on the exploitation and impoverishment of the Maya population. When the henequen industry collapsed from the 1960s onwards due to the introduction of synthetic alternatives, the communities were left vulnerable, increasingly dependent on political parties and aid programs. That past, still very present today, has left deep divisions in the community and weakened the bonds that once held people together.
More than a classroom
From this wounded territory emerged U Yich Lu’um (‘The Fruit of the Earth’), a community-based organisation grounded in the belief that, as Maya philosophy teaches, time is circular: each cycle offers a chance to do things differently and better. It was in this spirit that in 2023, U Kuchil Tóoj Óolal, the Decolonising Agroecological School (not a literal translation), was born—not as a physical production space, but as a collective process of relearning. Far from being a purely technical exercise, the school aims to go beyond teaching how to grow healthy food. Inspired by Paulo Freire (see Sources), it promotes an experiential form of education that honours agricultural work, revitalises Maya culture, and strengthens people’s ability to feel indignation in the face of injustice.
“I didn’t know that what I was doing – and have always done – is called agroecology.”
– Yuli Moo Ku, participant in U Kuchil Tóoj Óolal
More than a classroom, U Kuchil Tóoj Óolal is a return to ancestral forms of communal life: rebuilding trust, valuing oral knowledge, practicing solidarity, sharing labour, reconnecting with nature, speaking the Maya language, and celebrating together. The healthy production of food is not an end in itself—it is the outcome of a holistic well-being: physical, spiritual, and collective. That is what Tóoj Óolal means.
This process advocates for a revival of a sense of community, countering the commodification of nature, production aimed at elite consumption, and the ‘folklorisation’ of culture. In this context, decolonising involves reclaiming land, language, joy, and dignity.
“Now I don’t think about selling my land, like my neighbours or like I did when I worked in construction. Now I want to work the land and leave it as an inheritance for my grandchildren.”
– Rodolfo López Poot, participant in U Kuchil Tóoj Óolal
We know, however, that to sustain and spread these processes, people’s basic needs must first be met. That’s why, alongside the educational process, families receive seed funding for access to safe water during droughts, preservation of native seeds, or simply the basic conditions needed for planting autonomy.
Contradictory recognition
Experiences like U Yich Lu’um in Sanahcat are far from isolated. A growing body of research, much of it reflecting community voices and social movements, shows that the most well-preserved areas on the planet are located within Indigenous Peoples’ and Local Communities’ territories. These are often called Territories and Areas Conserved by Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities (ICCAs) or simply territories of life.
The most well-preserved areas on the planet are located within Indigenous Peoples' and Local Communities' territories
Globally, the Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services (IPBES) highlighted already in 2019 that recognising the knowledge, practices, and governance systems of these communities not only enhances their quality of life but also is one of the most effective ways to protect biodiversity. This preservation is intentional—it results from a deep, historical relationship between people and the natural environments they inhabit.
In the same year, the High Level Panel of Experts on Food Security and Nutrition (HLPE) urged the UN’s Committee on World Food Security (CFS) to promote agroecological approaches with the active participation of local communities, as a holistic pathway to realise the right to food without harming nature.
Yet despite this growing recognition, top-down, imposed conservation models still prevail. A clear example is the global push to protect 30% of the planet through protected areas or other area-based conservation measures. These strategies are often designed without meaningful input from local communities, sidelining more grounded, place-based alternatives and undermining the autonomy of those who actually live on and care for the land.
Today, we live in a time of contradiction. On one side, Indigenous and local communities are praised for their conservation and sustainable production efforts. On the other side, their territories face growing pressure from corporate interests—often disguised as green policies. Recognition can be a double-edged sword: it may lead to legal dispossession and epistemic extractivism—the co-opting or erasing of community-based knowledge systems.
Building living networks for critical education
We are currently formalising a network of collectives and families connected to the U Kuchil Tóoj Óolal agroecology school. We believe that studies, laws, and international agreements alone are not enough to guarantee our rights. Truly valuing our ability to feed the world requires concrete action: strengthening our networks, globalising our struggles, and building critical education that empowers us to defend ourselves and propose alternatives rooted in our territories.
At the same time, it’s urgent that we dismantle the networks that co-opt the language of human rights for profit. As Indigenous Peoples and Local Communities, we must exercise our right to self-determination and autonomy to decide for ourselves what kind of support we need from the outside, and on our own terms. We can (and must) participate in decision-making spaces, but we must not legitimise external agendas. We do so to ensure our voices are heard, without losing sight of what truly sustains us: growing food, caring for the land, and living with dignity.
Author: Albert M. Chan-Dzul is Maya from the Yucatán peninsula and works at the Interdisciplinary Center for Research and Alternative Development, U Yich Lu’um, Mexico.
Source
- Freire, P. (2000). Pedagogy of the oppressed (30th anniversary ed., M. B. Ramos, Trans.) Continuum. (Original work published 1970).
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This article is part of Issue 3-2025: Weaving Resilience and Resistance
