Back in the early 1940s, when the last big insect war was still raging, dragonflies, cicadas, butterflies and other flying insects from north of the border visited the Mexicali Valley to recruit bees from that Mexican agricultural region. They came with offers of great pay and extraordinary work benefits, unmatched then on either side of the border. They explained to the Mexicali bees that their expertise was needed to help pollinate the farm fields in Imperial Valley, adding that their own bees had all been drafted to go fight a second version of “The insect war to end all insect wars.”
The Mexicali Valley bees, however, turned down that initial offer, along with multiple later offers made by that melting pot of insects from the other side.
“We’re happy here, living and working in this valley, helping pollinate different kinds of flowers and contributing to the growth of this land,” one of the queen bees told the representatives of the insects from the north, a team of envoys who were hoping for a different response.
“But it will be better in Imperial Valley, you know that; things are better there,” a cicada explained. “Besides, you will be greatly rewarded for coming to help us during these difficult times.”
“We’re fine here; we’ll just stay put,” the same queen bee replied. “We love this land.”
But the insects from the other side did not give up easily and continued to insist on getting pollination help from the Mexicali bees, more so after the first signs of spring were visible everywhere in that land.
“What do we need to do to get you to help us?” the cicada asked.
“Nothing, thank you, we’re fine here in Mexicali; there’s nothing you can do to get us to change our minds,” a different queen bee said to the cicada and to the other visiting insects from the north. “We love our cotton fields and all the trees that grow throughout our valley.”
“Again, we need your help in our valley. Please help us,” a dragonfly from the north said. “We will pay you well.”
After so much insisting, several Mexicali Valley bee colonies eventually decided to go north to help pollinate the crops across the border. But just as many swarms of bees stayed back to continue to spread pollen throughout that valley to the south, which was dotted with all types of vegetation too. There was not a house there, either, without something that was green: shade trees, vines, pomegranate and fig trees, and various kinds of decorative plants. Even the cactuses in that desert land had tasks for those tireless bees. The biznagas and other cacti depended on these indispensable Mexican workers to help them grow.
Once the decision was made to help pollinate the farmland across the border, colony after colony of Mexicali bees took off to the valley on the other side, flying over the border fence without a passport or a visa. They weren’t needed then. Swarm after swarm flew happily there, looking forward to help grow the vegetation in the neighboring valley. Once there, they began to toil in that land, transporting reproductive dust from one flower to another, and working tirelessly and smartly from sunup to nightfall. Soon after their arrival, those fields on the other side that for weeks had suffered from the lack of pollination, were now regaining their vigor and getting ready to bear fruit. There was greenery all over that land now.
“Thank you, thank you so much,” said a butterfly to a group of Mexicali bees that were busy working in Imperial Valley. “Thank you so much for all your hard work and for coming to help us.”
“No hay de qué,” said one of the migrant bees from Mexicali, meaning “you’re welcome.”
But with the passing of time, the situation changed. A couple of years later, the big insect war was over and some of the bees that had been sent to fight that second version of “The insect war to end all insect wars” were now returning home. Swarm after swarm of those American bees were soaring back to that valley. Once there, however, they found out that there was no pollination work left for them to do. The Mexicali bees were doing it all now and doing it well, so well that the insects farming those fields already had plans to continue to employ the bees from Mexico, forever and ever. The American bees, though, were not about to remain silent, and do nothing about it, so they organized a meeting with the insects that cultivated those lands, to force them to get rid of the Mexican bees.
“Look at our fields,” said a dragonfly during the meeting with the returning bees. “They’re blooming beyond measure. The Mexicali bees are doing a great job.”
“We won’t have it,” said one of the queen bees from the swarms from the north. “This is our land. The Mexican bees must be sent back to the place where they came from.”
“But they’re doing an amazing job, those Mexican bees,” replied the dragonfly. “Besides, we had to beg to get them to come help us.”
“It doesn’t matter; this is our land, and it is for us to work it,” said another queen bee participating in the meeting. “Repeating what I just stated, this is our land, and if the Mexican bees are doing ‘an amazing job,’ as you say, they’re doing it just to make us look bad.”
“I’m sorry, but we must continue to employ those hard-working bees from the south,” said the dragonfly representing the group of insects that farmed the land on that side of the border.
“Fine. We’ll go to court to get our jobs back,” said another queen bee from the north just before the end of the meeting.
It didn’t take long for the case to be heard and for a judge to rule in favor of the bees from the north. The group of insects that farmed that land, though, appealed the case. More than once. Unfortunately, each appeal had similar results. Judge after judge ruled in favor of the bees that had gone to the big insect war. But it no longer mattered. While the insects that farmed that land were waiting for a verdict from the highest court in their land, the swarms of bees from Mexicali decided to return home after holding a quick group meeting to discuss the matter and to determine what to do next.
“We are not going to stay and work at a place that does not appreciate our labor,” stated a queen bee from one of the swarms.
All the other queen bees agreed with her and with her conclusion and before long all those bees that had come across the border to help pollinate the crops in Imperial Valley went home. They flew south, buzzing and humming happy sounds that could be heard above and below, and soon went to work there, on the Mexican side, again collaborating with the bees that had been left behind to pollinate those Mexicali Valley fields.
“We will never go north again,” said another queen bee as her swarm began to assemble their new beehive. “We will stay in Mexico until the last days of our lives.”
Dragonflies, cicadas, and butterflies from the north, however, soon returned to that south of the border region to again beg the Mexicali bees to return to Imperial Valley, but to no avail.
“We are happy here; this is our land and our true home,” said a queen bee that ruled in a beehive in a place called Paredones. “But thank you, anyway.”
The Mexicali bees kept their promise for years and years, to never again cross and fly over that line that defines where one country ends and the other one begins. Until one day, when the descendants of the bees from both valleys decided to join forces and work together, pollinating the crops on both the north and south sides of the border in a harmonious and concerted way. But it took many, many years for that to happen. Many, many years.
Colorín, colorado, este cuento se ha acabado.
This tale has come to an end.
AUTHOR: Pedro Chávez
