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INSTITUTE OF SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY PUBLICATION NO. 13 



Nowadays, it is sold by kilogram, and the price 

 depends on various factors. Green vanilla invari- 

 ably brings a great deal less than does the dry 

 bean; quality also enters into the price, as does 

 supply. Those who can afford to, wait until Janu- 

 ary to sell to better advantage. 



For example, in October of 1946, the price for 

 green vanilla ranged from $4.00 to $9.00 pesos 

 the kilogram; in November, from $6.00 to $11.00. 

 However, by December, the price had risen to 

 $12.00 ; and by January, when the bean was par- 

 tially dried, from $12.00 to $14.00 pesos. For well- 

 dried vanilla, the Totonac receive $40.00 to $50.00 

 pesos. Picadura — oddments, such as broken beans 

 and lone ones which have been overlooked in the 

 same general harvest — go on the market in Jan- 

 uary, and bring about the same price. 



Unfortunately, most Totonac are not able to 

 wait until after the first of the year to sell their 

 vanilla. They need the money — particularly be- 

 cause the observances associated with All Souls' 

 Day are expensive. Moreover, a good many sell 

 early simply because they are afraid to have the 

 vanilla on hand, for it may be stolen and they 

 themselves liquidated in the bargain. 



A Totonac who no longer plants says flatly that 

 he is not interested in raising vanilla: "One 

 plants, one pollinates, and someone else harvests." 

 One of his sons was killed some years ago while 

 on his way to the vanilla field, and the father adds 

 sadly that he "prefers not to have money and to 

 keep his sons." 



One might almost say that theft is endemic to 

 the vanilla business, although most Totonac feel 

 that it has been on the increase during the past 

 few years. As the cutting season approaches, 

 theoretically, one should be on guard day and 

 night. However, many feel that discretion is the 

 better part of valor and make no effort to watch 

 the field, for harrowing tales are told of planters 

 who have tried to protect their holdings and who 

 have been murdered for their pains. Some, how- 

 ever, wander daily in the field; if they see evi- 

 dence of intruders, they make a brave show of 

 whistling and of chopping wood, in the hope of 

 discouraging the robbers. At this time of year, 

 a planter thinks twice before going to Papantla 

 for weekly purchases because the harvest may be 

 stolen during his absence. 



Practically everyone is agreed that local per- 

 sons are involved in the thefts. "Otherwise, how 

 could they find their way through the fields so 

 easily, and how could they know when one has gone 

 to town?" 



Even so, it is evident that the buyers in Papantla 

 are far from scrupulous and are quite content to 

 traffic with stolen property. With the ostensible 

 purpose of reducing theft, municipal authorities 

 in Papantla set November 15 as the date prior to 

 which it is illegal to sell green vanilla. This ruling 

 is just about as effective today as it was in the 

 eighteenth century (Bruman, p. 370). There are, 

 in fact, rumors of a sprightly contraband com- 

 merce in Papantla. At night, trucks are said to 

 enter town with stolen vanilla from Tuxpan and, 

 likewise during the night, the cargo is dispatched 

 from Papantla by muleback. State taxes ap- 

 parently encourage contraband activities. We 

 naively hoped to obtain a rough estimate of the 

 vanilla marketed through Papantla on the basis 

 of the tax proceeds. But a number of disinter- 

 ested citizens of that town assure us happily that 

 there is scant agreement between taxes and pro- 

 duction, since the big merchants find it more eco- 

 nomical to pay bribes in lieu of taxes. 



PRODUCTION 



Vanilla requires more capital than does maize. 

 The planter must have land, either owned or 

 rented; he must have sufficient funds with which 

 to buy cuttings ; and he must be able to wait until 

 the third year for any proceeds. Moreover, he 

 must be willing to gamble on rather poor odds, 

 because the crop fails frequently and because, to 

 boot, a large proportion of the harvest invariably 

 is stolen. 



Of the 36 families for whom we have detailed 

 information, 27 plant vanilla. Many plant on 

 rented lands, for which the charge normally is 

 higher than if maize were to be grown. Some 

 owners waive the rent until the third year, when 

 the vine begins to bear. Others charge $25.00 pesos 

 for half a destajo, $35.00 to $40.00 pesos for a full 

 one. After the first harvest, the rent may be raised 

 to $100 pesos; after the second, to $150. In no 

 case is the vanilla considered the property of the 

 landowner, and if, for any reason, the planter 

 withdraws from the field, he removes his vanilla 

 and plants elsewhere. 



