(insert bee pun)

Today something remarkable happened. As I was cutting some steel bars to make new windows for one of the buildings, I noticed a strong droning sound. There are two beehives here at Hasera, so it was I sound I was used to. But today it was much louder than usual. I went to see what was up, and saw a huge number of bees swarming around one of the beehives. Govinda and Vishnu (one of the workers on the farm) were there throwing water and wood ash into the swarm. You could hear the drone from all over the farm.

I asked Govinda what was happening and he told me that the hive was splitting. Every so often (once or twice a year), a healthy, growing hive will split. A queen is born, and if there are enough bees to follow her out, they go in search of a spot to build a new hive. Thousands of bees were flying around looking for a new place to make home. We threw water and wood ash to irritate the swarm, so that they would quickly settle somewhere near. Otherwise, the queen may travel miles before settling down. When exposed to such irritants the swarm will settle quickly and nearby.

Sure enough the bees began to swarm around and collect on a nearby tree. Having predicted which tree they would land on (Govinda is that good), we had placed a basket smeared with honey on a branch. The bees started investigating the basket, and then Vishnu started gently nudging the bees in. The queen herself (who is all you really need) is nearly impossible to pick out, but based on the movements of the swarm you can guess her location. Once in the basket, the queen and her entourage are escorted to a new hive.

This whole process is more of an art than a science and it requires quick thinking and calmness. It’s easy to get quite excited being surrounded by so many bees zipping about, but stillness of mind is the name of the game. You must come to terms with the fact that you probably won’t get stung, but you absolutely could. Today it went pretty smoothly (the only casualty being Govinda, who got stung on his lip…) and now there are three hives at Hasera.

Vishnu collecting the bees in the basket

Somewhere in there is the queen

Govinda smearing honey on the walls of the new hive,
a sort of housewarming gift

Behold: the new hive

Hasera

Here in the mid-hills of Nepal, in the district of Kavre, in a little village called Patlekhet, is a farm called Hasera. The name Hasera comes from three colors: Hariyo (green) Setho (white) Ratho (red). Hariyo is for fruits and veggies, white is for dairy products, and red is for meat products. Ha Se Ra.

But Hasera is not really a production farm. Hasera is primarily a training and research farm. It was started some twenty years ago by Govinda Sharma and his wife Mithu. After studying agriculture in the Netherlands, Govinda started the farm using the principles of permaculture and his own traditional Nepali farming background. Govinda and Mithu conduct many different trainings, from three-day organic farming courses for local farmers to a fourteen-day comprehensive International Permaculture Design Course (which has so far had members from seventy-four different countries).

Besides the trainings, Govinda conducts research on the farm and in the surrounding area. Studying which varieties of crops give the best yields in this area, testing different methods of irrigation, and documenting the use of chemicals and their effects in the village farms, this research is done to benefit the farming communities in Patlekhet and the surrounding areas. Govinda also has a quite extensive seed bank of local varieties of crops, and encourages the farmers in the area to avoid hybrid and GMO seeds, in addition to raising awareness about the effect of chemical pesticides and fertilizers on the land and people.

Hasera also has many volunteers, foreign and Nepali (or in my case foreign and Nepali) come through to learn, help out, and exchange ideas. I will be here for about three or four weeks, hopefully to get a taste of the practice of permaculture. 

The front of the farm with the nursery below

Waste not! Compost toilets mean all our human waste is
used in the garden

Different varieties of local barley

View from the top of the farm, with the valley below

Water collection pond behind the animal shed

Building a terrace

Finished product

The front patio (AKA Zone 0)

Musings

After about a month and some change, I left the Farm House in Kapan on the second day of Tihar. I celebrated the holiday with my family and then afterwards I made the journey to my next destination in Kavre, to the village of Patlekhet.

Leaving Kapan was difficult. After spending a month I very much felt at home there. What's more, I really felt like a part of the family. Living, eating, and working alongside the people there really brought me close to them. And I could tell that they felt close to me too. Many foreigners and volunteers come and go through the Farm House, but perhaps because I am Nepali there was more of a frankness and an openness in our relationships. Whatever it was, by the end I felt completely a part of the ecology there, like the farm house had completely accepted me.

The funny thing is, this feeling really only felt solid the last couple of days. That's not to say that I didn't feel at home the rest of the time, rather I didn't realize how much the place was a home to me until the very end. At any given moment I was simply thinking about which plants needed water, or how many beds needed to be dug, or maybe how beautiful the sunset was (the sunsets at Kapan were soooo beautiful). And sometimes I couldn't help but focus on the more challenging aspects. It was only upon looking back that I realized how incredibly I adapted to the rhythms of the Farm House. I thought about how different things were compared to when I was just starting. How much more naturally I moved and worked, how much more sure my footfalls were. I realized how much I valued the presence of all the humans (and non-humans) there, and how much they had come to value mine.

Maybe that's what home is like: the kind of place where you fit in so naturally that you don't even realize it; you don't even conceive of yourself as separate. Maybe the feeling of truly being at home is the kind of thing that I can only feel looking back, only realizing after the fact how much a part of something I was.

I don't know. But anyway, I've said my farewells to Kapan and I am off to Patlekhet. Another post is coming soon but until then you check out the place I'm staying at here,

Goodbye Cancho Dai, Moto Dai, Parvati Didi, Ama, Sandip,
Bandi, Kesang, Yankila, and Mila

Tihar

This past week has been the festival of Tihar, the second most important holiday after Dashain. Tihar is a five day festival that started on Monday.

Each day of the holiday is dedicated to a different animal. Monday was Kaag Pooja (crow day) where people gave pooja (offerings) to the crows of Kathmandu, placing plates of rice and sweets for them. The next day was Kukur Pooja (dog day). People honor their own pets and also invite the stray dogs of Kathmandu (of which there are many) into their homes. Dogs are given malas (garlands of flowers) and tikas (a mark on the forehead signifying sacredness) and are offered all sorts of treats. Wednesday was Gai Pooja (cow day) where cows are celebrated. This day is also Lakshmi Pooja, where the goddess Lakshmi is honored. Thursday was Goru Pooja (bull day) where the male bovines get some love.

The final animal celebrated was on Friday, which is Bhai Tika (younger brother day). On this day brothers are honored by their older sisters (who sometimes probably consider them animals). In Nepal the brother/sister relationship is broadened to include first cousins. I took time off starting on Lakshmi Pooja to celebrate the holiday with my family. I am pretty young in my family so I had six older sisters give me blessings. During Bhai Tika gifts are also exchanged.

Another pretty cool part of the festival is Lakshmi Pooja. On this day people make beautiful circular patterns (rangoli) out of colored sand in front of their houses. People also light candles and oil lamps and drape lights over their homes (this part of the festival is also called Diwali). They leave their doors open and draw paths out of red clay from the rangoli to the inside of their houses in order to invite Lakshmi, the goddess of prosperity, into their homes. Young people take this opportunity to go from house to house playing music and singing and dancing, for which they receive sweets and money. This is also the festival of fireworks!

The nights are lit up during Tihar

It's a good time to be a dog in Kathmandu

Gai Pooja, honoring cows

Sun Up to Sun Down

I’ve been at the farm here at Kapan for about a month, and I’ve gotten into a sort of routine. Here’s what a typical day looks like.

I wake up around six, just as the sun is starting to rise, and do an hour of yoga. Tea (green, black, or with our own buffalo milk) is served around seven, and we start working. In the morning, the main task is harvesting and packaging vegetables to be sent to the market. We do this every morning, in addition to other tasks that need to get done. We just transplanted cauliflower and broccoli on the former rice terraces, so I’ve been watering them every morning for about a week now. There are dozens of beds of the transplants, so it usually takes me until the first meal to finish.

In Nepal, we run on a two meal system. After tea (and maybe some fruit) the first meal is eaten around nine or ten. A typical Nepali meal consists of dal (lentil soup) bhat (rice) tarkari (veggies, usually cooked into a curry). With a little bit of spicy achar (pickle) on the side, this is a meal I never get tired of.

After eating it’s back to work. Weeding, cutting grass to feed the animals, digging beds, building/repairing structures, collecting firewood, tilling soil, transplanting, the list goes on. We work until the sun goes down. At around one or two we take a break and take tea with a snack, (khaja) usually of chiura (beaten rice). As it starts to get dark we bring the animals back in and put tools away. Now is also a good time to water plants.

After dark I wash up and then start to help in the kitchen. The farm house also serves as a restaurant/bar, with almost all of the items being grown/produced/fermented on the farm itself. I’ve been helping with cooking and preparing dishes, as well as serving guests. The spots to sit and eat/drink are placed throughout the farm, making for a unique (and pretty cool) experience for diners.

At the end of the day, around seven or eight, we eat dinner (dal, bhat, tarkari). After cleaning up we hang around for a bit, maybe to play cards or just generally kick it, and then I go back to my room. It’s lights out for me around ten, and then after a good night’s sleep I'm up again with the sun.

Broccoli we transplanted onto the terraces

Beds of simi (green beans) with cauliflower in between

Seats and tables at the edge of the farm (comes with a great view of the city)

Hello Mr. Goat!

Mixed beds of cauliflower, tomatoes, salad greens

A young cow we got just two weeks ago

A view of one part of the farm

Do y'all remember the book Holes?