Dude, Crystals Dude

After spending a week in Gorkha with anarchist natural farmer Maki, I made my way back to Kathmandu to spend my birthday (the 25th) with my family. After that I made my way to Pharping, where I was meeting a friend. There's an NGO (non-profit, Non-Government-Organization) there that runs a school and does some organic farming. My friend grew up there, and asked me to come by to help out with the farm.

The place is called Crystal Earth Community, started by a Finnish woman named Diane who moved to Nepal some time back. Pharping is on the edge of the valley, and Crystal Earth is on top of one of the hills that surrounds Kathmandu.

Though the school is quite old, the agricultural activities are newer and they are facing some challenges, and so that is why my friend asked me to come help. Though I could only stay for a week (my time in Nepal is coming to an end...), I told him I'd be happy to come by and help. Upon arriving, I saw what my friend meant by "challenges." The soil is very, very poor. There is virtually no organic matter and the soil retains very little moisture. In addition to that, there is a shortage of water for irrigation also. And because it is so high up, the climate here is challenging too: very hot during the day, and extremely cold during the night and mornings. There even is a frost from time to time.

I am only here for a week, so I am limited in the amount of work I can get done, but I've been at least talking and planning with the people at Crystal Earth about working with the land here. The biggest thing that needs to be addressed is soil regeneration, so I've been working to improve the compost and manure, and also mixing compost into the soil to try and improve the organic matter content.

We also talked about turning potential challenges into opportunities, for example planting apple trees which would do quite well in the colder climate here. Also we talked about taking advantage of microclimates: the southern facing side of the hill gets enough sun to be warm enough to plant avocado, and the shaded side of the same terrace can hold apple and pear trees.

After digging compost out from an old pile, I realized there
could be a small pond to harvest rainwater. I dug channels
from the terraces that will bring the water

In addition to collecting water, the channels I dug serve as runoff channels for
rainwater, so the water does not run off of the terrace itself

Run-off channels prevent soil erosion, by guiding rainwater
through a single pathway, thus protecting the terrace topsoil

Though I am only here for a week, it feels good to know that I can come back
and continue to help the folks here grow from the land. And I have a feeling
I'll be back

Fukuoka

Meet Maki Gurung: a half-Nepali, half-Japanese, young farmer who lives in the village of Patishwora in Gorkha. Maki is a self-described anarchist, who after many years of political activism decided to return to his ancestral land in Gorkha and start farming the land, Fukuoka-style.

Manisoba Fukuoka was a Japanese farmer who, over the course of thirty years, developed a style of natural farming. Fukuoka's philosophy is that of no-till agriculture, with minimal human interference. Tilling the soil, he said, disrupts the natural ecosystems and organisms which sustain it, and creates a cycle which people then have to continue to always plow. Nature is perfect in the way it operates, and trying to change or "improve" it only creates more labor in the end. So Fukuoka's style involves scattering seeds on top of un-tilled fields, the propagation of wild vegetables, and minimal to no weeding (and in fact rethinking all-together the idea of what a "weed" is). Fukuoka wrote many books, most popularly One Straw Revolution, which I highly recommend to everyone, regardless of their interest in agriculture.

After learning of Fukuoka, and coming from a quite progressive farming family himself, Maki sought to prove the concept of natural farming. More than that, he wants to show that it's possible for anyone to live self-sufficiently and sustainably off of the land. In order to really prove that everyone can live this way, he chose the worst possible piece of land to work (seriously the worst land I've ever seen: horribly depleted, super heavy soil, and almost constantly in a state of drought.

Maki has an orchard, grows grains, and vegetables (though he's slowly weaning himself off of annuals). Walking through his orchard is like walking through a terraced forest. Because of the unique climate of the Nepali mid-hills, you'll find avocado, apple, and citrus on the same terrace.
This year, Maki hopes to be completely food self sufficient, the last piece of the puzzle being cooking oil (and salt, which will always have to be bought...). This was filled by nijier, a local wild plant whose seeds are quite fatty, and can make for good oil.

Going forward, Maki hopes to gradually move towards complete self-sufficiency. Next season he's growing cotton for clothes, and we just finished making enough soap for at least a year. Maki recognizes that it took Fukuoka thirty years to perfect his method, so he knows that he is in this for the long haul.

Nijier seeds drying, after we harvested, threshed, and
winnowed it 

Maki's project is also one of regeneration, and after many years of natural
 farming the soil will slowly regain it's health. To maintain this, he avoids
 tilling, only doing so if there is a failed harvest (which there was last season...
on the bright side, I got to learn how to plow with oxen!)

The soil is so bad that Maki made these bags, filled with
forest soil, to grow annual vegetables in. The bags allow
for spot irrigation, which saves a lot of water also. Next
season, Maki plans on digging pits and dumping the soil to
grow veggies.

Maki's house, which, since he does not believe in employing
people, he built himself

Permaculture Principles

Sorry for the lack of posts recently, but the internet here can be hard to get a hold of. Well here's what I've been up to for the past three weeks, starting at Hasera:

Hasera is designed completely with permaculture principles. This takes into account the design and placement of elements such as crops, the house, the kitchen, water, animals, etc. The major aspect of this sort of design is the combining and relative placing of elements to save on labor and resources.

The main framework for permaculture design is that of zones. A zone demarcates an area of the farm, and the relations and purposes served in that area. This design plan looks different depending on the unique needs and aspects of a particular place. Working at Hasera has given me a pretty good understanding of how things work here, so I can demonstrate how the zones work here:

Zone 0
This is home base. In this zone are the elements that are essential to everyday life or require daily or constant attention. This zone includes the house, kitchen, animal shed, and the office (during times when trainings are happening this includes the learning hall too). Zone 0 is often in the center of the land, with the other zones spiraling out respectively.

The front patio and house. The farm is on a north facing slope, so the patio was
designed with a slight slope towards the house to reflect sunlight and passively
warm the building, and to collect rainwater along a channel that leads to the
water harvest pond

The animal shed. One principle of permaculture is combining elements to
create harmonious relationships and save labor. Chickens take care of the bugs
that are bothersome to the cow and goats, and in return get a free meal. Also
note the pit on the right for easy manure collection

Zone 1
This zone is for the elements that need pretty consistent attention, such as a nursery or kitchen garden. Zone 1 should be placed so it can be seen without much effort, and should be easily accessible.

The kitchen garden, just under the kitchen itself

Covered nursery, directly visible from the house and patio

Zone 2
The next zone is for elements that need occasional attention. Most vegetable crops fall into this category. Also more intensive grains such as rice or wheat. This zone should be pretty easily accessible and observable.

Welcome to zone 2. Peep the ginger

Most of the vegetables are in this zone, which extends a few terraces up
behind the house

Zone 3
Zone 3 is for elements that may need to be checked up on once or twice a season, but for the most part are OK to be left on their own. Many less intensive grains (buckwheat, barley) are for this zone.

Ground apple, which produces a tuber that is sweet and
crisp, requires very little care

On the uppermost terraces, barley

Zone 4
Here are the elements that largely don't need checking up on. You don't have to visit this zone except for harvesting. Fruit trees are good for this zone, as is a food forest or other wild forage crops.

Zone 5
This zone is left completely untouched, for the moment. You don't expect anything out of it, and you don't put any work in. This doesn't mean that this zone serves no purpose. At Hasera, the outer perimeter of the land is left wild, and the tall trees such as bamboo make for a nice windbreak.

Line from a Permaculture Design Handbook

"Entropy and Lifeforce are a stable pair which maintain the Universe into infinity."

Leaving Home

Being at Hasera has been a great experience, and I feel close to the family. After being there for about a month, I left. I decided to leave for a few reasons. First, I guess, is simple entropy; all things come to an end and I had to leave eventually. Second, I met an American girl named Sam who told me about her friend who lives in Gorkha who has a very unique farm (more on this later...) and I wanted to squeeze it in before I go. And also, I went to go see my didi (older sister, in the Nepali sense) who just got a student visa for the US.

That is the the main reason that I left when I did. Applying for the visa was a sort of slim-chance kind of thing, and to everyone's surprise she got it. It came almost out of the blue. Next thing anyone knew, a ticket was cut and she only had a week left in Nepal. So I went to spend a couple days with her before she went.

So I said my goodbyes at Hasera and hopped on a bus back to Kathmandu. Everyone definitely felt a mix of emotions. Congratulations were in order and excitement for the future, but also there was also sadness at the prospect of her leaving home, and so suddenly at that. I was feeling it especially hard. Other people maybe didn't get why I was getting so sentimental. "This is a big opportunity," and "Oh, you'll get to see her in America". Besides the fact of geography (she's going to St. Louis, not exactly a quick drive down for me...), I know firsthand how hard it is being a Nepali immigrant in the US, and opportunity though it may seem, it isn't exactly what people think it will be. Plus, being in back in Nepal I've learned how important family is, and how important it is to be surrounded by culture. For my didi there's a different dimension of struggle in store, aside from just a material struggle: being an immigrant in the US is a psychological and spiritual struggle. I guess you could say I was feeling preemptively homesick for her.

Well anyway she has gone now; the giant metal bird has hopped the continents. And whatever happens is her's to experience. For my part, I'm getting on a bus to Gorkha.

Eco Pads

There is a small workshop near the front of the farm here at Hasera. In this workshop a group of women make 100% cotton, reusable, eco-friendly pads.

The shop, called LoveLady, was started by a Taiwanese woman, Claire, who came to Hasera to do a permaculture training, and then worked with Govinda to develop the idea of using locally sourced organic cotton to produce products for women to use when they are having their periods. The workshop employs five women from the village, who make pads, pantyliners, and hot water bottle covers.

In Govinda's own words, "As women are the major stakeholders to implement permaculture in their households, women's health promotion is one of the major needs for the promotion of permaculture in the village."

Claire sells the pads in shops here in Nepal, Taiwan, and California, as well as here at Hasera. The pads come in a variety of shapes, sizes, styles, and colors. Washable, reusable, and having a life of three years, they are a great natural and sustainable alternative to more common disposable pads.

The women in the workshop

Pantyliners, just one of the products made here

The front of the shop

(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?