Archive for the 'Reflection' Category

Thoughts on Our Daily Bread and Prison Farms

our daily bread chickens

Recently watched Our Daily Bread, a German documentary on modern food production from a couple years ago, and had mixed thoughts — which is really my preferred reaction to most issues and life in general. I found it to be both revolting, ugly and beautiful — poetic - the juxtaposition of repetitive and rhythmic work required to feed us, the shiny metal machines slicing through countless pig and cow carcasses, workers, human machines on their own, ripping out the guts out of animals continuously for hours in repetitive motions, the skinning of the carcasses by machines, constantly rotating…thousands and thousands of animals passing through slicers and cogs and rolling carpets, workers injecting semen into pigs by hand, and than the very same workers on their breaks eating their lunch (what looks like a ham sandwich in one case), on a smoke break, or workers riding a bus to get to work was a nice parallel.

our daily bread lunch break

I felt my body ache watching people do the back breaking repetitive labour required…watching workers crouched in lettuce fields, picking, bagging and placing packaged lettuce ready for the supermarket in crates in front of them monotonously, that slid into a moving truck car, with a plastic covering over the labourers with lights above so they could work throughout the night.

our daily bread spraying greenhouse

And this brings me to prison farms — CBC featured this story. Canada has 6 prison farms in the country but they are being shut down next year by mandate of the Conservative government. Which is a shame.

Proponents, like Margaret Atwood, advocate that prisons farms are great for inmates, allowing them to be productive, grow food for themselves, learn skills, earn a bit of money, and give them an opportunity to give back to the community via donations of the food they donate to food banks. A damn shame. This demonstrates a move away from focussing on rehabilitation and a move towards prison complexes à la United States. Having once volunteered with former prisoners in a small greenhouse, packaging sprouts for a food organization has shown me how effective and positive these type of programs are. I remember the camaraderie and pride shared by the men in being able to collectively grow sunflower and pea sprouts for consumption and how these skills would make them more employable in the future. It’s a tough sell though, many people do not feel any particular compassion for people who commit crimes, regardless of the circumstances or nature of the crime, preferring to see the world as white or black, good or bad. Which boggles my mind. CityFarmer lists the various reasons why we should save our prisons farms a lot more eloquently than I.

On that note, this reminds me of another story about Riverdale Farm. According to Sunday, Riverdale Farm ( read Lauren Archer’s post about the history - so fascinating!) and the land that stretches out all the way to the former Don Valley Jail used to be a prison farm back at the turn of the 19th and beginning of the 20th century, mostly inhabited by Scottish and Irish debtors aka poor people. This is apparent by the style of some of the resident houses at Riverdale Farm(particularly the former morgue– which is now the Resident House), some of the buildings’ scaffolding having brick designs layered in a particular style that is reminiscent of Scottish architecture. The prisoners were worked to death then though…

I suppose I am bias. I think we should have gardens everywhere, schools, community centres, malls, apartments, houses, parks, hospitals and various public and communal spaces — but I see the social benefits every day at work — especially as I have gotten to know many of the children in the past couple of years.

Times they are a changing

queen of klutziness

It's one giant cosmic joke.

I’ve been sorrily MIA and not writing as frequently as I’d like to. For good reason (and maybe a touch of laziness). I’ve had a few personal and interpersonal issues and health problems pop up rather unexpectedly in the past three months and have been dealing with what I can only call a series of misfortunes. I can only laugh. Really.

My friend Jay, who is similarly going through a rough year, jokingly said he was going to make a t-shirt saying “I survived Crap Storm 2010″.  I think I might actually consider getting a shirt made.

Through these various adversities, I have learned a lot about myself (and others!) and can actually appreciate the turbulence. The stagnancy that has been previously pervasive in my day to day was a lot worse. I rather feel and live honestly and happily — and am working towards living like that all the time after many years of not doing so.

Now possibly the kicker, and somewhat hilarious in my twisted mind is the following incident that happened two weeks ago:

I was trying to cut open a mangosteen open that my mother had given me with a knife. Now, I knew it probably wouldn’t taste good, because the skin was hard and not peeleable with fingernails. It had obviously travelled thousands of miles from Vietnam. But I persisted because I hardly ever eat them (maybe once a year?), figured it was worth a try, and was quite fond of them when I lived in Vietnam and they were available fresh. They are possibly my favourite fruit. Apparently they are also the new ’superfood’, according to trend hunters (whaevs I say!).

Continue reading ‘Times they are a changing’

Firsts

Eco Club cookingLast week I started this cooking program that I initiated at work with middle school students. We made lasagna “almost” from scratch, and a salad with homemade dressing. It was challenging, and there were some setbacks, however overall it was successful — although some remarked that the dressing was “too lemony” — they ate it up, the salad and lasagna.

While we ate I asked if they felt they could make the lasagna at home now. And they all said no. My heart sank a little, but I realized after telling Lara, who said: “Did you learn to cook well in one lesson?” — that I had unrealistic expectations. I certainly did not. Why should I expect these 12 and 13 year olds to be confidant and sassy in the kitchen after one workshop when they had little independent cooking experience?

Eco Club cooking

The following evening I attended my first hip hop class. My first dance class. I’ve never taken dance lessons. The closest was one gymnastic class, one session I took when I was 6 in France. I had hopes of taking dance lessons afterwards - but then my family moved to Canada and my parents could not afford to enroll my brother and I in any extra-curricular activities. I’ve been wanting to go for a really long time but did not have the courage to. I’ve never really seriously articulated it, only in jest, nor have I pursued it. I found out Anne Marie was going and she invited me to tag along with her - giving me enough incentive to actually follow through.

Continue reading ‘Firsts’

underneath the rubble

I can’t fathom the devastation that has befallen Haiti - only in far away images and feelings in the pit of my stomach. As soon as I heard on Tuesday evening, my first thoughts were “Shit! Of all countries”, given its history, socio-economic and political climate. I am susceptible to nightmares and my last two nights were related to the aftermath of the earthquake…but in different locations if that makes sense - spurning thoughts about other human calamities in countries like the Democratic Republic of Congo and Burma. And on.

My friend Beth passed on this Haitian saying  “mountains beyond mountains”  or “beyond the mountains, more mountains”, which means that once you’ve climbed one mountain, there’s still another one in the distance.

I’d like to have a more hopeful outlook, but is that naive?

passed down histories

For quite awhile now I’ve been thinking a lot about family histories and the immigration experience and how disjointed different generations can become. A lot can be lost. Language, stories, practices and traditions. Beliefs. I’ve always been jealous of friends and acquaintances who are able to recite their family history and who have a good sense of where they come from and who know their ‘family traditions’. One thing in particular that sticks in my mind, and also my belly and taste buds no less, is family recipes.

In the last while I’ve been mindful of the fact that a lot of recipes and foods I’ve grown up eating at family gatherings are at risk of being lost after my parents & aunties & uncles’ generation dies off. In my father’s family none of my cousins can really cook, and definitely not Vietnamese foods. Only one of my cousins in my father’s side of the family, out of 20 or so, can. Morbid as I am, I’ve been wondering, after our parents die, who will be making the banh xeo, the thin yellow pancakes filled with bean sprouts, shrimp and pork? The sup cua maw, the crab and fish egg soup? The goi, ’slaw’ salad of pickled carrrots, onions, daikon, shrimp and slivers of pork ear?*

I’ve made a vow to learn many of the dishes I’ve been eating for years and years in hopes I can become a guardian, a custodian of family recipes.

Continue reading ‘passed down histories’

Community

A couple evenings ago on my way home, I met a friendly elderly man. It was very cold and I was sick of being stagnant and waiting for the Parliament bus so I decided to walk towards Castle Frank station, at the very least moving to stay warm. It was just getting to be dark, and as I was crossing the street, a man, perhaps in his 70s dressed in a toque and carrying a rucksack on his back, looking like he was planning to travel far, approached me comfortably and asked if I was walking east, and if so we could keep each other company - walking with someone always speeds up the passing of time when it is cold - which always seems painfully slow when you’re on your own. I told him that I was actually walking towards the TTC station but would be happy to walk with him even for the short little while.

He asked me where I was from. I told him where my parents were from and where I was born. Since he had asked me, I asked him too where he was from.

“Nowhere,” he said with much indignantly, “I do not have a country… as the Americans have destroyed my homeland. Yugoslavia does not exist…”

And so we talked about American intervention and invasions, commiserating over world politics for perhaps 5 or ten minutes. I am not sure. It was just a short connection, one that felt so normal and natural. One that should happen more on cold blistery evenings as well as sunny warm ones. Ones I get to engage in regularly working outdoors in the neighbourhoods that I work in.

Continue reading ‘Community’

Behind a rose berry bush

I feel so behind the Internet. I can’t keep up. Honestly, I am not sure if I want to at times but I am backloaded with stories(and photos) I’ve been wanting to share. Not to mention ideas and questions I’d like to work out in the written form on a public forum. It used to be effortless, to blog and interact, yet it’s been awhile since I’ve been regularly interactive.

waters

So many projects to finish. So many more to start.

It is official. Fall came last(last) weekend for me. I came to that conclusion at the end of the social justice retreat I had managed to attend (at the sort of) last minute with a group of youth and adults that work in the same neighbourhood that I do. Amazingly this retreat was held at a camp in Algonquin Park so I got to canoe, kayak, swim, laze about on a dock and sit around a fire for four days while also attending meetings, workshops and panel discussions. Moreover, I got to meet and listen to many interesting people.

obstacle track

Coddled in the basking glory of the Muskoka wilderness, I got to bond with people I had only merely known as acquaintances or even as an elusive name on an e-mail I’d been copied on in passing. Moreover I got to mull over a few things I’ve had on my mind.  I had time to think without the usual distractions. And it was that much more fantastic being surrounded by fresh air, pine trees of all sizes, rocks (woohoo Canadian Shield!), freshwater, wild animals and stars. The retreat took place at a summer camp that normally serves 300 youths and kids from July to August as it is filled with kitschy camp memorabilia, themed inscriptions on colourful wooden signage (i.e. “The Hedonistic Girls of 1998”) adorn the walls of the Main Lodge, listing names of campers and counselors past, but also informally paying homage to the popular culture of the times (one of my favourite signs from 1991 was shaped like a cassette tape, just before CDs became the norm). Camp Arowhon has been around since the 1930s.

Continue reading ‘Behind a rose berry bush’

Making making salads fun!

The children visited the farmers’ market today. They got to ask the farmers questions, as well as buy a few items to make a salad.

A variety of greens and mushrooms from the farmers’ market, an assortment of herbs picked from the garden, freshly grated parmesean cheese, and black locust flower blossoms foraged from Riverdale park: Delicious!

Lazy day at the farm

Driving up to Sunderland

Driving up to the farm

I had a most relaxing and wonderful time in awhile, having the opportunity to get away for a night to a mutual friend’s farm.  Not to mention fun! After work on Saturday,  Steven and I drove (in Liz’s car) to Tony’s farm Wheelbarrow Farm. Located in Sunderland, just north of Uxbridge, settled in the rolling and gently slopping hills of Ontario’s Greenbelt. Just amazingly fertile and beautiful country. I had been there last year, the first year that Tony was farming, but in July when everything was in bloom and the place was just bursting with greens, leaves, peas, root vegetables and flowers.

People meandering in around the hoop house

People meandering in around the hoop house

Not so much the case in May, but you could see how everything was just about to go in full harvest mode. I was really happy to walk around the premises and see what Tony has in store for this year’s harvest, especially since we got a Community Shared Agriculture (CSA) this year for the first time ever. From June to October I will be getting a  mixed ‘basket’ of organic vegetables and other goodies from what I have gleamed.

Tony’s farm is exemplary of a ‘mixed-farm’, and perhaps the closest thing I have seen that comes close to my grade 6 project in which I had to map out my dream farm (It was extensive and elaborate. I will have to find it so I can scan and post it in the future). On ten acres Tony, with the help of his interns, brother Chris and father Ken, is growing a wide array and variety of greens, root vegetables, squashes, tomatoes, peppers, peas, beans, corn(!), garlic, leeks, raspberries, strawberries, garlic, kiwi berries(!) and other things I can’t remember. Moreover, he’s also just recently started cultivating a fruit orchard (apples and peaches?!), nut orchard (”ready for 2012!”) and other endeavours that will certainly pay off in the future, hopefully.

Not to mention, Tony is raising heritage Berkshire pigs and silkie chickens.

Tony had invited a bunch of us to stay over for the weekend, a good mix of city and farmer folk. Some of us helped with some weeding and extending the pig pen. We fed the pigs and toured the premises marveling over the land. I spent some time trying to catch the silkie chickens and holding them. A bunch of us made dinner (salad from the farm, jerk chicken made by Steven, Guinness-coke marinated ribs made by Andrew, pickled eggs from Adrian, delicious vegan stir fry rice noodle dish made by Long, veggie burgers, grilled asparagus and roast sweet potatoes) and we ate, drinking laughing and conversing by the fire until past 1 am.

Liz and I managed to make ’sbananas’ as Tony calls them (chocolate stuffed
bananas made by slitting the fruit and peel) late at night and we cautiously ate the steaming fruit full of velvety melted chocolate (we BBQ-ed them) with our bare hands (except for Liz who somehow got a hold of a spoon).

The next day, after a breakfast of raspberry chocolate pancakes and a LOT of coffee, and cleaning, we went to visit the Alpacas next door.

Despite being sneezed and snotted on by one back in November at the Royal Agricultural Fair, I had no reservation getting close to them. They were so goofy looking with their poofy hair-dos and ‘leg warmers’. There are no photos, but they looked funny as they simultaneously looked up at us curiously, their long necks stretched out and floppy fuzzy hair cuts.

One of them was particularly friendly. And only gently nibbled on our hands when we fed him/her grass and petted its head.

We stopped for fried pickles on our way home, as per tradition.

After a short jaunt in Uxbridge, we decided to stop in to Richters before driving back to Toronto, basically a gardener’s wet dream with its massive greenhouse and variety of plants, and despite being crammed in the car with people and stuff, Liz and I got fig plants, and Kristin got a passion flower. The drive back was also fantastic and I felt particularly privileged to witness some of best agricultural land in the world. It just blows my mind, what can be grown not far from the city, but mostly also, that most people in Toronto or those living in urban centres do not get to see where or how food grows…

It was hard to go back to the city.

Two Sundays ago - Dig In continued

I haven’t had a chance to write about two Sundays ago, even though I keep meaning to. It was a jammed packed 12 hours!

Dave, fellow Dig In-er, picked me up at the Peterborough bus station and together we drove to Douro-Dummer, where this tri-country youth food sovereignty conference was taking place. The conference was held at this lovely cottage country inn on the water. Delegates from Canada, Jamaica and Nicaragua were coming together for a week to work on developing a collaborative policy paper, with both a global north and south perspective, to present to their respective governments on how to tackle food security issues in their countries and communities.

This ambitious project put on by Jamaica Self-Help and Horizons of Friendship is exciting, and we were lucky to be invited to do the opening workshop. As someone who is just slowly getting into public speaking and presenting, and who gets terribly, terribly nervous speaking in front of people, especially adults, I had a lot of fun. It definitely helped that Dave was my partner in crime. Our workshop, was an extension of the previous Dig In workshop we put on back in November as well as a nod to the Stomach This youth conference I helped Meal Exchange with back in March. Overall, we seemed to get a really good reception and it was interesting to hear the differing view points from the Jamaican and Nicaraguan in contrast to the Canadian delegates with regards to their visions of what a food sovereign society and community looks like from a local and global perspective. The Jamaican delegates for example had a vision of food sovereignty that included more involvement from the government.

Getting there was just as fun, as I have never heard of Douro-Dummer and have never seen that part of the province, saw my first wild turkey which we almost ran over (the turkey was walking so slow and seemed so unfazed that I think we could have just caught it with our bare hands and little trickery), passed  and celebrated the scary 30, 000 mile/kilometre audometre in Dave’s  car(nothing happened), “hey, look a unicorn!”, ate pistachio nuts of which many fell into the crooks and crannies of the old vehicle for Dave to find later when he goes on his road trip up North, and Dave is just good company all around.

I await the outcome of the conference and project. Will anything concrete come out of it?