“Steamed from above, soaked from below”: how farmers survive the scorching, rainy summer

People living in Beijing have felt the summer stretch on, with temperature and humidity rising during the mornings and evenings. The weather, like being in a steamer, felt as though they had been transported to the south. Netizens have joked that “Beijing’s climate is becoming like Shanghai’s, and Shenzhen’s like India’s”. In fact, a recent study predicts that by the end of this century, Beijing’s climate will resemble that of today’s Xinxiang in Henan, Shanghai will be comparable to Pakistan, and Shenzhen will be as hot as northern India.

According to statistics from the Beijing Climate Centre, the maximum temperature in Beijing this year reached 38°C. While the peak temperature wasn’t as extreme as last year’s 41.1°C, there were more high-temperature days this year, totalling 18. Furthermore, the last high-temperature day occurred on 22 August, which is later than usual. Coupled with higher daytime and nighttime temperatures, people generally felt that this summer was hotter overall.

Rainfall also increased significantly. According to China Weather Network, between June and 26 August, the observatory in the southern suburbs of Beijing recorded 37 rainy days with total precipitation of 740.9mm—roughly double the average for the same period. Between 7 and 26 August, the observatory recorded 9 rainy days (slightly more than the average of 6.87) and total precipitation of 325.1mm, nearly 4.6 times the usual amount.

With persistent high temperatures and heavy rain, the land was effectively “steamed from above and soaked from below”. It was an ordeal for people, let alone the crops in the fields.

I. This Year Is Different from Last

Liu Gang had experienced something similar last year.

In late July 2023, Typhoon Doksuri brought extreme rainfall to the Beijing-Tianjin-Hebei region, the likes of which had not been seen in 60 years. In his ten years of farming, Liu Gang had never encountered such an extreme rain disaster. He spent his time racing against the elements; as soon as the rain stopped, he and his workers would rush into the seedling greenhouses to save the plants. Still, many were drowned, and almost everything grown in open fields was wiped out.

Liu Gang recalls that while last year’s rain was more intense, it was shorter in duration. Xiaoliushu Farm had received early warnings from the relevant agricultural departments in Shunyi and had made preparations. However, in August this year, although the rainfall wasn’t as extreme as last year, it rained almost every day. “Last year our seedlings survived, but this year they’ve all been soaked,” Liu said.

Having experienced last year’s record-breaking rainfall, Liu Gang learned his lesson and improved his drainage measures. For example, the distance between rows of open-field vegetables was increased to 1.6 metres, and he adopted a high-ridge cultivation model to facilitate mechanical weeding. The seedling greenhouses also used high ridges. In the event of heavy rain, this provided a buffer for the water around the root systems, preventing the roots from being submerged. However, no matter how good the measures, they were no match for the endless rain. With the soil saturated and nowhere for the water to drain, many vegetables still drowned, and both people and tractors became bogged down in the mud, unable to move.

When asked about emergency response measures, affected farmers all said the same thing: drainage, and more drainage. However, the rainfall was simply too great, and with the groundwater saturated, the water had nowhere to go.

Lianxiang Farm in Chengde, Hebei, was also flooded.

Around 19 August, Huludao in Liaoning Province experienced historically rare and persistent heavy rainfall. The volume, intensity, and scope of the rain far exceeded predictions, marking the heaviest rainfall since 1951 and resulting in 10 deaths and 14 people missing. Lianxiang Farm was right in the path of this rain belt and suffered the worst rainfall since the farm was first established. The rainwater formed a churning river of yellow mud, washing away the nearby road. Neither vehicles nor people could get through.

Farm owner Yingying was “surprised” to discover that a well, abandoned for many years, had begun to overflow. Water seeped from the oversaturated soil, flooding the land inside the freshly levelled greenhouses. It took nearly 15 days to drain, consequently delaying the autumn sowing at Lianxiang Farm.

III.“Helpless Against Natural Disaster”

Farmers view this year’s rains in North China as a natural disaster, believing that no matter how good the land is, two consecutive months of rain is catastrophic.

While it is often said that farmers are at the mercy of the weather, the increasing frequency of extreme weather events means that past experience is no longer enough to cope with the disasters brought by climate change. In a normal year, farms in North China might experience small-scale droughts or some pest infestations during the summer; experienced farmers would react by watering heavily at the right time, taking preemptive pest control measures, or implementing remedial actions later on.

“You can only drain the rain; there is no way to stop a natural disaster,” Xiankong, the owner of Kongkong Valley, told Foodthink.

Kongkong Valley is located in Pinggu, Beijing. Due to the rainfall, fruit-bearing vegetables were largely affected, primarily aubergines, chillies, and tomatoes. Because of drainage difficulties, the cabbage, cauliflower, and broccoli planted recently were also drowned.

Although Kongkong Valley has faced torrential rain in previous years, Xiankong believes that two full months of rain in Beijing this year is a climatic anomaly, incomparable to the past. “This year’s weather is the result of overall climate change; farmers are simply powerless in the face of such natural disasters.”

To make matters worse, extreme weather disasters have persisted across the country since June. In late June, the middle and lower reaches of the Yangtze River, as well as Guangxi and Guizhou, experienced prolonged extreme rainfall. At the same time, however, provinces such as Hebei, Henan, Shandong, and Sichuan were suffering from severe drought.

By July, the previously drought-stricken North China was suddenly hit by heavy rain. The anxieties the farmers had felt over the drought were quickly washed away, only for the crops they had worked so hard to save to be drowned. Following the rain, temperatures did not drop as they once did but remained high. Experts predict that climate change will increase the frequency of rapid shifts between drought and flooding, posing a serious threat to food security.

Such weather has significantly reduced the yield of summer fruits and vegetables. And the worst was yet to come. Early August is usually the season for planting autumn vegetables in North China, but because the soil remained wet and muddy, sowing was impossible. “Chinese cabbage and radishes simply wouldn’t take. It took a huge effort and several attempts before they finally sprouted,” said Xiankong.

Many farmers have had to delay their planting by three weeks to a month, meaning autumn vegetables could only be sown in early September, which will naturally affect the winter harvest.

IV. Farmers Lose Money, Consumers Can’t Afford Vegetables

The rise in vegetable prices caused by extreme weather eventually passes through to the consumer. This summer, many vegetable production bases were affected by both drought and flooding. In August, prices rose not only in Beijing but also in Shanghai, Shandong, Sichuan, Hebei, and Henan. The unit prices of staples such as cucumbers, tomatoes, aubergines, and green chillies have left consumers lamenting that they “can’t afford them”.

According to wholesale price data for 28 key vegetables monitored by the Ministry of Agriculture and Rural Affairs, the national daily average price for vegetables rose from 4.27 yuan/kg on 16 June to 6.01 yuan/kg by 15 August, an increase of 40.7%. Between 22 and 28 July, the price reached 4.91 yuan/kg, the highest value for the same period in nearly a decade.

This year’s rain delayed autumn sowing in many parts of North China by about a month, meaning the harvest will also be delayed by a month. In a twelve-month year, missing a month of harvest means losing a month’s income.

Ecological farmers have suffered even greater losses. Compared to conventional farming, ecological farming follows a route of “limited supply, high quality, and premium prices”. The continuous rain not only led to total crop failure for many, but also significantly diminished the flavour and texture of the produce, leading to direct financial losses.

Furthermore, ecological farming increases the cost of managing disasters compared to conventional methods. For instance, the heavy rain led to wild weed growth. Conventional farmers can simply spray herbicide and be done with it—perhaps by increasing the dose—whereas ecological farmers rely more on mechanical or manual weeding. With more weeds, labour and energy costs inevitably rise. Yingying of Lianxiang Farm mentioned that one plot of land had so many weeds that she simply couldn’t keep up with them and eventually had to give up, leaving the weeds to grow rampant.

At Kongkong Valley, the apples rot as soon as it rains. Surrounding conventional orchards apply fungicides to ensure the apples keep growing despite the rain. However, because Kongkong Valley uses ecological methods, they cannot follow conventional practices, and as a result, the apples were lost.

In truth, farmers encounter various problems every year, and as they do, their experience grows. Ecological farmers often employ physical prevention or natural farming methods, and as such, each has developed a “knack” for working with the whims of the weather. They have their own methods for fighting drought and flooding in summer, or dealing with pests and diseases. But the extreme weather of recent years has turned these veterans of ten years’ farming back into complete novices.

When asked about improvement measures to cope with increasingly unpredictable extreme weather, Liu Gang stated that he would connect the drainage of the Xiaoliushu Farm to the unified drainage system built by the government for surrounding farms.

Liu Gang explained that this system had existed for some time, but few farmers used it, to the point where some channels became blocked and were almost abandoned. Farmers in North China are used to a drier climate; for many years, they had no need for this drainage system and paid little attention to the blockages. However, following this summer’s incessant rain, farmers reported the drainage issues to the government. Recently, the government relaid the drainage pipes in public areas. Once the autumn harvest is finished, Liu Gang will be busy with drainage construction within his own farm. He hopes that with upgraded internal and external drainage systems, the farm will be able to weather the storm if such weather occurs again next year.

Xiankong said that the only option is to prepare drainage in advance and choose varieties based on topography—for example, planting water-tolerant vegetables like taro in areas prone to waterlogging, or digging deeper drainage ditches.

“But if a real disaster strikes again, no amount of measures will help.”

References

“How Hot Will China’s Future Be: Beijing Becoming Henan, Shenzhen Becoming India?” https://www.bjnews.com.cn/detail/172138062619114.html

“Expert Analysis of Four Hot Topics on Temperature: Just How Hot Was Beijing This Summer?”

https://baijiahao.baidu.com/s?id=1809313354020679257&wfr=spider&for=pc

“Just How Hot Was Beijing This Summer?”

https://hqtime.huanqiu.com/article/4JJambizGEo

“Vegetable Prices are Rising, What’s Happening?”

http://www.scs.moa.gov.cn/gzdt/202408/t20240826_6461298.htm

Foodthink Author

Carrie

A tropical islander, a hybrid of the North and South.

 

 

 

 

Unless otherwise stated, all images are provided by the interviewees

Editor: Ling Yu