Trailblazing Women Farmers of the Western Sichuan Plains

At the end of 2021, while still working for an internet company in Shanghai, I came across a recruitment notice for Foodthink’s ‘Ecological Agriculture Intern Programme’, and something about it really resonated with me.

Once my application was accepted, I chose ‘Meeting Farm’ in Meishan, Sichuan, as my destination. As luck would have it, the Shanghai lockdown hit just before I was due to leave. However, with something I felt I simply had to do waiting for me, the two months weren’t too difficult to bear.

At the end of September last year, just as I was about to travel from Chengdu to Meishan, the local area went into lockdown again due to the pandemic. Fortunately, Auntie Chen Ying from Meeting Farm put me in touch with Hu Xuemei’s ecological farm in the Pidu District, which is how my first farm experience came about.

I. I. Work Exchange at Xuemei Farm

Sister Xuemei’s place currently covers six mu, managed by her and her husband; it is a family farm in every sense of the word.

The natural surroundings of the farm are wonderful; just over a hundred metres behind the house flows a swift, wide river. This is the Baitiao River, one of the drinking water sources for downtown Chengdu. The riverbanks are lined with conservation forests and wetlands, and an ecological greenway winds its way downstream—a perfect spot for a cooling stroll in the summer.

Unfortunately, the temperature dropped just as I arrived, and with no warm clothes in my rucksack, I had to borrow one of Sister Xuemei’s large, floral-patterned jackets. Clad in this ‘battle gear’, as long as I didn’t speak, almost no one could tell I was from out of town.

Worried that I, as a Northerner, might struggle with the local cuisine, Xuemei entrusted me with the task of preparing the family’s three daily meals. It was only after completing my duties as the ‘resident chef’ that I would head out to help in the fields.

The highlight of the week was ‘veg box day’ on Wednesdays and Sundays. Xuemei and I would set out early with our baskets to harvest the produce, then spend the afternoon packing them for delivery, with each box containing four or five different types of vegetables.

Most orders came from customers in Chengdu; since the distance was short, parcels dispatched in the afternoon would arrive by the following morning. Consequently, they used cardboard boxes and paper bags, avoiding plastic and excessive packaging. Some leafy greens weren’t even bagged; they were simply packed tightly alongside other vegetables to fill the box, preventing any movement or bruising. I was truly impressed by these packing techniques.

Just over forty, Xuemei is a remarkably capable woman. What makes her so admirable is not just her expertise in organic farming and farm management; beyond her daily labour, she actively participates in environmental protection initiatives and knowledge-sharing events on composting techniques.

During my stay, I happened to be there while the farm was composting: mixing oil cake and rice bran with water in a 10:3 ratio, turning the pile every morning. The temperature in Chengdu was around 17°C at the time, but by the third day of composting, the internal temperature had risen to 50°C. When I went to turn the pile on the fourth morning, mycelium had already begun to grow on the surface—it was fascinating. After a while, the nutrients converted by these microorganisms could be returned to the soil.

II. Autumn and Winter at Yujian Farm

Once it became possible to travel in mid-October, I bid farewell to Sister Xuemei and headed to Meeting Farm in Meishan. Having spent two full months living there, my understanding of the farm deepened significantly.

My first few days at the farm coincided with the local autumn sowing season. My first task was to work alongside Wang Shi, a long-term farm hand (locally, male workers are addressed as ‘Shi’, meaning master or expert), to clear a patch of grassland.

The plot was overgrown with nutgrass and aquatic peanut, both of which are notoriously difficult to eradicate. Nutgrass roots resemble date stones and are covered in fibrous rootlets, often encased within clods of earth; unless these clods are broken apart, it is nearly impossible to remove every last root. The roots of the aquatic peanut (locally known as ‘revolution grass’) are easier to spot, but they snap easily during tilling. These fragmented pieces left in the soil act like scattered seeds, sprouting and growing once more.

Wang Shi and I spent two or three days clearing a patch of grassland measuring less than half a mu. Aunt Chen Ying tried planting green manure, such as clover, on the plot. While the green manure did eventually sprout, the nutgrass and water peanut grew just as vigorously; it seems the roots had not been entirely cleared.

The second wave of “clearing the land” took place in the open spaces between the ridges of mulberry and cherry trees. This area was largely overtaken by water peanut; for every metre or two of soil we turned over, the weed roots we gathered piled up like a small mountain. Using a carrying pole with baskets, Wang Shi made trip after trip to haul these roots away to be used for compost. Once the land was prepared, we sowed broad beans, peas, barley, and rye, and draped the area with netting to stop the birds from eating the seeds.

The third round of root-clearing was in the vineyard. Late autumn and early winter is the time for top-dressing fruit trees. First, we mowed the weeds from the ridges and furrows, then cleared out the water peanut roots once more, before using a hoe to dig half-metre-deep trenches on either side of the grapevines. We filled these trenches with compost and covered them over, watering them with water from the duck pond. This not only enriched the soil but also provided an opportunity to refresh the water in the duck pond.

Before the winter chill set in, we gave the strawberry patch a thorough weeding and took the opportunity to remove the old leaves from each plant. After watering them well and waiting for the soil to become firm enough to walk on, Aunt Chen Ying and I covered each strawberry ridge with two-tone plastic mulch, then tore small holes in it to expose the strawberry seedlings.

I have always been concerned about the widespread use of plastic sheeting in agriculture. While we were laying mulch and erecting polytunnels for the strawberries, I asked her if there were any alternatives, as I had heard that straw could also be used for insulation.

Aunt Chen Ying told me that she had tried straw, but pests would emerge and eat the berries. Plastic film, however, offers numerous advantages: it wards off insects while retaining heat and moisture in the soil, and its smooth surface ensures efficient drainage, meaning the strawberries won’t rot where they touch the sheeting. She had considered reusing last year’s film, but the slits cut into it didn’t align with the positions of this year’s seedlings, making it impractical.

I told myself that if my own farm also has to rely on plastic sheeting in the future, I must find a way to increase how many times it can be reused.

III. A Journey to Self-Sufficiency Centred on the Table

When I first discovered the farm, I was drawn not only by its name, the ‘Hundred Herb Garden’, but also by Aunt Chen Ying’s exacting standards regarding the provenance of her food and her ambition to achieve total self-sufficiency.

Aside from the occasional purchase of flour and sweet potatoes (from Liangliang Farm in Jintang County) or apples (from Li Lijun, a fellow farmer in Shandong), almost everything on the farm’s table is home-grown. Even the daily condiments and snacks are homemade. Having seen it for myself, my admiration for her has only grown.

In five or six large vats in the farm’s front courtyard, various pastes—such as fermented black beans, sweet bean sauce, and wheat sauce—are left to cure in the sun. They require constant monitoring and stirring to ensure they neither dry out too much nor remain too wet. Stirring is no light task; once, I spent an entire morning helping with three vats. Before the paste is added, the empty vats must be sterilised with high-proof baijiu to prevent contamination. Transferring the paste from the vats into narrow-necked jars is an even greater test of patience. I had to hold my breath and keep my arm steady, taking deep breaths to stave off frustration; I felt my entire temper being worn away.

At Meeting Farm, any surplus fruit and vegetables can be sun-dried. Leafy greens go without saying, but cowpeas and cauliflower can also be boiled first and then dried for preservation. When these dried vegetables are rehydrated and return to the dining table, they possess a completely different texture and flavour.

Fruits, however, cannot be simply sun-dried. The farm has invested in a small dehydrator; leftover strawberries from spring, summer’s surplus peaches, and the final kiwis of autumn are all sliced and dried to serve as daily snacks. This year, during the kiwi-drying process, I was put in charge of the peeling. On rainy days when the fields are off-limits, there is nothing better than sitting under the courtyard awning and peeling away.

Uncle Zhou is the one mainly responsible for the cooking at the farm. He often asks me, “Xiao Li, do you think we don’t eat enough meat?”

I didn’t think it was too little. Most of the poultry we ate was raised on the farm, and Uncle Zhou would occasionally buy local freshwater fish and pork ribs for our meals. This frequency perfectly aligned with the philosophy of “eating less meat, but eating better meat”.

Not to mention, whenever Uncle Zhou had a spare moment, he would make tofu pudding and tell me, “Doesn’t it taste different from the stuff you buy in the shops? These are heirloom soybeans we’ve grown ourselves!”

I often wonder what drives someone to maintain such rigorous standards for the quality of their food. Health and wellbeing are certainly considerations: Aunt Chen Ying and Uncle Zhou are around the same age as my parents, both having reached that reflective milestone of fifty; with a stable household income, they finally have the time and energy to pursue a higher quality of life.

But I suspect that the farm’s preservation of traditional wisdom and its steady, grounded pace of life are the primary reasons they have been able to sustain such a pure, organic way of living.

IV. Epilogue

In 2022, a year marked by countless surreal events in the outside world, I sank into a state of political depression brought on by suffering in far-off places. I wasn’t sure how to find my place in this era, but these two farm internships have given me the courage to imagine new possibilities.

My internship has now ended, and I have returned to my hometown in Hebei, to an ordinary village on the North China Plain. Every household in the village practices conventional farming; my parents also manage an orchard of five mu there.

At first, I didn’t expect my family to understand my decision to start an organic farm. But my experiences with those two family farms in Sichuan taught me that support between family members does not necessarily have to be built on a shared set of beliefs; parents often support their children simply out of love. I believe that if what I am pursuing can stand the test of time, our differences in perspective will gradually dissolve.

Now, I have already started looking for land for my farm, likely not too far from home.

About the Ecological Farm Internship Programme

In November 2021, Foodthink launched an agricultural internship programme, sending 18 interns to 11 farms across eight provinces and cities for placements lasting between two months and one year.

We hope that ecological farms can systematise their valuable experience in farm management, production techniques, and sales and promotion, providing a reference for young people wishing to return to their rural roots to pursue ecological farming. At the same time, interns from diverse backgrounds can contribute their own expertise, bringing new energy to the farms while reducing the learning curve and the risks associated with their own future rural ventures.

Applications are now open for the second phase of Foodthink’s 2023 programme. Click here or scan the QR code on the poster below for more details.

On 9 February, we will also host a special public sharing session, where interns and mentors from the first phase will reflect on their experiences. The session will be held via Tencent Meeting and streamed live on Foodthink’s video channel. We welcome any questions you may have about the internship programme. Please keep an eye on our upcoming posts for further details.

Unless otherwise stated, all photographs in this article were taken by the author.

Edited by Zen