When Lonely and Weary, I Remember: The Land Is at My Back

I. I. Head to the Farm!

On the journey back to Kunming from Chengdu, I drove through a succession of long tunnels. My mobile signal flickered in and out, mirroring the ebb and flow of my mood. One moment I was still at the Chengdu Life Market selling luffa for Liangliang Farm; the next, I was already on my way back to the city, far removed from the land.

I studied film anthropology. In southwest China, I came to know many ethnic groups and filmed a wide variety of ways of life and production. Although my work regularly brought me into contact with villagers and the land itself, I often found myself feeling out of my depth.

To the outside world, I might appear to understand the countryside, but my grasp of it remains vague. I would spot a plant and want to identify it, yet lack the confidence, only turning to a phone app to confirm what it was. Even the footage I shot always felt like it was missing something.

I have always been drawn to the rural-themed films of Abbas Kiarostami, Shinobu Okawara, and Agnès Varda, with Okawara being a particular favourite. In his memoir, *The Harvesting of Film*, he recounts how, to capture a more authentic reality for his documentary, he cultivated the land and joined the villagers in their resistance. It took over a decade of such steadfast commitment before the film was finally completed.

If we look at films from the past decade, for instance: *The Biggest Little Farm*, which has inspired so many to start their own farms, is itself a documentary. *Little Forest*, which conveys a profound philosophy of life through simple, everyday food, was likewise created by the original manga’s author after years spent living in the Japanese countryside.

When I came across Foodthink’s call for ecological farming interns last year, the prospect of working the land as a “local” aligned so perfectly with my own aspirations that I applied without a moment’s hesitation.

II. The Family Farm: Dividing the Work

Liangliang Farm sits on the north-eastern fringe of the Chengdu Plain, in a small village called Niujiao in Jintang County. The soil is predominantly yellow clay, and the fields are mainly given over to rice, maize, sweet potatoes, rapeseed and vegetables.

Most people ride small three-wheelers every day, passing through fields of maize on a roughly ten-minute journey into town for school, to buy necessities, or to play cards. A market takes place on even-numbered days of the month, offering a wide range of items not usually available locally.

It was in one of these three-wheelers that I travelled back, with the farm’s owner, Tang Liang, carving out time from his busy fieldwork to give me a lift.

As soon as we arrived at the farm, Tang Liang began introducing the family. The extended family behind Liangliang Farm now consists of eleven members. With the exception of the three youngest children, everyone plays a vital role.

Tang Liang oversees external communications and overall operations. His father manages frontline work in the fields, while his mother assists him and handles the household logistics, chiefly preparing the three daily meals. His younger brother, Tang Jin, coordinates production, with his wife Xiaoqiao acting as his assistant and helping to dispatch the farm’s produce. Tang Liang’s partner, Lizhi, runs the educational programmes and is responsible for beautifying and decorating the grounds. The older uncles, now enjoying retirement, take time to relax whilst occasionally lending a hand.

What drew him to farming? Tang Liang reflects on his childhood. Like so many other rural parents, his own left home to work elsewhere for long stretches. He and his younger brother were left behind, constantly longing for the days when the family would be reunited.

After graduating from university, Tang Liang realised that running a farm could bring his family together. Following a two-year internship at a farm in Beijing, he took his meagre savings of 30,000 yuan, returned to his hometown without hesitation, and set out to establish a family farm.

III. Ten Years at Liangliang Farm

It has been roughly ten years since the farm was first established. The extended family were not together from the outset; rather, under Tang Liang’s influence, they returned home one by one.

His two uncles, who had both remained unmarried due to health issues, were the first in the family to support him. They began by planting a variety of crops in small trial plots on a few acres of their own land.

By the second year, the father, who had been working elsewhere, joined the effort. The younger brother and his wife, who had been working in Guangdong, also came to the farm, and it began to turn a profit.

In the third year, the mother closed her mahjong parlour in town. The family, who had rarely seen one another, gradually reunited at the new farm, settling into a clear division of labour and each contributing their share.

A few years later, Tang Liang found love in Lizi, who was exploring Waldorf education. Her arrival breathed new life into the farm. From beautifying the grounds to parent-and-child education, Liangliang Farm took on a richer sense of purpose.

In a China undergoing rapid transformation, Liangliang Family Farm appears to have opened up the possibility of an entirely new way of life. Though friction is inevitable and new challenges must be continually addressed, a palpable sense of wellbeing permeates the household.

Throughout the farm’s decade-long journey, each year has brought fresh developments. Tang Liang has constructed a new home, the uncles have trialled new crops, Lizi has refreshed the landscaping, Tang Jin has acquired a tractor and built a new cold store, and the aunts and uncles have embarked on new studies…

This modest family farm sustains an extended household of eleven. Over time, it has gradually encompassed the schooling of the children, the care of the elders, and further education for the younger generation, while also beginning to foster a greater sense of cohesion within the surrounding village. Every day at the farm, a fresh vitality radiates from both the land and its people.

IV. Those Who Left, What Remains

During my time at the farm, the people I spent the most time with each day were Xiao Qiao and Li Zi.

I weeded alongside Xiao Qiao almost every day. Summers in Chengdu are sweltering; the midday sun is fierce enough to melt you, so we could only work in the early mornings and late evenings. Slack off for a single day, and you might find the weeds running rampant by tomorrow.

With the heavy summer rains, the family’s labour alone wasn’t enough, so we had to bring in extra hands from the village on a temporary basis. If we didn’t, the weeds would outpace the crops and compromise the harvest.

Over the course of a month, we weeded the ginger beds three times. It is a repetitive task that demands steady diligence, yet it remains a vital part of ecological farming. I finally understand why Little Forest: Summer and Autumn is filled with scenes of weeding. But thankfully, for those who earn their living from the land, no sweat shed for the soil is ever wasted.

It’s been days since I left the farm, and I keep seeing their posts on WeChat Moments, sharing slices of their lovely lives. Suddenly, it all feels worlds away from me, and I wonder whether they’ll still often think of me, this “family member” of theirs. Then, one morning, Lizhi messaged me: “Xiaofang, Youyou said, ‘Auntie Xiaofang hasn’t come back yet.’” He still remembers me.

Unlike the other interns, I only spent less than a month there, leaving me with a lingering sense of guilt and regret. That changed one day when I passed a farmyard and, amidst a mix of crops, immediately spotted the familiar leaves of ginger. Unsure, I stepped closer to ask. The scent was unmistakably the one I knew. I went on to share it with friends with quiet confidence, realising these plants were no longer strangers to me.

I suppose these memories will always remain with me, firmly lodged in my mind and never to be erased.

V. V. A Friend to the Farmer

After graduating and starting work, I had hardly any savings. Amid the pandemic, I was eager to do so much yet constantly weighed down by the need to ‘make money’. I had to bow to the necessities of making a living, so for now, I’ll simply be a friend to the farmers.

Returning to Yunnan, I connected with new farmers here and took my first step toward a ‘healthy lifestyle’. I hadn’t anticipated it would be anything but straightforward, however. The very first organic cauliflower I bought had two quite large worms crawling over it by the next day, which gave me quite a start.

Though I had already fought my share of battles with all manner of little bugs back at the farm, encountering them in an entirely different setting meant I had to prepare myself mentally all over again and unlearn my old assumptions.

Those who look beyond the surface of their food will, I suspect, find their views on producers shifting just as mine did. When you take the time to understand their worldview, you naturally approach them with understanding and respect. It is precisely this dynamic that raises the social standing and income of producers, ensuring that more young people will inevitably be drawn to the work.

Although we do not work on the front line of production, that does not mean we are entirely disconnected from it. In truth, we contribute indirectly to the current state of agriculture. Take live-streamed sales on certain platforms, for example: three chickens for just ¥59.9, and buyers flock to the deals. Meanwhile, farmers practising ecological agriculture have never enjoyed anywhere near the same level of fervour.

Since arriving at Liangliang Farm, I have grown ever more convinced that agriculture is no simple matter. If starting your own farm isn’t on the cards just yet, why not take Lizhi’s advice and begin by befriending the farmers?

Whenever I walk down a bustling high street, feeling lonely and weary, I remind myself: I have the land at my back.

About the Ecological Farm Internship Programme

Foodthink launched the ‘Ecological Agriculture Internship Programme’ in November 2021 as a further initiative to empower the sector. After several rounds of dialogue and selection, we successfully matched 18 interns with 11 farms across eight provinces and municipalities, for placements lasting between two months and a year.

We hope that ecological farms will document and share their valuable experience in farm management, production techniques, and marketing, creating a reference for young people hoping to return to rural areas and pursue ecological agriculture. Meanwhile, interns from diverse backgrounds can contribute their respective skills, bring fresh energy to the farms, and reduce the learning curve and costs of trial and error for their own future rural ventures.

In 2023, Foodthink will launch the second cohort of the Ecological Agriculture Internship Programme. Stay tuned for more details.

Unless otherwise stated, all images in this article are by the author.

Editor: Zeen