Women Farmers Making Waves on the Western Sichuan Plain

Towards the end of 2021, while still working for an internet company in Shanghai, I came across a recruitment notice from Foodthink for their Ecological Agriculture Internship Programme. It was as though something had struck a chord within me.

Once my application was accepted, I selected Yuanjian Farm in Meishan, Sichuan, as my destination. As bad luck would have it, Shanghai went into lockdown just before I was due to leave. Still, there was something I felt I absolutely had to do, and the two months ahead did not seem so hard to bear.

By the end of September last year, just as I was preparing to travel from Chengdu to Meishan, the area was locked down once again due to the pandemic. Fortunately, Chen Ying from Yuanjian Farm helped me get in touch with the Hu Xuemei Ecological Farm in Pidu District, and so my first farm experience began.

I. I. Work-Exchange Stay at Xuemei Farm

Sister Xue’s family currently looks after around an acre of land, managed entirely by the couple, making it a family farm in the truest sense of the word.

The farm is surrounded by excellent natural scenery. Just over a hundred metres behind the house lies a swift-flowing river. Known as the Baitiao, it serves as one of the primary drinking water sources for Chengdu. Its banks are lined with riparian woodlands and wetlands, and a winding ecological greenway follows the water downstream, making it an ideal spot for a cool summer stroll.

Unfortunately, a cold snap hit the moment I arrived, and with no warm layers in my backpack, I had to borrow an oversized floral quilted jacket from Sister Xue. Clad in this makeshift “battle suit”, I blended in perfectly—provided I kept my mouth shut, nobody would guess I was from out of town.

Worried that I, being from the north, might struggle to adjust to the local diet, Xuemei handed over the task of preparing the family’s three daily meals to me. Only after finishing my daily kitchen duties would I head out to the fields to help with the farm work.

The highlight of the week was Wednesdays and Sundays, our packing days. Xuemei and I would head out at first light with our baskets to harvest the vegetables, then spend the afternoon packing and dispatching the orders. Each box contained four or five different types of produce.

Most orders come from customers in Chengdu, so the delivery distance is short. Parcels dispatched in the afternoon would arrive by the following morning. This meant we could rely entirely on cardboard boxes and paper bags, avoiding plastic and excess packaging altogether. Some leafy greens didn’t even need a paper bag; we’d simply nestle them tightly alongside the other vegetables to fill the box, which prevented them from shifting or getting bruised in transit. I was genuinely impressed by these packing techniques.

In her early forties, Xuemei is a remarkably capable woman. She earns respect not only for her expertise in organic cultivation and farm management, but also for her commitments beyond the daily toil. Outside her regular work on the land, she actively engages in community events focused on environmental conservation and the sharing of composting techniques.

My stay coincided with a composting project at the farm: we blended oil cake and rice bran with water in a 10:3 ratio, turning the pile once each morning. With Chengdu’s ambient temperature around 17°C, the core heat of the pile had already climbed to 50°C by the third day. When I went to turn it on the fourth morning, I was struck to find a layer of mycelium growing across the surface. It was truly fascinating. Within a little while, the nutrients unlocked by these microorganisms would be ready to return to the soil.

II. Autumn and Winter at Yujian Farm

Once our visit was confirmed for mid-October, I bid farewell to Sister Xuemei and made my way to Yu Jian Farm in Meishan. After spending two months truly immersed in life here, my understanding of the farm deepened considerably.

When I first arrived, the area was in the thick of its autumn sowing season. My first task was to clear a patch of grassland alongside the farm’s permanent hand, Wang Shi (following local custom, male workers are respectfully addressed by appending ‘Shi’ to their surname).

That patch was overrun with nutgrass and water hyacinth (locally dubbed ‘revolution grass’), both notoriously difficult to eradicate due to their tenacious root systems. Nutgrass roots resemble jujube pits, covered in fine rootlets and often embedded in hard clods of earth; unless you crack the soil apart, it’s nearly impossible to pick every single root. Water hyacinth roots are easy to spot, but the spade easily shears them during tilling. Left behind in the soil, these fragmented pieces act much like scattered seed, quickly sprouting and taking hold once more.

Wang Shi and I spent two or three days just to bring this plot of less than half a mu to a tillable state. Auntie Chen Ying then tried sowing green manure, such as clover, into the patch. The green manure did indeed sprout, but the nutgrass and water hyacinth returned with equal vigour, suggesting that the old roots had never been fully eradicated.

The second bout of land clearing focused on the fallow patches between the mulberry and cherry tree rows. The ground was overrun with water hyacinth; for every metre or two we turned over, the unearthed roots would pile up into a small mound. Master Wang carried the roots away basket by basket on his carrying pole, saving them for compost. Once the soil was prepared, we sowed broad beans, peas, barley and rye, and draped netting over the plot to keep birds from taking the seeds.

Our third round of root clearing took place in the vineyard. Late autumn and early winter mark the time for top-dressing fruit trees. We first cut back the weeds in the rows and furrows, cleared out the water hyacinth roots, and then used hoes to dig half-metre-deep trenches on either side of the grapevines. We filled the trenches with compost, covered them over, and watered the beds using water drawn from the duck pond. This enriched the soil and, as a convenient bonus, provided the ducks with a fresh pond.

Before the winter cold set in, we hoed over the entire strawberry patch, trimming away the old leaves from each plant while we were at it. We watered the beds thoroughly and waited until the soil was firm enough to walk on. Auntie Chen Ying and I then laid dual-colour mulch film over each strawberry row, cutting small slits to pull the seedlings through.

I have always been uneasy about the heavy reliance on plastic film in farming. As we were laying the ground mulch and erecting the plastic tunnels for the strawberries, I asked whether there might be a substitute. I had heard that straw could also be used to keep the plants warm.

Aunt Chen Ying explained that she had tried using straw, but pests would emerge from it and feed on the fruit. Plastic film, by contrast, offers numerous benefits: it keeps pests at bay, retains soil warmth and moisture, and its smooth surface promotes drainage. This means the berries resting against it won’t rot from excess dampness. She had considered reusing the sheeting from the previous year, but the slits cut into it no longer aligned with this year’s planting positions, so it was no good.

I suppose that if plastic film proves unavoidable on my own farm down the line, I will certainly have to find ways to maximise its reuse.

III. The Path to Self-Sufficiency Around the Table

What initially drew me to Yujian Farm, besides its ‘Baicaoyuan’ (Hundred-Plant Garden) name, was Aunt Chen Ying’s exacting standards for food provenance and her ambitious vision to achieve complete self-sufficiency.

Apart from the occasional flour and sweet potatoes (from Liangliang Farm in Jintang County) and apples (from fellow farmer Li Lijun in Shandong) sourced from other farming friends, almost everything on the farm’s table consists of homegrown grains and vegetables. Even everyday condiments and snacks are made from scratch. Having experienced it all firsthand, I admire her even more than before.

In the farm’s front courtyard, five or six large ceramic vats hold various ferments curing in the sun: fermented black beans, sweet bean paste, and wheat paste. They require constant checking and turning to keep the moisture level just right—neither too dry nor too damp. This stirring is far from light work. On one occasion, I helped turn three of the vats, a task that occupied my entire morning. Before any paste is transferred to a clean vat, the vessel must first be sanitised with high-proof baijiu to prevent unwanted microbial contamination. Scooping the thick paste from the wide vat into a narrow-mouthed jar demands even greater patience. I had to hold my breath, keep my arm perfectly steady, and take several deep breaths to quiet my restlessness, feeling as though the careful process had slowly worn away every trace of my impatience.

At Yujian Farm, any surplus fruit and vegetables are sun-dried for the larder. Leafy greens are an obvious choice, but yardlong beans and cauliflower are also blanched before being laid out to dry for storage. Once these dried vegetables are rehydrated and eventually make their way back to the dinner table, they offer a distinctly different texture and flavour.

Fruit, however, cannot rely on sun-drying alone. The farm invested in a compact food dehydrator to preserve the seasonal gluts: surplus spring strawberries, summer peaches, and late-autumn kiwifruit are all sliced and dried, then kept as everyday snacks. This year, I was put in charge of peeling the kiwifruit. Rainy days, when fieldwork is impossible, proved ideal for sitting under the courtyard canopy and getting through the peeling.

Uncle Zhou is primarily in charge of cooking at the farm. He often asks me, “Xiao Li, do you ever feel like we don’t eat enough meat?”

I don’t think it’s that little. Most of the poultry we eat is raised right here on the farm, and Uncle Zhou occasionally buys locally farmed freshwater fish and pork ribs for cooking. This frequency aligns perfectly with the ‘eat less meat, but eat better meat’ approach to dining.

Not to mention, whenever Uncle Zhou has a free moment, he’ll make tofu pudding and say, “Doesn’t it taste different from what you get elsewhere? This is made from heirloom soybeans we grow ourselves!”

I find myself constantly wondering what drives people to uphold such exacting standards when it comes to food quality. Naturally, health and well-being play a part: Aunt Chen Ying and Uncle Zhou are roughly the same age as my parents, both in their fifties. With their household finances secure, they now have the time and inclination to focus on a higher quality of life.

But I believe it is the farm’s dedication to preserving traditional wisdom, coupled with its steady, grounded rhythm, that truly makes it possible to sustain such a pure, organic way of life.

IV. Epilogue

In 2022, a year when the wider world was shaken by countless bewildering events, the suffering I witnessed from afar plunged me into a state of political depression. I was unsure how to find my place in these times, but these two farming internships gave me the courage to imagine new possibilities.

I have now completed my internship and returned to my hometown in Hebei, to an ordinary village on the North China Plain. Every family in the village practices conventional farming, and my parents run a five-mu orchard there.

Initially, I didn’t expect my family to understand my decision to set up an organic farm. Yet my time on these two family-run farms in Sichuan revealed that familial support need not depend on shared convictions; parents often stand by their children simply out of care and affection. If the path I’ve chosen can stand the test of time, I trust our differing perspectives will gradually fade.

I have now started looking for land for the farm, likely not too far from home.

About the Ecological Farm Internship Programme

In November 2021, Foodthink launched its agricultural internship programme. Eighteen interns travelled to eleven farms across eight provinces and municipalities, undertaking placements lasting between two months and one year.

We hope ecological farms will distil their valuable experience in farm management, production techniques, and sales and promotion, to serve as a reference for young people considering a return to rural areas to work in ecological agriculture. At the same time, interns with diverse backgrounds can contribute their expertise, bring fresh energy to the farms, and lower the learning and trial-and-error costs for their own future rural ventures.

In 2023, applications for the second cohort of Foodthink’s programme are now open. Click here or scan the QR code on the poster below for application details.

On 9 February, we will also host a special public sharing session, inviting interns and mentors from the first cohort to reflect on their experiences. The session will be broadcast live via Tencent Meeting and on Foodthink’s WeChat Video Account. Should you have any questions about the internship programme, feel free to ask. Please keep an eye on upcoming Foodthink updates for further details.

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

Editor: Zeen