You are welcome to join the Takahashis and spend wonderful working holidays! We provide you with accomodation and meals. Transport can be arranged Hanamaki or Shin-Hanamaki station or Morioka (HMK) airport.
| The Takahashis manage 16 acres of rice paddy fields: sowing seeds in mid April, transplanting seedlings in early May and harvesting in early October. | |
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Shin Takahashi (65) single-handedly* watch over the farm. |
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Mayumi, fluent in English, flys back from Hong Kong in the busiest time
of the year to help. She is involved with a green group in Hong Kong Safe
Alternatives for Food and Environment. |
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Sayuri, who also speaks English, handles household chores. She has a husband and two kids as below. |
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You are welcome to join the Takahashis and spend wonderful working holidays! We provide you with accomodation and meals. Transport can be arranged Hanamaki or Shin-Hanamaki station or Morioka (HMK) airport. |
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| My rice harvesting
experience by Mayumi Takahashi |
| My parents own rice field in the northern part of Japan.
Rice farmers have two intensely busy seasons each year, one is the planting
season in spring and the other is the harvest in autumn. The days start at 5:00 a.m. when cable radio hooked to a community telephone network, automatically begins to broadcast. My parents have cultivated these fields since the time of my grand parents (and ancestotrs), and they continued to do so even after my sister and I got married and left home. Until the mid 60's (when I was a child), these two main events were a community effort: a group of villagers got together and planted and harvested manually. Schools were closed so that kids could help, too. Life wasn't easy. During winter, when nothing grew, all the young men (our fathers) left home to work on construction sites. Then the Japanese economy took off. Automation took over in the villages. Farmers are granted loans from the powerful agricultural Co-operatives and bought tractors, planters, combine-harvesters, dryers and rice polishers. Workload was reduced to the level where a mere couple could handle the whole procedure. Children grow up and sought jobs in the city. Most of my classmates did not take up farming. Some of them took salaried jobs with the Agricultural Co-operative. Now our parents are older. Some fathers are no longer there and the widows and children have decided to assign their farms to younger and more enthusiastic professional farmers (there are only a few!). In recent years my father fell ill in two consecutive autumns thus raising the critical issue of who would take over. As I mentioned earlier, the harvest is a very important event for farmers. I decided to help. I took two weeks off work. I had never before touched this heavy-duty combine-harvester: a machine designed to handle multi-tasks such as reaping, threshing and shredding of rice straw simultaneously (it costs as much as a lavish sports car!). I had to be very careful not to ruin this family asset or my limbs! One day in the field next to ours, I saw a man in his 40s. My mother
told me that he managed 12.5 acres by himself, only part of which is his
own land and the rest he had been contracted to take care of. This figure
is about the maximum one farmer can handle and he can only harvest on
clear days. So what's going to happen to remaining fields when old couples
can't farm anymore? what's going to happen to our nation? Every year,
farmland of an area equivalent to Belgium disappears. Rice fields are
especially excellent for the maintenance of the ecosystem. If you converted
the ability of these fields to retain water into dollar term, i.e. if
you utilised civil engineering feats to achieve the same effect, the cost
would be astronomical. |
| My Rice Planting Experience by Mayumi Takahashi |
| It had been thirty years since
I planted rice. I was a first-grader (age 6) or thereabouts. I remember
the touch of mud, sucking gently on my bare feet. In my childhood, rice planting was such labour-intensive work that a few dozens of people got together to get the job done. Then the nursery for the young rice seedlings was outdoors, unlike today's greenhouse. In a nursing paddy, water was deep. We wore long boots reaching our thighs. We bound a bunch of rice seedlings with straw to fit in a basket. The basket was then tied to planters' back. In my memory my grandpa did this job because it was too grueling for women. Planting started mid-June, one month later than today. We knew the time as the white azalea in the yard started to bloom. It was warm enough for me to take off clothes on the way back from school. I tied my clothes to my school bag. I called a young woman who was in the middle of planting with the others. The shade of her scarf made her look like my mother. I blushed to find out she was another person. I was naked and people were laughing. It was important to plant straight. Sometimes typhoon obstructed the view. My grandpa put red flags on the other side of the paddy but planting lines were far from straight. Some couldn't stand such a hard work. I am utterly surprised to know that some of my relatives ran away from their marriage to escape farm work. In the early 1970s, a planting machine with two planting slots appeared in the village. Kosaku, who helped planting this year told me his grandmother said she was so happy to live long enough to see such a miracle. At the time, a man had to walk with the machine. Then it evolved into vehicle type with 4, 6, 8 slots. Everyone was jockeying to borrow money to buy th latest model. Well, when you see the machine, you will understand it is worth the fuss. It's so clever. At first sight, in operation, it looks like a hedgehog with a green gown. The gown is the seedlings sliding down to planting slot that resembles four-legged crabs. These crabs rotate and pick up and plant seedlings. It can plant a square paddy without missing a single patch. Our paddies are irregular in shape and relatively small. It took us 5 days to get the job done. If they were bigger--of 2.45 acre each--then probably we could have been done it in a day. (They are now reshaping the paddies in our neighbourhood to accommodate the planting machine.) Fortunately, molasses-based organic liquid fertiliser has replaced the chemicals to be sprayed at the same time as planting. Then governor of Shiga prefecture invented such a method as he was concerned about eutrophications of Lake Shiga, the largest lake in Japan. Molasses promotes good micro organisms (and is safer for the farmer). Previously, herbicide was sprayed twice. Now, only once and water is not allowed to flow into streams. A man who helped us lamented, "As I let the water flow into a stream after spraying, I saw many fishes die." Herbicide went to the sea and returned to the village thickened in fishes. Farmers do not enjoy longevity any more; our village is filled with widows. Well, so what do assistants have to do? Wash nursing boxes, pass the seedlings on the tray to the operator, pass the liquid fertiliser (that weighs 20 kg a bag!), level the surface with rake where planter messed at turning. Two arms are not enough! How I wished that I could operate the planter and let men take care of the really tough work, I thought. I couldn't suggest that as people tried to convince me not to touch the machinery as it is dangerous. Community radio broadcaster loudly warned that, "the elderly and women are more prone to accident!" Some have been killed. Agricultural machines are quite macho, I must admit. When I eventually got my chance to drive one, sitting on it, I felt as if I am an Amazon and I drove the machine as if I'm racing a motorcrosser! It seems slow to bystanders. I must have looked stupid to their eyes. Planting rice is a community effort. Each farmer owes credit for his successful planting to the neighbours who helped. It's hard work, but the rewards are great. I feel some despair when I hear my mother's neighbors say that they will not let their children take over farming. If you feel like helping to keep our farm alive and experiencing a bit of country life, you may consider coming to Hanamaki for the spring rice planting. |
| What fun rice transplanting is! by Mayumi Takahashi |
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I transplanted rice again in 1996. The Balinese plant rice three times a year. Planting season is February,
June and October. Japanese farmers plant once a year as the weather is
too cold for more than one crop (except in warmer regions like Okinawa).
This is reflected in the high price. Japanese law has been amended and
the import of rice to Hong Kong started in1996. Have you seen any? It
must be expensive! In Hong Kong, rice can be planted twice a year. You may wonder if there
are any paddy fields left in Hong Kong. Yes, there are two fields in Produce
Green in Fanling. They only recently reconstructed these fields. All paddy
fields have disappeared under the pressure of rapid industrialization
in Hong Kong. At Produce Green, organic farmers have given a new lease of life to
rice growing in Hong Kong. Seedlings were transplanted on April 14 by
volunteer students and will be ready to harvest this month. Another planting
is scheduled towards the end of the month. When I visited Produce Green in May, the seedlings were small, nonetheless,
I could smell a fragrant aroma around the fields. The farm manager, Vicky
Lau, told me that this variety of rice is called "Ging Heung". "Heung"
means fragrant. I believe fragrant rice is cultivated all over Southeast
Asia. If you would like to visit the farm, they are open every Sunday afternoon.
Produce Green, 18 Hok Tau Village, Fanling. N.T. Tel: 2674 1190 Rice spouts are not only a nutritious food but are fit for transplanting.
Save a few sprouts for a week or so and they will grow into seedlings
(don't forget to rinse them daily!). All you have to prepare is a bucket with soil in it. (A fish tank is
even better as you can observe insects living in a wetland.) Fill the
bucket with water and hold and insert seedlings gently into the soil.
Depending on your dedication, you can harvest rice in about four months.
If you have children, how about making this a summer vacation project?
SAFE NEWS 13 (Jul. 1996)
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| The Meaning
of Food Colouring by Martha Dahle |
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I've just returned from a week on Mayumi's farm in Hanamaki, a small town in northern Japan. My purposes in going were many. The clearcut ones were to help with the spring planting of vegetables and rice, to experience Japanese farm life, to learn some homestyle Japanese cooking. The not-so-clearcut ones involved fresh air and weeds and dirt under the fingernails (and somebody ELSE cooking meals!). Everything was accomplished; I have come back with many fond memories and much food for thought. Here's an incident I'd like to share: At dinner one night, Mayumi proudly pointed out that her mother had made the pickles--the yellow crunchy daikon kind. I asked how they were made. Mayumi translated as her mother listed the ingredients--daikon, salt, persimmon... and, finally, food coloring. Mayumi was disappointed--maybe even embarrassed and horrified--but honest as she mentioned this last one. A short conversation between the two of them ensued, clearly on the subject of food coloring in pickles. I asked what her mother was saying. Mayumi replied, "Well, my mother says she is so "*genki" a little food coloring in the pickles won't hurt her." We both laughed--and possibly we both resolved that when WE made daikon pickles, yellow food coloring would definitely NOT be one of the ingredients. Still, that comment--and the confidence, if not pride, with which it was made--stuck in my mind. Over the next few days, as I carried bath water to the greenhouse for the rice seedlings, as we planted potatoes, corn, radish, chrysanthemum, and leeks, as I harvested yomogi and shitake mushrooms, as we made miso, bathed in the hot springs, visited the temple; as we walked through the flat rice paddies at dusk, I considered what it means to be so genki that a little food coloring won't hurt. I discern at least two puzzling questions here. The first is, Does it make a difference? Food coloring is not, actually, poison. Food coloring is just food coloring. It's not nourishing, but neither is **konnyaku. Some people react to some kinds of food coloring. But some people react to cashew nuts and taro and shrimp; still, we call them "food". Still the main point is that health means tolerance. Those who are really healthy should not be (nor feel) threatened by a little msg or food coloring in their food or a little smoke in the air or a little fluoride in the water. Yet those who should be the healthiest are those MOST concerned about all of these things! What's wrong??? One answer concerns relative quantities: Mayumi's mother mostly eats simple meals based on fresh, home-grown food; she gets daily exercise in the fresh air; she is a valuable and active member of family and community networks. Of course, a little food coloring is merely a small drop of impurity in a large bucket of "genki"! But for us "city people" the food coloring, msg, smoke, exhaust fumes,
contaminated water ARE the bucket! In an all-too discouraging way, for
us too, a little food-colouring is just one more drop. This leads me to the second puzzling question, which is, Why on earth would Mayumi's mother WANT to put yellow food coloring in otherwise perfectly delicious pickles??? I'm sure that, if asked, she would give the obvious answer: Daikon pickles LOOK better with food coloring. Indeed. People are naturally attracted to beauty. Given the resources and opportunity, they hang art on the wall, wear colored clothes, attend concerts, appreciate the smell of fresh flowers. Perhaps there is another kind of nourishment in the yellow of yellow food colouring? How much is that other nourishment worth? What is most valuable? Ah. The puzzles still plague me! Back now in Hong Kong, back to the concrete jungle, I still consider the meaning of yellow food coloring in daikon pickles. *"genki" = "high-spirited" |
| Be a Picker! by Mayumi Takahashi |
| I was in my home town this spring to plant rice. A friend
of mine and I arrived at Hanamaki, Iwate, Japan in late April. Rice planting
takes place when average day-time temperature rises to 15 degree C. Seeds
had been treated and were sown in shallow trays between late March and
the beginning of April. Weather was not good enough to start fertilising,
cultivating, tilling and plowing fields for the preparation of transplanting
young rice plants. I was idle! On the other hand my hard-working friend was busy weeding, planting seeds and transplanting seedlings in the vegetable garden. She harvested scarce spring vegetables, e.g. spinach, pak choi, tsubomi-na, mitsuba, leeks, and she fixed meals for us, too! While we missed the abundant summer harvest of vegetables, my mother brought in a lot of sansai (edible wild plants). My friend was very happy. She's got degrees in horticulture and botany. I consulted encyclopaedia for her at night to find the English and Latin names and I accompanied her on a guided tour led by my mother to see the real things in the day time. I was so surprised to find the tour was in our back yard! I never doubted that picking sansai meant going to the mountain ('san' means mountain), not looking in one's backyard. Community radio broadcasters warn that we'd better wear "bear bells" to avoid bears in the mountain, so this was far safer! There were young shoots of tara, udo, fuki, mizu, warabi, zenmai and wasabi leaves. Wasabi! I believed it was a delicate plant cultivated in paddies. I picked its leaves, shredded and poured hot water over them. Its familiar pungent smell, that you enjoy in sushi bars. where its roots are served grated, filled the room (Wild wasabi roots are small unlike cultivated ones, however, they are different varieties of same species). I was so fascinated and went to the back yard every day. I found sansho. Its young leaves are a delicacy and its seed pods make a good spice, especially for grilled eel. I enjoyed akebi's beautiful flowers. Its delicious fruits are harvested in autumn. I found wild cherries and roses. The Japanese salt cherry leaves and wrap glutinous rice cakes with them. Rosehips make a tea. On our farm in Hanamaki, Japan, we only spend the equivalent of HK$1,600
to feed our family of four, plus relatives and friends, for an entire
month. |