What the Ende people can teach us about urban agriculture (and why it matters)

As I was exploring the UCSB library, I came across the book: “Farms of Tomorrow: Community-Supported Agriculture.” By then, I was already engrossed with the concept of community-supported agriculture (CSA). Over the summer, I studied the food system of the Ende people of Papua New Guinea — their model of food production seemed to echo the collaborative system CSA describes, where farmers share responsibilities, risks, and rewards directly with the consumer. This book helped me draw the parallels between the Ende people's food system and a more sustainable vision for urban food systems.

While the book offered arguments from socio-economic perspectives for introducing CSA, I found its argument of spirituality most compelling. The authors suggested that the industrial model of food production had disconnected most modern consumers from their food — the people, land, and processes that produce what they eventually find on their dinner plates. This is a sentiment I share. In China, the older generation often chides young people for being “unable to distinguish the five crops.” While the use of figurative language here describes a lack of practical knowledge, it likely stands true even if taken literally.

Perhaps this isn’t surprising. After all, the conveniences of modern society mean that we often do not know where most of the products we use come from. Is there a reason we should be specifically concerned about our detachment from food?

I would posit that food holds a special position in virtually any culture around the world. It is the most fundamental security that society builds itself on. Beyond providing sustenance, food also encapsulates our relationship with the environment: not only how the environment complements our labor but also how we rise to the challenges posed by the environment.

While the book was published in 1990, making most of its examples antiquated, its vision nonetheless holds. CSA encourages consumers to become more involved in the agricultural process — providing farmers financial, material, and manual support. It promotes a form of stewardship that brings people closer to the food they eat, providing a valuable educational experience for the youth.

I saw many similarities between CSA and the practices of the Ende people. Food plays a significant role in their society, especially in a communal setting. The stories Ende people record often feature food-sharing as a source of pride for the farmer or hunter. In one vivid story, Jack describes bringing a cassowary (a large flightless bird) back to the village, where it was prepared by all members and served in a communal feast. At the start of the wet season, all members of the village — children, adults, or the elderly — will participate in preparing yam gardens for cultivation. However, this emphasis on collective participation does not take away from the notion of individual stakes: the yam garden is divided into equal square plots for each household. The intimacy between the Ende community and their food shows in their celebrations. Elaborate yam ceremonies are hosted to “welcome” harvested yams into the village. In one recording, Rose describes people dancing, singing, and speaking words of appreciation to the yams.

The Ende village of Limol, tucked in the swamp-savannah of Western Papua New Guinea, could not seem further away from a city like Shanghai or New York. However, I couldn’t help but think that there were many important lessons the world’s megacities could draw from the Ende people. The Ende people demonstrate that community involvement in food production can build more friendly, supportive, and united societies. Events surrounding food production — whether cultivation, harvest, or consumption — offer great opportunities to bring the community together and give shape to a common identity that is so often missing in many large cities.

This makes me excited about CSA initiatives in cities, which often take the form of urban gardening. Whenever I visit Fuzhou, I am struck by the small yet richly diverse gardens I find on the rooftops of apartment buildings. In some compounds, residents will be allocated a small portion of the space to grow their produce; others take care of crops together and share the harvest. In Beijing, the San Yuan farm gives urban dwellers the opportunity to rent out plots to cultivate in their free time, while also teaching students about different farming methods (Finnsson). The Danish city of Aarhus has pioneered a large community garden in its harbor area, attracting over 300 urban farmers — planners hope this can give people a better appreciation of the long and complex processes involved in the food value chain (Finnsson).

Image: The urban gardening initiative in Aarhus (source: Geo)

Urban gardens fulfill many tasks at once — they not only reduce the distance from basket to table, thus increasing the sustainability of our food systems, but also make cities more resilient in food security. In addition, they can bring much-needed green space and community space to large cities. The potential of urban gardens to serve important civic functions should not be overlooked by planners — they offer a space where people of different backgrounds and occupations can work side-by-side for the most fundamental human demand. I think there is something simple yet beautiful about this endeavor that reminds us of our shared identity.  

Sources

Finnsson, Páll Tómas. “Exploring urban farming in China and the EU — a joint venture.” Nordregio, 23 Nov. 2018, https://nordregio.org/nordregio-magazine/issues/the-bright-green-future-of-land-use/exploring-urban-farming-in-china-and-the-eu-a-joint-venture/.

‘Jetzt Aarhus entdecken!’ geo.de, 21 Nov. 2016, https://www.geo.de/reisen/reiseziele/15217-rtkl-kulturhauptstadt-2017-jetzt-aarhus-entdecken.