IT doesn't seem to bode well for any outdoor event when the sun is nowhere in sight. The rumble of thunder adds to my angst as I slow down my car. The familiar limestone caves loom ahead, casting a pale shadow on the cluster of buildings below. I'm finally here.
Standing in front of the archway which reads "Sek. Jen. Keb. Batu Caves", I pause for a moment. In the distance, I catch a glimpse of the famous Murugan deity, its gold brilliance undiminished by the lack of sunlight.
"I can't speak Tamil!" I'd protested indignantly when I first received the assignment. My editor was, however, unsympathetic. "I'm sure you'll manage," she dryly responded and I grunted in annoyance.
Watch kids do a bit of gardening? Nothing earth-shattering enough to warrant me getting up at an ungodly hour to make that drive to Gombak. Still, an assignment is — after all — an assignment.
The Tamil primary school at Batu Caves was to kickstart their non-chemical farm on Saturday. According to N. V. Subbarow, this was to be the first natural farming activity carried out on a grand scale, involving parents and teachers as well.
Subbarow is the education officer of the Consumers' Association of Penang (CAP), which is a grassroots non-profit, civil society organisation based in Penang.
CAP aims to promote critical awareness and action among people in order to uphold consumer rights and interests by engaging in education, community mobilisation, research, advocacy, training and publication.
For years, CAP has been running similar programmes in hundreds of schools across the nation. Subbarow intends to take the experience one step further — helping children explore bigger questions in their neighbourhoods, for example, what the food choices are, and why healthy options are often hard to find or afford.
So here I am. It's not even 9am yet. The security guards at the entrance eye me curiously before running towards me as I step into the compound, waving their hands and saying something in Tamil that I don't understand.
In between the urgent words, the term "madam" is the only one I recognise. "Subbarow… S..U..BBAROWW!" I try to clearly articulate the name of the person I'm supposed to meet. They don't seem to recognise that name. We stare at each other. Clearly, we've reached an impasse. Houston, we might have a problem.
Just when I'm about to pick up my phone and call, a slightly-built man in blue kurta walks briskly up to me. "Miss Elena?" he asks, before clasping his palms together.
"Vannakam!" Subbarow greets me formally. As if in tandem, a chorus of "Vannakam!" rings through the compound as people gather around me, smiling. Gingerly I respond with my own muttered "Vannakam!"
If only my mother could see me right now. All her years of attempting to get me to learn Tamil have culminated in this singular moment. I have just used one word from my rather limited arsenal of Tamil phrases learnt over the years. She'd probably laugh her head off.
In the open hall located in the centre of the large compound, hundreds of children sit patiently on the floor waiting for the "show" to start. The buzz of excited conversations reaches fever pitch when the teachers motion for the students to head towards the little patch of garden at the back.
LITTLE GARDENERS
"Where are the worms?" someone asks. One child giggles and then shudders. Worms? The boys perk up. This is beginning to get interesting. "We can't find the worms!" exclaims Subbarow, looking around.
Worms, I repeat. The bespectacled man nods with a distracted smile. His eyes are still looking over my shoulders. The worms are nowhere in sight, and he looks slightly worried. Still, he finds the time to school me.
Organic farming is a method of farming where instead of chemical fertilisers, natural waste is used to nourish the soil. Organic foods are produced in more environmentally friendly ways that benefit the environment instead of harming it. These natural methods, says Subbarow, elevate the quality of soil and reduce energy use, carbon emissions and pollution.
"Why do you do this at schools?" I ask.
"Don't you want to know where your food comes from?" he counters back pointedly, adding at length: "Children ought to know the benefits and challenges of growing their own food. For one, it's healthier. For another, they would have a healthy respect for farmers and those responsible for making those food available."
Adding, he says: "Of course, this also helps alleviate their family's burden of having to purchase healthy organic food which can be expensive. If you can grow them in your homes, you wouldn't have to be subject to the rising food prices these days!"
Organic farming, he continues, also helps create awareness on the harmful effects of chemical-based fertilisers to health and highlights the importance of saving the environment with the adoption of eco-friendly practices.
He explains: "It enhances the children's food literacy by teaching them how and when food is grown, while educating them about health, nutrition as well as the social and environmental impacts of food choices."
Point well taken. But then I remember my feeble attempts at growing vegetables in my home. None survived, I confess sheepishly to the bookish older man.
He smiles and pats my shoulder. "Trust me, you can grow them. You just need some patience and you also need to talk to your plants!" he tells me blithely.
Looking at the excited faces gathered around that tiny enclave, I can see that they are eager to plant something into the row of little poly bags filled with soil.
"This is one way to pull them away from their smartphones and television screens," he remarks drily, adding: "What's more exciting than experiencing something grow in front of your eyes?"
Ever since the Covid-19 pandemic struck, the demand for organic and naturally sourced food has increased in the country, points out Subbarow. "There's a tremendous increase in the number of people asking for guidance in growing their own food and setting up kitchen gardens. It's time people realise that medicines won't fix their immunity, — but clean and healthy lifestyle can," he asserts.
In a time of increasing population growth, climate change and environmental degradation, we need agricultural systems that come with a more balanced portfolio of sustainability benefits, he points out.
Organic farming is one of the healthiest and strongest sectors in agriculture today and will continue to grow and play a larger part in feeding the world. It produces adequate yields and better unites human health, environment and socioeconomic objectives than conventional farming.
Looking around the noisy little enclave where teachers, parents and chattering students eagerly await his instructions, he waves his hand and asks: "What better than to start an organic farm here at school?"
Ah yes, I agree with all of that. But what about the worms, I ask curiously. His face falls again. Stopping a teacher, he urgently asks her to look out for the bag of worms. "It must be here somewhere!" he protests.
The worms, he tells me, are to turn their compost into fertiliser. If things go well, the worms would burrow into the pile of dead leaves, shredded newspaper and other compostable items, reducing "trash" and producing fertiliser for the plants.
Before that point, worms were so disgusting to me I avoided them at all costs. It never once crossed my mind they might be a subject worth pondering on by the mere fact that they're quite the star in many organic farmers' eyes.
They lived in the dirt, eating out of one end before expelling from the other. Not to mention they were slimy, alien and just gross. And then there's the myth every kid is fascinated by: that if you cut them in half they will just go ahead and multiply rather than die. It's actually not true. The head may survive to grow a new tail but it does not essentially become two worms. But still, to my child brain: ewwww.
I can only express my shame now.
The 68-year-old has brought along an extra "reinforcement" in the form of N. Gobalakrishnan, a natural farming expert from India. The exuberant Indian farmer is animated as he converses in rapid Tamil with the young students. In his hands are seeds, and he's busy pointing to them as he talked while the students listened with rapt attention.
"I've literally no idea what he's saying," I confess to Subbarow and he nods understandingly. Gobalakrishan, reveals Subbarow, has 30 acres of land back in Tiruchirappalli, India, where he grows sugar cane, rice, turmeric, ginger and banana.
"He's also the earthworm expert in India," says Subbarow, eyes twinkling. According to the CAP education officer, Gobalakrishnan is a firm proponent of vermicasting or vermicomposting, the processing of organic wastes through earthworms. It is a natural, odourless, aerobic process, much different from traditional composting.
"Right now, he's telling them about why it's important to grow your own vegetables organically," explains Subbarow, adding quietly: "The importance of agriculture can never be highlighted enough. Here at least, children are learning about agriculture and about where their food comes from."
He walks away to instruct the parents who are also participating in this programme to stand in line alongside their children. A smiling teacher comes along with her hands filled with seeds. Instructing both students and parents to stretch out their hands, Gobalakrishnan presses a seed into every offered palm.
"It's time to plant," announces Subbarow, smiling. Today, they'll be planting lady's finger, papaya, snake gourd, spinach, brinjal, sunflower and curry leaf. A veritable feast in every kitchen should the seeds germinate and thrive.
The excitement bubbles over. It doesn't take long for the seed to be planted in the waiting polybags. As they press seedlings into the thick, dark earth inside, the "head farmer", Subbarow, urges the children to encourage their plants as they water them for the first time.
They break into laughter, their hands still playing with the dirt.
But Subbarow presses on. The plants can hear you, he tells them earnestly. You have to help them survive in this difficult place. "It's really true," he later explains to me, washing soil from his hands. "Plants thrive when you talk to them."
The planting is over in mere minutes. It isn't backbreaking work, by any means, but the mere ceremony of planting has clearly sparked something inside the young children.
I hang back from the laughing group as they return to the open hall in front, pretending to tie my shoelace. After they trickle into the corridor, I finally bend down.
Perhaps I could offer some form of encouragement to this lot. It's not a very big garden, after all. And they probably need all the pep talk they can get.
"You are going to be a star one day," I whisper to one of the polybags. "Keep growing. You going to make it through. Don't worry about it."
LIFELONG PASSION
It's better to be a farmer than anything else, declares Subbarow fervently. Looking at my surprised face, he continues impassionedly: "It's true! Without a farmer, there won't be food to eat. I often tell children that if they do have the privilege of meeting a farmer, they should salute him. He's the one giving us a good life and providing good nutrition!"
CAP, he tells me, aims to educate students and teachers on the importance of agriculture. "I feel over time this has become a forgotten field," he laments.
Agriculture is important. Growing vegetables and plants should be activities done by everyone, he points out. "If you don't want to be a farmer, plant something! Plant a tree, grow a vegetable! It doesn't matter if you don't have the land, you can literally plant anywhere… your balcony, polybags, little pots!"
His passion stems from his childhood, growing up in the estates of Teluk Intan, Perak. Subbarow's mother was a rubber tapper who cultivated her own plot of vegetables and fruits.
His father, the estate general worker, had passed away early on. "We never lacked anything. We had a variety of vegetables and fruits like rambutan, papayas, and jackfruits," he recalls, smiling.
His mother, until the age of 92, continued to sit and potter at her garden, growing vegetables. "Till today, I can still vividly recall her sitting at her garden, tending to her vegetables!" he says quietly with a wistful smile. "Today? We have to buy everything! A few curry leaves can cost us up to five ringgit!" he says, shaking his head.
But there's hope. Schools are more than eager to teach their students about farming and agriculture. He says that CAP has been fielding many calls from schools eager to start a farming programme.
"They have the land, but they don't have the knowledge. That's okay because we're here to help. We can teach you to source for your own compost, pesticide and fertilisers. You have everything you need right in your own households and schools!" he exclaims.
Subbarow assures me that the programme doesn't simply stop at just this session alone. "I'll be following up with the school to get updates and learn about their challenges as they embark on this organic farming project. From time to time, I'll send organic farmers to the school and help them with the project. This is lifelong education at its best."
The farming enthusiast, who has been with CAP for more than four decades, tells me that he will continue to champion agriculture and organic farming for as long as he can.
"It's what I'm passionate about," the sprightly man readily admits, adding with a grin: "People ask me where I get the energy to do this. I just tell them that I simply love my job!"
It's soon time for Subbarow to give his talk, with hundreds of enthusiastic children as his "audience". As I get ready to leave, the affable headmistress of SJK (T) Batu Caves walks up to me.
S. Sarasvathy takes me on a quick tour to yet another little green patch, ama herbal garden that the school has been cultivating. "We started this during the pandemic," she tells me proudly.
Adding, she shares: "There's still much to do. But this has been a team effort — right from the parents-teachers' association to the school alumni, teachers and our students. Everyone has been instrumental in getting this garden going. We're now excited to have the organic farm as an addition as well!"
When schools begin to teach fundamentals such as farming, there's hope that the spark which has been lit today would spread to the surrounding homes of students.
"Tepukkkkkk Komandooooo!" I hear a young boy yell out before the students proceed to clap rhythmically after Subbarow's talk. Surely some good will come out of this little event, I think, as I smile at the palpable excitement bubbling in the hall.
The sun has broken through the leaden skies. It's not going to rain after all. In the distance, Lord Murugan, protector and defender, glimmers and shimmers even more brightly. In the shadows of the limestone caves, a seed has been planted and hope will soon spring out. The gods must be pleased.