From Rescuing Turtles to Rescuing Pineapples
September 8, 2010
Compared to India where we often found ourselves on a buses or trains or rickshaws Jean and I have led a sedentary existence here in Sri Lanka. Other than four or five nights in Beruwela and the night in Nurwela we've slept at our little bungalow at the DDC in the village of Yakalla every night. And during the days it all about the pineapples. Chaminda told me that there a five thousand pineapple plants on the DDC farm. That's a lot of pineapples.
Here's a day in the life of a pineapple farmer:
I usually wake up about six when everything is still quiet. We're a couple of hundred yards from the road and during the day there's regular traffic. The sun hasn't risen yet and the top of the palms are aglow with soft yellow light. There's a covered porch attached to our bungalow. Lately, I've been reading from the book of Jeremiah in the mornings. I've always had trouble keeping my focus through the the old testament prophets. I keep a thumb in II Kings to provide historical context and a frame of reference as I read along.
After some stretches I head back into the bungalow where Jean is stirring and don my work clothes: khaki cargo trousers, long sleeve shirt and a baseball cap. As our clothing is pretty limited Jean and I only have one pair of dedicated work clothes each. And as we're out in the field almost everyday these clothes don't get washed all that often.
I grab a few crackers from our snack horde in the front room and munch on them as I head across the lawn to the dining hall. I fill my Nalgene bottle at the water filter. The DDC's water supply comes from a well so we're able to drink it without any gastrointestinal side effects. The filter is used to take out some of the calcium. We've only bought a few bottles of water in Sri Lanka. We weren't so kind to the Indian ecosystem.
Deva the caretaker/facilities manager is already hard at work. I think he gets started around 6:30. I pass him as he's hoeing the garden in front of the staff's living quarters. We have a brief conversation vaguely deciding on what we'll have for breakfast. It's usually rice and dhal or grated coconut and pumpkin.
“What time breakfast?”
“I don't know. When ever is good for you.”
Deva's brow furrows as if in deep concentration. Then he says. “8:30 is good. Rice and dhal.”
“Sounds good,” I say grabbing a hoe and two pairs of gloves from his room. The courtyard between the dining hall, the staff living quarters and the library is covered with red crushed gravel. The groundskeeper, a stick like man in a white sarong and a cigarette perpetually dangling from his lips, is sweeping leaves up. All day long the whisk, whisk of his straw broom never seems to end.
I say hello to him as I walk through the courtyard. After passing between the two open air lecture halls I turn on to the dirt road leading to the farm. There are three distinctive levels to the farm. The coconut trees tower high overhead. Their jagged fronds are probably fifty feet up. Next are the leafy banana trees that don't look as much like trees as overgrown, twenty foot tall house plants. The guava trees of similar height with trunks and limbs are more tree like.
At the lowest level are the pineapple plants. The biggest ones come up to just above the knee and like I said before there are lots of them. Rows and rows and more rows. Jean and I started on one side three weeks ago and we're just now coming to the other side. If you never seen one, a pineapple plant is composed of several layers of long, flat and pointed leaves growing in a radial fashion around the base. The leaves are supple and have little spines on them. Thus, Jean and I wear, trousers, long sleeve shirts and thick gloves when working with the pineapple plants. A pineapple will grow up out of the base on a thick stalk. Alas, these plants are still a little young for producing fruit.
Two rows are planted close together with open areas on either side to provide access. Chaminda told me that pineapple plants like being close together. As they plants mature their leaves flatten out covering the ground in effect crowding out all potential competition. I imagine growing close together is a survival mechanism the pineapple plant has developed. However, in a natural ecosystem their would be plants of various age. Older plants would provide shelter for young plants to sprout and eventually replace them.
These pineapple plants were all been planted about a year ago. Without older plants to shield them weeds and grasses had encroached on the juvenile plants. In some cases you could just barely make out the tips of their fronds protruding from a mass of vines and grasses. This is where Jean and I come in. If this wasn't an organic farm we couldn't just walk down the row with a hose and and a can of Roundup strapped to our back.
Instead, tools of the organic trade are thick rubber gloves and hoes. The Sri Lanka word for hoe literally means “earth cutter.” I start off with the earth cutter clearing the berm on one of side of row then the other side of the row. Jean arrives a few minutes later and starts weeding. As I go around with the hoe I'm also poking around with it looking for snakes. Sometimes, cobras like to crawl up in between the pineapple plants. I have yet to see one and with six days to go my fingers are crossed that I don't.
After I make my way around with the hoe I don my rubber gloves and join Jean in her weeding efforts. I drop into a crouch and gently pull back the leaves of a pineapple plant. Then I rip out several weeds and release the pineapple plant fronds. A strangler vine has crept over the patch so I pull it free and follow it to it's source where I yank it out by the roots. This row is badly overgrown so it's slow going. Bit by bit we clear out the middle freeing the plants.
Around nine Deva comes out to where we're working. His teeth are pearly white against his dark skin.
“Whoa. Good!” He says admiring our work.
“Thanks,” I reply. I take off my gloves. My hands are pruned and slick with sweat.
“Breakfast ready. Come.” Deva says before turning and taking off towards the dining hall.
Jean stands up and joins me. We hang our gloves in a banana tree, take long draws from our water bottles and and head in for breakfast.
(This is a little trick I learned from the Gandhi autobiography. When one of his chapter gets long he stops and starts a new chapter with the same name and a (II) after it. Look for From Rescuing Turtles to Rescuing Pineapples (II) in a couple of days)
Compared to India where we often found ourselves on a buses or trains or rickshaws Jean and I have led a sedentary existence here in Sri Lanka. Other than four or five nights in Beruwela and the night in Nurwela we've slept at our little bungalow at the DDC in the village of Yakalla every night. And during the days it all about the pineapples. Chaminda told me that there a five thousand pineapple plants on the DDC farm. That's a lot of pineapples.
Here's a day in the life of a pineapple farmer:
I usually wake up about six when everything is still quiet. We're a couple of hundred yards from the road and during the day there's regular traffic. The sun hasn't risen yet and the top of the palms are aglow with soft yellow light. There's a covered porch attached to our bungalow. Lately, I've been reading from the book of Jeremiah in the mornings. I've always had trouble keeping my focus through the the old testament prophets. I keep a thumb in II Kings to provide historical context and a frame of reference as I read along.
After some stretches I head back into the bungalow where Jean is stirring and don my work clothes: khaki cargo trousers, long sleeve shirt and a baseball cap. As our clothing is pretty limited Jean and I only have one pair of dedicated work clothes each. And as we're out in the field almost everyday these clothes don't get washed all that often.
I grab a few crackers from our snack horde in the front room and munch on them as I head across the lawn to the dining hall. I fill my Nalgene bottle at the water filter. The DDC's water supply comes from a well so we're able to drink it without any gastrointestinal side effects. The filter is used to take out some of the calcium. We've only bought a few bottles of water in Sri Lanka. We weren't so kind to the Indian ecosystem.
Deva the caretaker/facilities manager is already hard at work. I think he gets started around 6:30. I pass him as he's hoeing the garden in front of the staff's living quarters. We have a brief conversation vaguely deciding on what we'll have for breakfast. It's usually rice and dhal or grated coconut and pumpkin.
“What time breakfast?”
“I don't know. When ever is good for you.”
Deva's brow furrows as if in deep concentration. Then he says. “8:30 is good. Rice and dhal.”
“Sounds good,” I say grabbing a hoe and two pairs of gloves from his room. The courtyard between the dining hall, the staff living quarters and the library is covered with red crushed gravel. The groundskeeper, a stick like man in a white sarong and a cigarette perpetually dangling from his lips, is sweeping leaves up. All day long the whisk, whisk of his straw broom never seems to end.
I say hello to him as I walk through the courtyard. After passing between the two open air lecture halls I turn on to the dirt road leading to the farm. There are three distinctive levels to the farm. The coconut trees tower high overhead. Their jagged fronds are probably fifty feet up. Next are the leafy banana trees that don't look as much like trees as overgrown, twenty foot tall house plants. The guava trees of similar height with trunks and limbs are more tree like.
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| They're in there somewhere. |
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| These guys like to hang out and see if we unearth any grubs |
Around nine Deva comes out to where we're working. His teeth are pearly white against his dark skin.
“Whoa. Good!” He says admiring our work.
“Thanks,” I reply. I take off my gloves. My hands are pruned and slick with sweat.
“Breakfast ready. Come.” Deva says before turning and taking off towards the dining hall.
Jean stands up and joins me. We hang our gloves in a banana tree, take long draws from our water bottles and and head in for breakfast.
(This is a little trick I learned from the Gandhi autobiography. When one of his chapter gets long he stops and starts a new chapter with the same name and a (II) after it. Look for From Rescuing Turtles to Rescuing Pineapples (II) in a couple of days)
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