Archive for February 17th, 2014

Since the farmers market in Makawao town moved up to the Pookela church about a year ago, there has been a slow but steady evolution of people and vendors. At first it seemed kinda like the shift would be smooth running. The first couple of weeks showed little sign of slowdown and the location, with the exception of the north side weather proved to be ideal. After all, there we were on the serene grounds of a beautiful old church, treading on grassy earth and looking up the mountain at yet another splendid maui vista. But for some reason, and these things are always hard to figure, the traffic dropped off, sales fell by maybe twenty percent and everybody was holding their breath to see what may come next. Over the past half year and particularly in the last couple of months things have stabilized to the point of having a steady flow of folks wandering through and has become the only market with "farmer on sight" requirements. Nice to know that one is buying direct from the grower. It is a form of social networking that produces increasingly positive results and connects us to the most basic elements of caring for each other. I got food, gimme money. Last week some nicely polished folks from America were strolling around and browsing the goods. The woman, decked out in casual finery picked up some bananas for me to weight out. I did so, pronounced the price and handled her the golden hand. As she took them and was about to put them in her bag, she went a tiny bit wide eyed and said, " oh, there's bugs" (commonly known as ants). Without a moments hesitation I said, "yes, we have a farm and there's bugs. On occasion  we take them out for some fresh air and of course, honor the wishes of those wanting to attend church regularly". For the briefest moment she was slightly baffled but then decided that I was just making an attempt at humor and had a chuckle. For me it was a reminder. A reminder of the degree to which people of a certain ilk will always find fault instead of favor. Will take the time to sip the whine instead of praise the grape. Its a bit like the produce wholesalers who, if you bring them banana's with any sort of blemish, look at you as though you should be shipped out to the leper colony on Molokai for rehab because, BLEMISHES. Now, I have no problem with the notion of people wanting the very best stuff they can get. After all, they're spending "good money" on that shit, but the idea that ants and blemishes make a banana useless is a bit like saying "don't forget to throw grandpa out with the trash, honey. He's reached a tipping point on those liver spots." You know who I love? I love the people who see a tangor with mottled skin and mite damage, give it a tender little squeeze, maybe a bit of a sniff, look up, smile and say "I'll take em' all". The kind of people who know that the food that comes to market may not be stacked neatly or pimple free, but that it has been lovingly tended to and presented with confidence in the fact that as farmers, we do our very best and then let you decide. We are not heavily invested in madison avenue marketing techniques. We are not particularly enamored of ourselves as being cool people. We have no particular interest in pulling the wool over the eyes of the unsuspecting. More often than not we are self effacing, sarcastic of necessity and in love with what we do. Cynicism rarely enters in, but I do love sarcasm. BUGS, on a farm? Lordy, what next........ More bugs. We are experiencing something of a repeat performance featuring the innocuous looking lace bug and the high flying fruit sucking moth. They last performed for us a couple of years back when the white sapote trees got weakened by the lace bug and succumbed to the ravages of the F.S.M. (lost 90%). These critters don't actually know each other, but they combine their energies to bring about the onset of "mad farmers disease", the symptoms of which include cotton mouth, spiking blood pressure, club foot, wringing of hands, gnashing, screaming at cars that go by and regretting not taking that job as a lifeguard at a carwash. This past season our Bosworth lychee busted out with more flowers and fruit than ever before. The luscious little nubules plumping up in the summer sun. I saw marathon eating sessions in my future, and a bit of profit to boot. Guess what? Upon harvesting the first of the seasons bounty, I noticed that many of the fruits had small brown spots. Kinda softer and gooey underneath too. Hoo boy. So I'm thinking that the moth has struck. Now I'm standing there trying to avoid a "mad farmer" attack, which I do by bending down, squeezing a bud of the cheese and taking big yogi breath, and as i release the scented terpenes through my nostrils, I see a common wasp land delicately and precisely on the shoulder of a perfectly ripe lychee. In amazement I watch as this little pisher buries its face into the pinkish red skin, deposits its eggy ooze, takes a taste and moves on to the next one. Cotton mouth with a side order of twitchy leg (new symptom). Mesmerized, I stood by as some eighty percent of the fruit got bit and could only be fed to the chickens and wwoofers. Then there's the annona borer (use your imagination), jak fruit fungus, papaya scourge, powdery mildew, slugs, snails, puppy dog tails and the occasional duck or chook who just Must have some greens (preferably the newly planted kind). This is not woe is me, just the way it is. "Mad farmer disease" is no laughing matter folks. It effects upwards of sixty two percent of small farmers and is by far the leading cause of flatulence among vegetable farmers. If you farm trees, pond dwelling creatures and feathered goats like I do you may be among the thirty eight percent who only suffer insomnia, cash pooria, and projectile diarrhea. Consider yourself lucky. So the next time somebody says to you, "how about the price of food these days, those farmers have it easy collecting their subsidies for not growing and then jacking up the price by controlling the supply. I bet those fuckers all drive ethanol mercedes with solid gold fuel injectors", you raise up your hand with index finger pointed skyward, wag it back and forth, furrow your brow and say " oh no you di-ent. You di-ent just say that. Say no to the people who need to get a clue. Say no, you must understand the essential importance of this work. Say no because you can't eat money. We need to No when it comes to busting the illusions that mire us in misunderstanding and dispassion falsely assigned. Part of me wishes it were easier. The rest of me knows it just gets tougher and that the only choice is to gut it out. So here's to guts, without which life would be freakin' SCARY. The more you show, the more we'll grow. Peace, Jp