Delicious Murder - Part Two

Okay, so you're a meat eater. You eat cow, pig, fish and chicken meat; maybe even rabbit, lamb or deer. Perhaps you don't eat certain animals because of religious rules. Or perhaps because something is just not quite right about it. Or maybe you're a person that would try anything.

I thought myself to be a rather courageous, adventurous eater. Recently, I tried horse meat in Russia, yak meat in Mongolia, reindeer meat in Finland, and kangaroo meat in Australia, taking some care to consume animals that are common and plentiful, and not rare or endangered. I've always scoffed at people who refuse to eat certain animals simply because they feel some special affection towards it. Oh, a lamb or rabbit is too cute to eat? And just because a pig is somehow not as cute means you don't mind eating it? They are still two living beings, said the left-hemisphere of my brain. What's the difference between killing one animal or killing another?

When I read in my China guidebook that there was a food market in Yangshuo that sold dog meat, I knew I had to see it for myself. Before we get into this subject further, let's get one thing straight: most Chinese people do NOT eat dogs. One last thing: be warned that there is a rather graphic photo below, so please do not continue reading if you may be bothered by it.

This food market was like no other I had ever been to, on my travels or even in China. It was in a dark warehouse, there was blood on the floor, and even the air felt thick and heavy. The butcher stalls in the back were mostly selling poultry, but some had dogs and cats. The dogs were all of the same breed - a white, short-haired dingo-type dog. There were live dogs in wire cages under the tables, and roasted dogs hanging from hooks at the front. It was fascinating and horrifying. I took a couple of quick, out-of-focus photos, and made a beeline for the exit.

Having grown-up in a culture where dogs are man's best friend, this experience really spun my head around. Even if I had mentally prepared myself, I don't think I could have walked up to the stall and paid for a piece of take-out barbeque dog, let alone stuck around to gawk for a bit longer, especially with caged dogs looking on. The whole scene seemed cruel and unnecessary.

The same question from before stuck in my mind: what's the difference between killing one animal and killing another? I didn't have any reaction to the chicken stalls at the same market, with their stacks of caged chickens against the wall and their displays of delicious cooked chickens. Is it just a matter of getting used to eating new and different animals? If so, where is the line between civilized, moral human beings and murderous cannibals?

Delicious Murder - Part One

The ethical treatment of food animals is one important consideration in deciding whether or not to eat meat, but it seems most people are happily ignorant, perhaps so that they can continue to eat their favourite meaty foods without their conscience spoiling the fun. It certainly doesn't help that those do who speak up for animal rights are demonized in the media as psychotic, emotionally unstable women or effeminate men. Yet I think we can all agree that caging animals in highly confined and unsanitary spaces, or administering death in a way that causes prolonged pain and suffering is not cool, dude.

But if the animal was raised in a natural environment and killed in a humane way, are we free to feast without guilt? My personal opinion: if you can raise and kill the animal yourself, thus fully aware and involved in the ethical questions and ends of your actions, then yes, you can eat that animal with a clean conscience.Sounds straight-forward, but I myself have not had the chance to kill an animal to eat. During our travels through the countryside of Mongolia, I learned that even watching someone else do the dirty work isn't so simple.
The Mongolian nomadic people rely on their herds of animals for surviving in their harsh, unforgiving landscape. We were staying at a ger camp with a family that owned goats and camels. Our group of 6 tourists decided that we would purchase a goat for $60, and have it killed, dressed, cleaned and cooked to feed us over the next few days while we were camping in the countryside.
A smallish goat was presented to us for inspection. Our approval meant a death sentence for this young animal. After we gave the go-ahead, the goat was immediately flipped on its back, and held down by two men to prevent struggle or escape. I watched the goat squeeze its eyes shut as one of the men used a sharp knife to make a 12-inch cut along its belly. The man then reached his arm inside the goat, stopping its heart for a clean and quick kill. The dead goat was carried inside a ger, the skin removed, innards and flesh cleaned and prepared for cooking. Keeping with the Mongolian tradition, all parts of the goat are used in some way. It seemed clear that this was a very ethical and humane way to eat meat. The animals are free to roam and forage the grasslands for most of their lives. The actual kill is quick. And for these nomadic people, the animals serve as one of their few sources of nutrition. Yet for a traveller like me, who spends most of my time in places where non-animal sources of food are readily available, this goat's death seems like a big sacrifice in comparison to the small luxury of short-lived, tasty enjoyment. The feeling of guilt was stronger than I imagined. Could I have abstained from a few meat-containing meals to preserve this goat's life?

The Sunflower Revolution (Part Three)

What a day! Seedy Sunday was back again this year, and in full force. The event moved to the University of Toronto Hart House, a bigger space than the Wychwood Barns location it has been at for the past years. It was clear that the extra space was needed for new and bigger displays and tables. The buzz of ideas exchanging between seed swappers, food sellers, community groups and gardening gurus filled the hall with excitement and body heat.

I dropped off the seed bomb dispenser early in the morning prior to the sneak preview. I was unable to get the "Sunflower Your City" seed bombing info blog up-and-running last night... bah. The dispenser, sign and envelopes were strategically set-up at the end of the TCGN display, close to the event reception desk. As I took photos of my mini display, a few people approached me to give me props, one of whom was Lara. She was at the event promoting a campaign to have her book, An Illustrated Guide to Growing Food on Your Balcony, sent to the printer. Big up yourself!

I left the hall shortly after, feeling anxious about splitting so quickly. When I returned a couple hours later, it looked like a good chunk of balls were missing. Hurray! TCGN volunteers were doing a great job of manning the display and explaining what it was to curious onlookers. Garden Jane's seed bomb making kits were also set-up beside the dispenser... a perfect combination. I was able to chat with Jane a little later on, and she explained to me that she sourced a special food-safe clay for her kit. She suggested that we join forces in the near future. High five!

At the end of the day, about half of the bombs had been dispensed, and a little envelope of coins was collected for the TCGN. The seed bomb machine garnered much attention and appreciation, though coins kept getting stuck and the balls didn't come out all the time. I ended up lending the entire display to the Seedy Sunday organizers, who wanted to use it for their North York event next month. Though I would be out of the country by that time, I was happy to oblige. Hopefully I'll be able to connect them with Evergreen, who was keen on taking the dispenser for the rest of the year.

Now, we wait and watch. Go forth, bomb throwers and sunflower minions, and spread your roots of colour and life into our city.

The Sunflower Revolution (Part Two)

Seedy Sunday is less than 24 hours away, and I'm scrambling to get my seed bomb dispenser completed. I also found out that there's a TCGN-member sneak preview of the event, meaning we start 1.5 hrs earlier than I thought. The good news is that I've made all 229-ish seed bombs, using up all of the sunflower seeds and clay. And the dispenser isn't even full! It could probably take 300 bombs. About 30 seed bomb envelopes are also ready to go, each of which fit 3 bombs snug.

I put a good handful of bombs into the dispenser as a test run, and it works like a charm. But with all 200+ bombs, it doesn't work so nice. Hm, that makes me a little nervous. I've found that giving the dispenser a good shake will help move the bombs along.

I've mentioned this project to a few friends, most of whom have no clue about seed bombing. I struggle with a good explanation to explain why anyone would want to deposit these balls around the city for fun. After some thought, I think this might describe it best: seed bombing is like graffiti for gardeners.

The dispenser is as much of an interactive art installation as it is a community activist weapon. The sign I've started to sketch will probably be more of the 'art' part. I also wanted it all to be accompanied by a blog with more information about seed bombs, sunflowers and guerrilla gardening, but I'm not sure I have time to do a good job of it. I've set-up an email account (thesunflowerrevolution@gmail.com) and reserved the blog name (sunflower-your-city.blogspot.com), just in case.

With markers in one hand and a beer in the other, I hope the next 12 hours will be good to me.

The Sunflower Revolution (Part One)

Sometime last summer, I was at a local burrito shop grabbing a quick bite before a movie. A business card tacked on the bulletin board caught my eye. It read: "Soiled and Seeded - cultivating a garden culture". I took a photo with my camera phone to look it up later. When I did, I learned that Soiled and Seeded was a Toronto-based, soon-to-be online urban gardening magazine. I loved the concept, loved the arsty photos, and signed-up for their newsletter.

When I received their first newsletter, there was an article that caught my eye. A company in Los Angeles, Greenaid, was renting out seed bomb dispensers that looked like gumball machines in major American cities. The idea impressed me a great deal, but I wasn't so keen with the seemingly for-profit nature of it. To me, seed bombs are a tool for freedom of expression and community ownershipurban gardening in its most basic, raw form. Profit just doesn't fit into the picture.

In December, I was at an indie craft show with a friend, when an art installation caught my eye. It was a giant junk food dispenser, only instead of candy, it dispensed poems. I remembered the seed bomb dispenser, and mentioned it to my pal. She suggested that instead of renting out a machine from Greenaid, that I make my own dispenser from a vintage gumball machine. I was impressed with my friend's ingenuity.

Last week, I was surfing on Craigslist, and saw a vintage gumball machine for sale. It was perfect: counter-top sized, and set-up for a pay-what-you-can system, where someone would not have to insert coins in order to retrieve the goodies inside. I did some quick research and learned how easy making seed bombs was. I quickly sourced the clay from an art store, the compost from my worm bin, and the seeds from Urban Harvest. The seeds, I decided, would have to be from the sunflower plant; for their fiery beauty, their toughness, and their amazing powers in removing toxins from the soil. Exactly what this city needs.

A quick email to one of the organizers of Seedy Sunday sealed the deal. They were more than happy to set-up my repurposed sunflower seed bomb dispenser at one of their tables. We agreed that all bomb proceeds would go to The Toronto Community Garden Network, a committed group of urban gardeners that fuels the garden movement through engagement and involvement.

I guess it's a very long winded way of telling you some exciting news, but I really love the way all of these small events came together so nicely. Each event became a catalyst for the next, and I think it poetically illustrates the symbiotic relationship of a community.

Year Two: Reflection, and Looking Forward

Happy belated birthday, my dearest blog. Looking back 2 years ago, when you were first born, it seems so long ago when I first started posting in my tiny west-end apartment. Back then, local food was on the come-up. The book, "The 100-Mile Diet", had been released for a year, and only a handful of the city folk I talked to understood the desire to know where their food comes from. I was already well into the ideologies of localism, but the thought of authoring a blog abhorred me for several reasons. 2008 was the year I broke down.

Fast forward to 2010. Locallyproducedfood is a household string of words, already adopted by the mainstream as a corporate social responsibility halo (see marketing campaigns for Hellman's mayonnaise, Lay's potato chips and Loblaws supermarkets). Nearly every neighborhood in downtown Toronto has a weekly farmer's market. I think it's a step in the right direction, though I warn that Motive is as important as Action.

But just when I thought I was the coolest local food kid on the block, I quickly discovered I still had a long way to go. So this year, I attended workshops on How To Start a Community Garden, and Mushroom Cultivation. My partner and I organized a CSA delivery group, tried to convince our community to set-up a garden at Joel Weeks park, flirted with guerrilla gardening and wild foraging, made and served veggie chili to hundreds of G20 protesters, and delved deeper into DIY craft through crochet, soaps and salves. We met dozens of people through Everdale, the G20 weekend, Plan B, Foodshare, Not Far From The Tree, and our daily travels, all of whom live and breathe activism, and continue to inspire and motivate my own life. And still, I feel this is only the beginning.

This year also brought about great strides in my balcony garden experiment, demonstrated by the appearance of fully grown, happy plants. I could not have done it without learning from Year One, proving that there is truth to those annoying "try, try again" quotes. The best advice I have coming out of Year Two is take care of your soil.

2011 will bring even more change. Starting in March, I'll be taking a year off to travel through Europe, Asia and Australia. It is with sadness that I announce that this blog will be on hold during that time. Though I'll no doubt be dying to share travel stories with you all, I can assure you it won't be through a travel blog or Facebook account. We'll figure something out.

Wishing you all a year of courage, change and action.

In solidarity,
Minda

Read This! The Edible City

Think you love food? Think you know your city? I think not.

Though the title reads "from farm to fork", this is NOT just another book persuading you to buy local, sustainable, fair trade, organic, ethical, rah, rah. It’s a story about FOOD, and TORONTO. Rather, a collection of essays about craft beer, indie coffee shops, world culture, food policy, history, gardens, food service, street food, migrant workers, food sanitation practices and life as a rat. Just to name a few.

This book is easily one of my favourite reads this year. One of the best essays came from Wayne Roberts, Toronto’s own food policy darling. “How Toronto found its food groove” celebrates Toronto’s food movement past, present and future in a way that makes you truly feel proud of our city.

But really, they are ALL fantastic reads. Read one, read them all.

The Dark Side of Local Food

Like most Canadians, I watched last Sunday's Olympic men's hockey final, and celebrated at the top of my lungs in the company of strangers when Canada took the gold medal from the US in overtime. And like most Canadians, I felt proud to be Canadian.



That feeling was short-lived. Today, I watched a short NFB documentary called "El Contrato" (2003). This film exposes the hardship of thousands of seasonal Mexican migrant workers, who come to the town of Leamington, in Ontario, to work on tomato greenhouse farms. Life at home in Mexico is difficult, so they take the job in Canada through the Seasonal Agricultural Worker Program (SAWP), to support their family. Unbeknownst to them, they enter a contract into slavery:

• Exemptions from basic workers rights --- 10-hour work days, 7-day work weeks, without holiday or overtime pay
• Physical and verbal abuse --- from their employer, and the Leamington community
  
• Poor living conditions
• Heavy income taxes --- over 25% of their salary goes to CPP and EI, even though they cannot access these benefits
• Unsafe work --- such as spraying pesticides without wearing protection
• Threats of deportation
• Humiliation --- their employers call them "little donkeys", and call themselves "their owners"
• Difficulty in accessing health care --- even in cases of severe workplace accident events
• Resistance to organizing --- in Ontario, farm unions are illegal (though this may change soon, see "Fraser v Ontario")
  
• A deaf ear from the Mexican consolate --- they protect the growers, not the workers
  

In fact, the film notes that the workers share something in common: they are all married men with strong family ties and little to no education. These are the kind of workers that won't stick around to become Canadian citizens. Clearly, being separated from their families causes great emotional stress for these workers, and many promise they won't return next year. But still, many of them do return, in the absence of other options.

My concern is that with the local food movement increasing in force, these farms are only going to get bigger, and the issue more widespread.

CALL-TO-ACTION: What can we do to help? Here are some ideas:

1. Contact your MP to demand rights for migrant farm workers. Justice for Migrant Workers has a mock petition letter that you can use.
   
2. Contact Heinz (which uses Leamington tomatoes, and even has a Leamington factory). Tell them that you'll stop buying their products until they support migrant workers rights in Canada.
   
3. Contact the film director and/or TVO (who aired the movie) to show your support. Both were threatened with legal action by the town of Leamington and the tomato growers.
4. Support the cause. Befriend Justice for Migrant Workers, join a rally/march, get educated, spread the word.

How about some human rights to go with those 14 gold Olympic medals, Canada?

Let's Get Seedy

Words heard just before entering this past weekend's much anticipated "Seedy Saturday on a Sunday" event at Toronto's Wychwood Barns.

The usual suspects were present: Urban Harvest, Greta's, The Cottage Gardener, and the like, selling their organic, rare, heirloom and mostly edible plant seeds. But there were quite a number of small seed vendors, a welcome change from last year. I bought dill seeds for my balcony from Wall Flower Studio, and 'merveille de quatre saisons lettuce' seeds from Wildsome Gardens and mache seeds from the Riverdale Meadow Community Garden for a gardener pal. I also picked up greenheaded coneflower and cup plant seeds from the seed exchange tables, for a guerilla gardening experiment. Most artful seed packet prize goes to Urban Tomato Seeds, and photography prize to the person who always forgets their camera goes to moi.

Not to be overlooked were the community and activist groups also present at the event. These organizations work with fire in their hearts and sweat on their brows to build and maintain local and global food security systems. I now know that USC Canada created an animated film called "The Story of Food" to teach the public about our food system, the Riverdale Meadow Community Garden has plots available, and Not Far From The Tree taps maple syrup in the city. Seeds for your brain.

Pay-What-You-Can was also a clear theme, making the event and its information and wares accessible to all cash-brackets.

Let's all get seedy.