NYC-Feature Story

The Farm Next Door
Blocks from my doorstep, I found an urban cornucopia

By Rumonat Akinlolu

When I heard the NYC writers were going to a farm as part of our reporting, I assumed that we would be going far, far away. I was surprised to discover that not only was this farm in New York City, it was right in my neighborhood! The community members who started the farm back in the ’90s must have known it was unexpected, because they gave it a name with an exclamation mark built in: East New York Farms! It was only about a five-minute bus ride away from my house.

At first, I was skeptical. I wondered why people would grow crops in a place like East New York, a neighborhood known more for its gang activity than its greenery. When we got there, Wanda, a fellow NYC writer, said, “Wow, this is small!” I agreed; it was only the size of a regular parking lot.

East New York Farms! began more than 10 years ago, when local residents turned an abandoned lot into this green cornucopia. Other abandoned lots have been turned into urban farms and gardens around the city, mostly in low-income neighborhoods where it’s otherwise difficult to find fresh produce.

While it’s only half an acre, packed inside the mini-farm were beets, carrots, bitter melons, and pole beans identified by colorful signs. Bright yellow sunflowers, which I had never seen being grown, blossomed all around.

I would have loved the scenery if there hadn’t been so much mud. It was raining. While we waited for the interns who worked on the farm to come greet us, we moaned that the rain would ruin the day.

Farmer for a Day

A youth intern program at the farm pays 24 teenagers to work in the garden, conduct workshops, and sell their produce at a weekly farmers market just outside the gates. They also learn how to hone their leadership skills and become active in the community. But today, they would be showing us what their jobs on the farm were like.

When they arrived, I wondered what we would do all afternoon. I wasn’t exactly pleased to find that we would be weeding. They split us into groups of three: I was matched up with Chantal, a fellow NYC writer, and a 15-year-old farm intern named Cameal Tapper. She brought us to the covered greenhouse, which I was happy to go to because the rain wouldn’t reach us there.

Weeding was harder than I thought. The weeds looked just like regular plants, so I worried I might accidentally pull up a green pepper plant. There were thick weeds that took a lot of strength to pull out. Cameal told us about a specific type of weed that could choke plants and explained that some weeds could be eaten.

Reaping the Rewards

As we ripped the invading weeds out of the ground, we asked Cameal questions about her job at the farm. She explained the way the farm runs: They grow everything organically, meaning they don’t use chemical herbicides to kill the weeds like many big factory farms do. Instead, real people like us pull out each weed by hand. They also don’t use chemical pesticides, so we could safely sample a strawberry right from the plant without worrying that we were consuming harmful chemicals.

As we finished up our chore, Cameal also told us about herself. She said that at first she worked at the farm just for the money, but as she learned more about farming, she grew attached to the job. I could see how dedicated and proud of her work she was.

When we had first come in, the place was littered with so many weeds that I could barely make out plants. After about 45 minutes of weeding, I admired the green pepper plants, which stood tall and proud with no weeds suffocating them. Then I grimaced at the dirt in my fingernails. But I didn’t have much time to contemplate the damage—there was more work to be done.

Compost and a Dollar-Store Poncho

We joined another group to help clear out a field that had been used to grow garlic. The garlic had just been harvested and sold, so it was time to prepare the soil for a new crop. As the rain beat down on us, we were introduced to two beautiful things: gloves and a dollar-store rain poncho.

Our new job was to rake the weeds and haul them in a wheelbarrow to the compost heap, where they would be made into a natural, chemical-free fertilizer. The fertilizer provides the soil in the farm with nutrients that it needs to help the plants grow.

When the first wheelbarrow was full, I volunteered to push it, happy to get out of the mud. However, just like weeding, that was harder than I thought.

I only had to push the overflowing wheelbarrow a few feet, but I found myself wobbling and praying that nothing would fall out. After getting to the compost heap, I tried pushing out the weeds into a huge pile. This required several more minutes of struggling. I finally emptied it and returned to rake more weeds.

A Strawberry Convert

When the drizzle turned into a real downpour, we gathered inside the community center next to the farm. I was extremely happy to get out of the dirt and wash my hands. As we tried to dry off, we traded stories about what we had done on the farm.

NYC writer Param told me she was surprised that the farm interns were “getting down and dirty with Mother Nature.” I agreed, wondering how they could get so used to being in the dirt.

NYC writer Mohammed, who thought he hated strawberries, described how he felt when he tried one on the farm. “I plucked it, wiped off the dirt, and plunged it into my mouth. The first thing I noticed was how fresh and juicy it was,” he said. He was a strawberry convert.

One of the farm interns, Sharnay Procope, 15, joined the conversation, saying that the taste of a freshly picked strawberry made her feel like “a whole other taste bud just came out of nowhere.” Their descriptions made me wish that I had tried some.

Perks of the Job

Suzy, another NYC writer, summed up what most of us felt: “Aside from the fact that it was raining the entire day, working in the garden was fun and exciting.” I had to agree, though I mourned my nails, which were still brown from the dirt.

Whether we enjoyed the experience or not, everyone thought it had been a great opportunity. “I am not a fan of dirt and I don’t like being filthy,” said Chantal. She was miserable, but said she learned to appreciate how much work it takes to farm.

The farm interns weren’t fazed by the rain, and told us that there was much to gain from working there. “I realized it’s not just for the money,” Cameal explained as we sat around discussing the day’s adventures. “It’s to make your community a better place, and keep kids off the streets.” She described how people passing by the farm often stopped to ask what she was doing.

The interns also said that growing their own food made them eat healthier. Musheerah McCray, 15, said that her family now comes to East New York Farms! Farmers Market to buy the produce she grew.

Exploring the Market

After we left, I decided that I would come back and visit the market that Saturday. (The strawberries might have been an influence.) The rest of the week, I thought about what the farmers market would be like. I wondered if it would be huge and hectic. I imagined enormous crowds and gourmet cooking demonstrations.

When I arrived at the market that Saturday with my father, I realized my imagination had caught the best of me. There were people there, but not masses. The market took up half the street. There were about five tents that sold fruits and vegetables from the farm, while other tents sold cookies, cakes, vitamins, and clothes. Two other tents were offering food stamp screenings.

Even though the market wasn’t as big or busy as I had thought, it was lively and people looked happy to be there. Two kids were eagerly setting up their own tent. “Come on! If we’re fast we can help sell some fruit!” one of them said, excited to be taking part in the market. Meanwhile, the delicious aroma of fish with rice, spinach, and tomatoes wafted out of a tent where a lady was showing customers how they might prepare the fresh fish and vegetables being sold there. Music from a radio filled the air.

Sampling the Wares

After looking around for a while, I bought a box of the famed East New York strawberries for $4.50. “They’re the best,” the vendor said as he handed them to me.

I was amazed to see that they looked like the strawberries that I had always seen on TV—huge, plump, and vibrantly red—not like the ones I buy at the supermarket, old-looking and unappealing. And the vendor was right about the taste. I had never tasted such sweet strawberries in my life.

As my father and I left the market, I marveled again at the thought that we had lived here for nine years but had no idea that there were committed kids farming just around the corner.

Though farming isn’t my thing, I must admit that the farm is a great inspiration for my neighborhood. Since my visit there, I’ve found myself deciding on fruits instead of candy and chips. The farm and the market promote healthy eating and students getting active in their neighborhood. If more people knew about local gardens like this one, maybe our society would be a lot healthier.

The East New York Farms! Farmers Market, at New Lots Ave. and Schenck Ave., is open every Saturday from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m. through November 14. To find out more, go to eastnewyorkfarms.org. For a partial list of farmers markets throughout the five boroughs, turn to p. 9.

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