Benson of Muizenburg

Tell us a little about yourself. Where did you grow up, where do you live now, and anything else you'd like to share.

My journey into the world of urban farming has two segments, both set in an area of Cape Town called Mitchells Plain. For a working-class family in the early 70s, this predominantly coloured area meant two things: wide open spaces and a large garden.

My mom was a keen gardener with a love for roses. I was recruited at a young age to help with weeding. While I often preferred playing soccer with my friends, the time spent in the garden with my mom was very special.

Another aspect of having ample space was the ability to keep pets, and we had many. Besides the usual cats, dogs, and budgies, I ventured into the world of taxidermy. Glass jars and dead bird projects became a significant part of my upbringing.

How did you start growing?

As a parent to young children, another two segments served as drivers for me into the growing space. Wide open spaces (again) translated into a large garden located on an urban fringe in the South Peninsula, in Glencairn, where we lived.

Finding permanent employment in the development sector became increasingly difficult, which left me with an abundance of energy and time. Naturally, I soon ran out of space in the garden and redirected my efforts into guerrilla gardening.

Two significant paradigm shifts occurred for me. First, the skills and time spent with my kids became invaluable. I was very honored to have my 10-year-old son follow me daily as we pursued a homeschool program. He has since developed a deep love and respect for animals.

What are you most proud of in your growing?

Finding my niche in the growing space has been a very important journey for me.

The two segments to my work, have since become absolutely critical as I launch forward into the next phase of the growing space.

In terms of waste management, I have found that there are way too many obstacles for the Joe Soap and his family to join the movement towards a zero waste lifestyle.

I would be more proud of myself if these very many obstacles had been negotiated, while being able to sustain myself financially. This is a tightrope act that I need to master!

One other aspect of my work that I am super proud of is the diversity and inclusive intention. Currently, our volunteer team in Muizenberg is a beautiful diverse segment of humanity. This diversity is also represented in the fynbos inclusion into the edible aspect to the garden, where we have dune spinach and the more common type of spinach growing and existing side by side.

What is the most helpful piece of advice you received when you were just starting out?

I will approach the question slightly differently. I've seen some things, and in seeing them, I've got my answers and asked my questions.

The most important thing for me is spending time in the growing spaces with permaculture as my compass, I suppose. One of the by-products of coming out of that space is that one can become quite formulaic, quite judgmental about the best way to do things. That was one of the first things I encountered when meeting people who were growing and sustaining. Each one of them had some rules they had worked out for themselves. There's one thing that I now know has become important to me in answering this question: the difference between companion planting and intercropping. I found that the rule has always been that certain plants go together, and you do that. You companion them for a number of reasons, and that was my perspective for a long time.

Now that I am growing on a bigger scale, I'm realizing that to maximize the yield, intercropping is a different way of companion planting. So we've got marigolds planted among the vegetable patch, but we've also got spring onions dotted around with the spinach as they exist side by side.

What advice would you like to give to others who are younger/earlier on their journey?

The advice that I would give to a younger me, as I started out on my journey, is first to get a bookcase and fill it with relevant information from libraries and the internet, printed off the internet, that you can always go back to time after time as you venture out. It's useful to grow your own knowledge base and spend time away from the garden doing the research.

The second concept, which is linked to the first one, is the human library: hang out with people who are willing to share information and be intentional about it. Actually say it to someone who is further down the road than you.

There might even be a third option of popping into lunches and courses, because I really do think those workshops are useful. But to come back to my second point, it's important to gain, trade, and do the transaction of volunteering on a farm or a smallholding in exchange for getting knowledge. Take a notebook and actually sit down with the farmer, however busy she is. Make sure you come up with those questions and get them answered.

And practical stuff, not just written down, but actually doing it, because some of us learn by doing.

Why I Choose to Farm Inclusively

The question we need to answer today, on this glorious Friday morning before the impending storm, is a difficult one. The context is crucial, and I will outline it briefly. Inequalities persist in our country, and it seems these inequalities are being exploited rather than addressed by various stakeholders.

One irony I find particularly distressing is that our hospitals are overwhelmed with people in desperate need of healthcare, many from communities with vast tracts of land. These agrarian communities have lost their ability to sustain themselves, and this reality saddens me deeply. It also stirs something within me. Unfortunately, there are few heroes in this space, and I am reluctant to assume that role. Our community needs a person of color to transform available land into a productive farm, but currently, we lack such leadership.

A recent discussion with the founder of a project in Oceanview revealed a harsh truth: they will never again start or support a project in an under-resourced community where there is no ownership. This means that those who need the farm the most may never have access to it based on this narrative. I find this deeply troubling and rage against it.

I choose to farm inclusively and collectively on common land to facilitate change on two levels: helping people grow and helping them heal. While I am not particularly adept at healing, I know that a garden can create a conducive space for it. My ideal situation is a healthy bounty and a significant yield, coupled with a diverse team of people—racially and culturally mixed—working together.

In answering this question, I realise I need to position myself where I can achieve this goal. I need to create partnerships, build friendships, and place myself in environments where this vision can become a reality.