H  I  N  S  I  G  H  T

What’s in your Backyard?
by Amendra Pokhrel

Many people use the vacant lands around their homes as a flower garden, servant quarters or simply as a dump. Most, however, turn their backyards into ‘kareshabari’ or kitchen garden.

As our cities and towns get cramped, there is one more reason to worry about apart from the crowd, congestion and pollution. Vanishing backyards.

Just a few years ago, backyards were common to almost every house. As towns grow into cities and municipalities metamorphose into metropolises, backyards are increasingly becoming a luxury only few houses can afford. In Kathmandu, the backyards are on the verge of being wiped out, whereas in other developing Nepali towns like Dharan and Biratnagar they are vanishing rapidly. As the price skyrockets, lands are measured from every direction and split in such a way that every bit can be sold for a high price. Some people become rich, but shrinking space means many housewives, retired people and industrious men will be deprived of one of their favorite activities - backyard farming.

Binod Katwal, a resident of New Baneshwor, Kathmandu, is an accounts officer in a government agency and is currently deployed at Chitwan branch. But on Fridays and Saturdays, during his off time, one can see him digging and clearing the small field that forms the backyard of his house.

Seeing him work around in his kitchen garden like a suave farmer, it is hard to believe that Katwal holds a B.Com, B.Ed and a degree in Law. His love for farming sprouted back in the hills where he saw his parents and grandparents work their land. “I just put to practice what I learnt from them,” he said.

“The trees have to be planted on the fringes,” he told me as we stood surveying his backyard farm. “If they are planted in the middle, they will absorb all the nourishments leaving nothing for small crops like radish, spinach and cauliflower.” About weeding out unwanted plants that grow around crops he said, “If you let them grow, they too will suck nourishments, which would lead to wilting (yellowing of the leaves and stems) or poor growth or no growth at all.”

Katwal grows seasonal crops and vegetables like maize, pumpkin, chili, tomato, ladyfinger, cauliflower, cabbage, chayote (iskus), etc., depending on the seasons. The field also has fruit trees like litchi, pomegranate, guava and lime.

“The seeds for seasonal vegetables are easily available in any vegetable market,” he said. “They do not cost much.” He is, however, worried about the rising cost of fertilizer. He buys fertilizer from his neighbors who raise cows and buffaloes. “Earlier they used to charge Rs. 15 to 20 a sack. Nowadays they ask for 50,” Katwal said, shaking his head to show helplessness.

Katwal does not regard his toiling - sometimes he works in three shifts, from morning till evening - as hard grind. “I just love the smell of dung after it mixes with soil; it reminds me of my roots. Besides, it also helps me keep fit, keep my backyard clean and just pluck something off the garden when my wife and I forget to bring vegetables from the market.”

Some, on the other hand, have turned their vegetable garden into a mode of self-employment.

The land abutting Katwal’s backyard belongs to the Thapas. The three Thapa brothers have combined ownership of the land, but lack of employment has put the responsibility of cultivating the garden on Dinesh, the second of the Thapa brothers. His brothers, however, equally enjoy sweating it out on the field. On holidays, the three brothers can be seen working enthusiastically in their backyard. “Since it’s not like farming a big land, it certainly is easy,” says Dinesh. “But the plants demand the same patience and care, irrespective of the size of the land they are grown in.” You have to actually see Dinesh’s daily routine with your own eyes to understand what he means by patienceand care. Tilling the soil and getting the land ready for cultivation takes a few days of hard labor. Then, after planting the seeds and crops, he sits at one corner of his field to shoo away birds and cattle which would love to feast on them. Sometimes he also works continuously, sprinkling water, and uprooting weeds and grass from time to time.

In Biratnagar, I caught hold of a family notorious for having the most productive backyard garden in the entire neighborhood just a few years ago.

I was amazed when Punya Prasad Dahal, a 58-year-old retired government employee, gave me a virtually non-ending list of what all used to grow in his backyard. “Among fruits, we had litchi, several varieties of mangoes, jackfruit, pineapple, papaya, guava, berries, banana, lemon, coconut, amla and bael. Besides these, we grew seasonal vegetables like spinach, ladyfinger, cauliflower and others. We also had chili, onion, ginger and so on.”

I gawked at him in disbelief. Punya’s neighbors confirmed everything saying that they never returned empty handed whenever they visited his house. “We have never seen any household grow so many varieties of edible plants in all of Biratnagar till date,” said a neighbor. “It had something to do with the old lady of the house, Punya’s mother.” People in the neighborhood used to say: Aamai ko haat saarai malilo thiyo (Literally, her hands were very fertile).

“There was some kind of magic in her hands,” Punya’s wife said of her mother-in-law. “She just had to scratch the surface and plant something and the next thing you knew, the plant would have fully grown or turned into a healthy tree. Even with days of patient care and nursing we could not do what she could with utter casualness.”

Other members of the family confirmed this and, as if to justify their claims, said, “As the old lady started to grow feeble, the number of plants in our backyard decreased.” She would someday just walk around the house, leaning against walls or whoever was around for support, and shout at her daughters-in-law, “You have ruined my vegetable garden. You can’t even grow chili by yourselves, how will you take care of my large family?”

“She sometimes also used foul language just to sound patronizing and not mean anything harsh to us,” said the daughter-in-law coyly
It has been many years now since the old lady passed away. The combined family, including her two sons and their families, is now divided and the backyard has naturally shrunk. Many trees had to be felled to make room for the extended families. The families still have small backyards where they have some fruit trees and a patch where they grow seasonal vegetables. But these backyards, the neighbors said, can’t even be called a shadow of what used to be.

A similar sad fate is shared by many backyard farms belonging to other families and is, perhaps, something inescapable.

Those who grow vegetables in the backyard usually share their first yields with their neighbors. In quiescent towns like Biratnagar, backyard farms add to that long list of reasons why people pry at their neighbors’ homes. It is not unusual for an aunt, a sister or even uncles dropping in to praise your backyard farm. Before leaving, however, they invariably ask you for a bunch of spinach or a handful of beans to cook for their dinner.

“I never refuse anybody who comes asking for whatever is in my garden just as nobody refuses me,” said Punya’s wife. But she gets irritated at some neighbors who pluck off vegetables without asking. “Though, with backyard’s gradually vanishing, I think it is better to learn to put up with such friendly trespasses,” she said ruefully.

Amendra Pokhrel is a freelance writer and can be contacted at amendrapokharel@gmail.com