11 Apr - A lentil, a lentil, a lentil, a stone, a lentil, a stone.

 

In the name of Allah, Most gracious the Most merciful.

11 April 2014.

Where are the times that we sat at our mothers’ tables and while describing our day at school, we would help with sorting out the stones from the lentils, painstakingly patient, one by one. My Mom would empty the packet of brown lentils in a heap and from both sides we would attack the heap and push it with the side of our hand into a bowl. The habit stays with me till today but it does seem that factories or whoever packs them are more careful lately because the other day I only found 3 smallish stones in the lentil packet.

growing lentils

Some 20 years ago I worked at an organisation called the National Language Project, I was hired as production manager for a quarterly magazine called Bua! In Southern Sotho and Tswana the word Bua! means speak and was used around the country at rallies and meetings to mean: let it be heard, say it out loud, speak out!

Well, my colleague, Gerda and I were tasked to conceptualise the magazine, then meet with the Editor, to refine it and allocate tasks that would lead to publication. Sometimes Gerda would be the issue editor and sometimes the sub-editor.  My job was writing smallish conference notices and such but mainly to chase up the text, meet with layout and design artist, hire photographers, do photo research, meet with cover artist, get the ISBN number and fight with printers. Those were the days when we received a mock up from our design guy, took the files to a repro house where positives were made and then with mock and posies in hand, off to the printers.

Gerda would come up with the most exciting places where we could think creatively and put pen to paper and conceptualize. Sometimes we would take an early morning swim at the quiet Observatory baths or sit on the hill on the Block house, anywhere besides the office. This was all a highly kept secret until the day we came back from the baths. I wound my scarf a bit too tight so the damp marks shone through and our eyes were bloodshot from the water.

One Friday she offered to fetch me after mosque and we would have lunch at a quaint little restaurant/café called Lameez in Woodstock to work on the concept. I would usually jump into a taxi at 12.15 to go either to Muir street mosque, Claremont Main road or to UCT depending on how much time I had. So after Jumuah, we sat at Lameez eating the best vegetarian curry and soft warm water roti I had ever had. Lameez was a vibrant older woman with reddish hair with a hint of silver in her middle path, wearing a Salwar kameez and cerise scarf flung over her shoulders. She served us with finesse and generous helpings. As I savoured every mouthful I tried to register all of the ingredients and vegetables and gave no hoot to concept at all. The following day I tried to the best of my ability to mimic Lameez's curry and to this day, this curry has become such a mainstay in my home that I have to share it with you all, shukran Gerda and Lameez.

Vegetarian curry
Sort out two cups of brown lentils one by one (just kidding) and parboil until the lentils are soft but not mushy, rinsing it from time to time.

Make a curry base with braised onion, garlic and ginger, tomato, turmeric, fine cumin, coriander, red masala.

Add to it the cooked lentils with some of the water and a bay leaf and allow to simmer on medium until the lentils and sauce meld together.

Remove the bay leaf and add a medley of your favourite vegetables, first the ones that will cook longer such as green beans, potatoes, butternut, broad beans, and chunks of carrots.

Allow to cook for about 10 minutes. Then add the softer vegetables such as butternut or pumpkin blocks, disks of zucchini, some cauliflower and then finally eggplant wedges and broccoli.

Throw in some handfuls of curry leaves (so as not cook away the aroma) and salt to taste. When all is soft and well, turn down the heat and make some quick rotis.

Hot water roti (fast tracked)

·         3 cups of cake flour

·         Level teaspoon of salt

·         1 ½ cups of boiling water.

1. In a processor place the flour and salt and allow a dry spin of a few pulses to aerate the flour.
2. Then add all of the boiling water and mix until the dough starts to clump around the blade. Open and feel if it is soft.
3. Remove and place under plastic bag and wait for it to cool off a bit.
4. Work the dough by pressing thumbs into it as you push, bringing it round and working through again and again in order to create layers within it,  until the dough is completely smooth and starts to bubble.
5. Set aside while you heat up a non-stick (pref) roti pan.
6. Make balls and roll out thinly to the size of a medium plate.
7. Toss onto hot pan and with a paddle, flip it over a few times as it makes huge air bubbles. When it is brown enough, remove and on with the next one.

Try not to add any oils or butter, although it may be your practice, it’s healthier this way. And voila vegetarian curry with hot roti’s, enjoy. Jumuah Mubarak!!

Grow food and make great curries.

Yasmine

9 Apr - its the time of the season

 

In the name of Allah, who created the heavens and the earth and everything in between, the Most gracious, the Most merciful.

 

9 April 2014.

Yesterday we too had our “cricket” moment, this worldwide phenomenon, apparently. As we were having supper under the canopy, we heard a tap on the tarpaulin every so often. A few crickets were hopping around but hey!, we’re on a small holding with lots of hiding space for crickets (and other interesting bugs) and fresh stacks of manure. At about 9.00 pm we were outside, again with more rows of strawberries, when my friend screeched and dusted a few crickets off her legs. I looked down instinctively and what do you know?, there were a few on my feet as well. I tried to look blasé, and dusted them off lightly with a: “these little bugs?”, but inside I was feeling quite squeamish and I wanted to stomp on them before they crawled up my leg.

The thing about organic gardening is that it goes so perfectly with good cooking, you kind of wander around the patches and pots, break off little twigs here, some leaves there and inhale deeply and a dish is conjured up. Since Sunday, we have had all kinds of no fuss lunch and supper. Some left over leg of lamb - cubed and made into a salad with fresh breads; sausage and a baked bean braise and left over sausage sliced on an angle and fried in a thick bread batter (my Dad called it sosuis chappaties).

Early morning - a quick reconnaissance of the garden, watering, checking how plants are doing after transplanting, a quick tidy up and a quick breakfast. And then it’s tapping the keyboard, working on prep for our first class after the vacation and workshops to motivate matriculants. All day now I am in the process of copying a text into word from a PDF and its painstaking work. If I am able to do this it will be half the pages to copy and the text will be clearer. Most of the words copy exactly as it should and the rest - some slashes and dashes and swear words. So it’s working between documents and sometimes I think that retyping it would have been quicker. On top of that the charger of my laptop is stroppy- switching itself on and off, as it pleases.

jeera en koljana

 

The moment I completed the work I had this overwhelming desire to cook a lekker heartwarming pot of food. I mean really take my time, no short cuts. Hmmm maybe some Akhni? So I rummaged through the freezer to find some meat (maybe a kilo, maybe less). While it was defrosting I par-cooked two and a bit cups of basmati rice and strained it; toasted some cumin and coriander seeds and ground them; cleaned some fresh ginger and garlic and then I cut 3 onions into thin rings.

I warmed a fairly big pot, some oil on the base, tossed in a few sticks of cinnamon, cardamom and 5 cloves and then fried the onions. By then the meat had thawed – I rinsed it and seasoned it with turmeric, jeera en koljana (cumin and coriander) and kokni masala (I only use Shaikhs). I rubbed it in the meat with the grated garlic and ginger. If I still had a mortar and pestle it would have been even better.  Placed the meat with spices into the pot and left it to cook, oh so slowly.

Enough time to go back and check if I had captured the text exactly as it was published.  As the meat softened I added a handful of fresh curry leaves and chopped up a huge tomato, courtesy of the garden and allowed it to cook through quickly then added pieces of potato and carrot and eggplant and allowed it to cook for maybe 10 more min. By that time, everyone had scooped out some meat and sauce when they thought I was not looking, just a taste. Ja right!  Just before I introduced the meat to the rice, I rinsed and snipped some danya leaves with the scissors right into the pot.

I layered the curry with basmati, dotted it generously with butter, sealed it with baking paper and put on the lid. I allowed the pot to continue on medium heat till I felt the lid was warm and minimized heat to low feeling quite chaffed with myself. As I was glancing through some paperwork, I got an unfamiliar smell. I raced to the kitchen and found the pot on top speed, lid trembling like a choo choo train. Immediately I took off the lid, I got a whiff of burn.

Like a woman possessed I pulled out another pot and transferred the food, thank goodness the scorch was just on the base. So I pushed in porcelain side plates down the sides and on the top of the Akani and simmered it to finish (porcelain absorbs any burn smells and tastes), warning everyone that if the gas flame blew out to ensure that the flame was not on high. Some plain yoghurt, garlic and danya; an onion and tomato sambal; and we had lift-off thank you Allah.

Oh before I forget not all the vegetables come from the garden – the tomato, rocket, brinjals danya and curry leaves. The rest is from Nefies.

Plant food and also support your local green grocer.

Yasmine

 

7 April 2014 - And the marigolds look lovely today

الرحمن الرحیم بسم الله

In the name of Allah, the Lord of mercy, the Giver of mercy.

 

7 April 2014 at about 4.45 am

I awake to the sound of water and sleepy voices reciting back lessons of the Qur’an. I listen for wind but the air is still and now and then a car passes. I decide to have a look at pictures taken so I switch on the computer and start tapping out words instead. I break to greet, pray and give thanks and a warm cup of Chai tea…

The short holiday has been filled with meetings in the garden; quality time with our children at home;  communicating with those abroad; developing materials for a new course; a day shared with the IPSA youth and steady planting progress-so the blog had to wait for a while. The IPSA students of Enrichment gathered here during the week for breakfast, braai-ing, making salads and learning about organic gardening or at least the potential of spaces.  Some took walks around the garden; some enjoyed Abu's pics of Madiba in the studio; some were busy with archery and a few beautiful voices rendered Nasheed.

I reflect on yesterday’s work and I am thankful to Allah SWT for health and strength. Pulling a very heavy 50 metre hose around to keep wet the soil is no joke. So my mind is playing events of the previous day backwards.

At about 9.00 last night.

There is a beautiful pallid slice of the moon hanging in the midnight blue sky. Abu and I are still busy transplanting strawberry plants right in the front side of the garden. Our son is connecting an outside light or we’d be fumbling in the dark. 90 plants so far and there are still loads to go. We need to thin out the plants because the runners are unable to take root – the plants have grown too dense. As I gently but firmly press the plants into the soil, I make duah and think about those who have left for Makkah and are busy circumambulating the tranquil Ka’bah.

Feeling quite satisfied, with a full days’ work I go into the house to put on the kettle when I realise that I missed a call by a few moments. So there I am standing, phone in hand, dialing 121. A monotonous woman’s voice is directing me to press 1 and then 1. It’s Doctor Ridwaan whom we met in December. An elegant yet humble young man brought by his fiancé Rukayat for us to meet- immediate rapport, common insights, warm conversation during a meal shared and an exchange of gifts. He is standing at the Ka’bah at that moment that I am planting strawberries, thinking about us, making duah for us, for the ummah, for friends and family. How amazing is that. And I hope that my ameens are accepted and that Allah invites us back.

About 2 o’clock in the afternoon

first tomatoes

Someone lays the table with white table cloth, stacks plates and serviettes and the old silver ice bucket filled with cutlery is brought out. My son is busy working with a mould for making bow handles while Abu is carving the meat and placing it on a serving platter. I feel lazy and recline on the couch but I am hungry and the aromas from the kitchen are tantalsing, so I help with dishing up. My daughter is making a salad but the lettuce is far too tiny to pick so she takes some basil, cherry tomato and blocks of cucumber and feta and covers it with olive oil and herbs.

We sit down to lunch and contemplate what to do when the day cools off a bit- it’s far too hot to work in the garden. We chop up some lemon grass to make ice tea and start to feel sleepy.

About 10 am

A close friend has come to visit and to collect forms for study. Sometimes the relaxing laid-back atmosphere in the backyard, warm tea and koeksisters can make one forget about other tasks, feeding and cleaning the house. As she leaves, there is a scramble by everyone to water the garden, making beds, a quick sweep of the rooms. Thank goodness I took out a leg of lamb the night before to defrost. I rinse and rub it with sea salt and ground pepper, stuff it with a bouquet of herbs from the garden and garlic while I warm a huge pot with a dash of olive oil. I scorch the rings of 3 large onions and the scorch and seal the leg until a rich brown and then turn it down to simmer. In the meantime I peel prepare potatoes, sweet potatoes and carrots and make some sweet saffron rice. And out to the garden again.

So the orange tree is put to barrel, watered and mulched and standing within sight as I look out of my bedroom window, (shukran to the Fields family). I found some pretty flower seeds and scatter them in places that I forget purposefully. I place lavender plants all over to attract the honey bees. Abu is forced to extend the strawberry patch as runners of new plants make their way into cracks and tall grass. The flax seeds that I scattered last week have started to green; small tomatoes make their appearance on bushes and a few beautiful caterpillars are munching the fig leaves. I am torn between removing them and waiting to see what kind of butterflies will emerge. I cannot wait for the veg final patches to be complete, so I plant the celery into spaces cleared out in the flowerbox.

We have run out of compost, having used nearly 4 cubes so far and decide to make our own. Abu and Basil have spent all of yesterday loading stable manure and making a huge pile against the vibracrete wall. Tomorrow it will be layered with straw, kitchen and garden waste in a boxed in corner; watered and allowed breathe. It will with Allah’s help turn into sweet compost as everything breaks down and we can dig it into soil and mulch around plants and trees.

This first autumn rains invite us to plant bulbs for the winter such as daffodils, ranunculi, 


Bougainvillea has blooms

my favourite sweet smelling freesias and the like. So no lovely daffodils that look lovely today yet but preparation of beds for all kinds of corms and bulbs wait for the weather to cool off a bit more. I have to exercise some patience. The bougainvillea is so content with its new station that it beautiful pink flowers appear.

 I will wait for May to plant tulips and have decided to plant it in containers. I did not know that tulips were actually growing wild in fields back in the day, some thousand years ago in Turkey from which it originates and not from Amsterdam. Cultivated tulips were celebrated in Turkish gardens as early as the 1500s. By law the sale of tulip bulbs were constricted to the capital.

It’s about 7.00 and the young ones are getting ready for school, they are slicing yesterday’s lamb for sandwiches. I feel a bit tired say salaams and I am curling up in bed again.

Till tomorrow or later or whenever.

 Plant food and don’t forget to mulch.

Yasmine

 



Front before

 And in progress

 

1 April 2014 -saffron and Shiuli

الرحمن الرحیم بسم الله

In the name of Allah most Gracious, most Merciful.

1 April 2014

As April is ushered in, I am thrilled with developments on the property. There are gardens with relaxing spaces for all kinds of weather, even when it rains-especially when it rains.  Allahu Akbar, we received some more clean seed from around the world - one crocus flower bulb from which its stamens are saffron! Should have planted it already in the first week of March, inshaAllah we will still put it in soil and ask Allah SWT to send the rain.

When people visit they look a bit like –“get outta here” – when we say that we started the vegetable garden about five weeks ago and the front garden just two weeks ago.  At the time when we moved in, we started planting salad vegetables in the flowerboxes the moment our boxes were unpacked.  We nurtured the strawberries and gathered plants and fruit trees and cuttings. But we really put spade to soil veryrecently. Of course by that time we had enough seedlings and had to buy compost and manure and topsoil to replace the scraped out areas filled with tar and small stones and pieces of cement and broken bricks remnants of building many moons ago.

Where ever we have lived before we made gardens, in all kinds of conditions - to leave behind for someone else to enjoy and take forward, sometimes to show our appreciation and most times because it is so lekker. When we lived in the Sudan, together with some students who studied with Abubakr, we tilled the soil and planted seeds from home. The soil in Sudan is like a dark brown mud, deposits courtesy of the Nile. It is this soil that the wind sweeps up and the fans whirl about and deposits in every possible place even in your nostrils.



Shiuli

After planting a garden in the desert that blossomed into lush bunches of spinach and radishes and basil and Namaqua daisies. After trimming lush hedges of magenta bougainvillea and discovering the sweet smelling Shiuli bush. After days and nights of cool lemongrass tea and hot conversation and intense nostalgia and new friendships, we decided to call it quits and return home. Home to South Africa where you can talk to the wall, have fairly uninterrupted electricity, dress up in thick coats and boots and take long walks on the flea market browsing for books and dangling earrings.

We came back to South Africa in the winter of 2006 and lived on the Greenside. Subhannallah , the best planting that we ever did. Greenside where the foxgloves stood two metres tall; strawberries that multiplied like rabbits; long walks down Jacaranda avenues; poppy fields, iris and wild garlic beds; bay leaf hedges at Shakespeare’s herb garden; drunken Loeries toppling off mulberry branches; jasmine and passion fruit creepers – I could go on and on.

Back to reality, my kids look out of the window early morning, there is just a hint of rain and they enquire – is it soup day? Yep, its soup day! My Dad loved having soup every day, for breakfast, lunch or supper. I love it on cold snuggle-up days and in the Ramadhan. Today I add some alphabet pasta, I saw some at a shop the other day. Talking about soup, I remember when we were in primary school in D6, I attended George Golding Primary. We’re talking in the 60s (the time of flower power and Op Art and lace up boots). At school during the winter months we would stand in line to get a cup of cocoa once a week and a bowl of soup, just bring your own mug. The soup was really bad, seriously, even worse than at hospitals. It may have started out as a good soup but someone chucked a whole lot of water in it. So now I take my time to cook a wholesome broth. I should really get a coal stove to match it.

As I look out into the sky expecting dark moody clouds, what do you know?  The sun has broken through and it seems like it’s going to be a brand new day. I have a lot of work to complete; tomorrow I expect guests and so I want everything sorted Insha’Allah. As I am busy, I yearn for something sweet and warm and thinks to make some hot cocoa or a pudding. Is it just me or does one think of comfort food when it’s cold? Not just food but puddings of all kinds- potato pudding and dried fruit preserve, sago and tapioca pudding with slivers of almonds on top. My favourite - bread and butter pudding with an apricot sauce.

 

Bread and butter pudding recipe

Ingredients

 

·         8 slices of buttered bread
·         1 litre and a cup of milk
·         1 cup of sugar
·         Pinch of salt
·         Vanilla pod or essence
·         3 sticks of cinnamon and 5 cardamom pods
·         8 jumbo eggs or a dozen smaller ones
·         Sultanas or seedless raisins
·         Almond slivers or coconut
·         2 Tablespoons of butter

Method

Cut off top end of slices of buttered bread

Stack the slices four per stack and cut bread into triangles.
Make balanced rows of bread in rectangular deep baking pan and set aside
Whisk eggs and sugar and add essence, then whisk in milk and a pinch of salt.
Cover the slices with milk mixture, with a fork pushing slices under the mixture until it’s good and soggy. Add the top ends that were cut off to the milk mixture as well.
Toss a handful of raisins or sultanas into mixture, as well as cinnamon and cardamom.
Generously grate nutmeg on the top.
Dot with butter and either slivers of almonds or handfuls of fine coconut.
Bake for 45 min or until golden brown at 350^o F. or 180 ^o C

For the Orange sauce

In a small bowl stir some hot water into smooth apricot jam little by little until it reaches the consistency that you prefer, with just a squirt or two of lemon juice pour over servings of the hot pudding, delectable!

Till next time plant food not lawn and make puddings!

Yasmine

 

 

 

30 March - Sunbirds and pomegranates

الرحمن الرحیم بسم الله

In the name of Allah, most gracious most merciful.

30 March.

Alhamdulillah, autumn is marching in with a bit of a chill and some rain but it’s still wonderful weather to be outside.  It’s delightful to be involved with organic gardens, with grooming youth as new leaders and training teachers with iLABS. Every day I see how this actually intertwines like facets of growth.

It was wonderful to meet with one of our students that was on our pilot IHYA course today, to see her development and confidence as she continues her studies in the Adult and Higher Education Department at the University of Cape Town. We work shopped a few teachers who wanted to continue studies in Education and she was the one who took the challenge and accepted the invitation from UCT. This year she will complete her Diploma and get her wings and continue inshaAllah with an Advanced Certificate in Adult Education. So proud!
 
Back on home ground, Sundays are lazy in the late afternoon after have-to-attend functions, marking scripts and picking up everyone. Then we can have a warm cup of tea under canopy. While packeting newly dried pomegranate seeds, Abubakr is busy with his new propagation tray: in ”youth speak” the new cloning device for plants. A rectangular plastic with a lid sommer bought at Osmans, holes the size of R5 coins have been drilled into it and a small fish tank pump with see-through pipe to encourage oxygen inserted inside. A weak solution of Seagrow in the water; some cuttings pushed through and in two weeks’ time it will sprout many roots, thank you Omer for your wonderful idea and assistance.

 In the distance a preacher is screaming and taxis that drive by have the beat on so loud my eardrums protest. One can only wonder what it feels like with that kind of sound vibrating through the seats. I breathe in deeply and stand to look on proudly at how the garden starts to actually look like a garden.  Stone benches standing solidly next to the bougainvillea, a small table close by made of odd bits of wood, a bit distressed but so charming: the handy work of Rameez, the man of many talents.

The trick of an organic farm is to be in action, being busy consistently every day: weeding, staking, tying, watering and mulching (a wonderful analogy for what we like to do and for life itself). The rush for last minute seeding before winter and making new planting beds. Trimming and deadheading summer flowers and of course finding the right spot to plant new strawberry plants. So the mounds are prepared, the potatoes are allowed to create living seed and finally yes, the lemon tree and orange tree will be planted in the barrels maybe tomorrow. I have to think of some protection for them though, because I believe it does not like too much wind but has to be planted in full sun and in rich soil. So I thought to hit in some stakes around them and tie some hessian around like a blanket. Seriously, if the horses (and there are many elegant ones strutting around in Schaapkraal) can walk around with jackets, who says citrus trees may not have blankets?

 The thing about the garden is that it is full of surprises every day. The quince has new growth and the pomegranate is about to open many blossoms. I also realise now that basil is called reygaan in Arabic, makes sense? All the Reygaanah’s that I know have their feet firmly in the ground.  Working in the beds, I get used to wild sparrows fly so low over one’s head. I wish that we had hummingbirds in South Africa to attract to our gardens. Apparently we don’t have hummingbirds but we do have sunbirds, small and beautiful but not as acrobatic. They hover but cannot do it backwards. Insha’Allah nothing happens without the permission of the Almighty, I must plant some red sunbird bush and other nectar producing flowers like firecrackers to lure sunbirds.



Sunbird

Hummingbird

 





Suddenly, the call of the Muathin resounds splendidly and reminds of Allah’s due, so I suspend writing and we decide to throw down mats right here in the fresh air, the sky an endless dome. There is no better refresher than running cold water over you’re the limbs. Later.
And I’m back and I am thinking of weeds. Firstly, I have always had a bad attitude towards them, pulling them out where ever I find them, getting frustrated at their competitiveness with our plants and their ability to disguise themselves so amazingly. Until one day, about 15 years, when we bought a smallholding not too far from here, a friend remarked that the stinging nettle growing in patches were a good indication of the fertility in the soil and that it would be good ground to plant in. We should just hoe them into the ground and they would enrich the soil with iron. What?

Then I started my research and till today I have a very healthy respect for them, the weeds I mean. Actually stinging nettle (the ones who stings our legs and itches for a long time) is dried and used in tea to inhibit cancer. Other weeds that accumulate nutrients and minerals are dandelion, yarrow, wild daisies, fat hen, thistles, sorrel and many many more. When you do pull them out throw them on the compost heap and it will in turn enrich the soil again. So it takes all kinds to make the world go round!

Have a wonderful week those of you who are vacation and those who are at work. Where ever you are happy gardening.

Yasmine

 

 

 

25 March - Imagine

الرحمن الرحیم بسم الله

In the name of Allah most Gracious, most Merciful.

25 March - Imagine

Imagine a madrassah where the needs of learners are considered first; where parents and teachers collaborate and support learners. Imagine a madrassah where learners receive a holistic education: their relationship with Allah, their social learning and their relationship with the natural environment. Imagine a madrassah that offers a safe environment where the learner enjoys learning, exploring and whose curiosity is attended to. Imagine a madrassah where teachers are valued and paid salaries commensurate to the effort and hours they dedicate. Imagine a madrassah that does not have to rely on fees from parents nor donors with agendas, that is completely self-sustaining. Imagine a madrassah teacher who is constantly touching base with what’s new in teaching, in the community and in the world and feeds it into her classroom. Imagine a madrassah teacher who practices what she teaches, is humble and sensitive to the needs of all others around her and has a sense of humour. Imagine a madrassah where learners eat wholesome food and “spookies” snacks are banned. Imagine that.

The Initiative that I am a part of is called Learning Across Borders (iLABS). A group of people who have come together with a common vision of learning and teaching; parenting; a way of living; sharing resources and good conversation that translates into action. One of the initiatives was to nominate a school in Rondevlei and a school in Manenberg to Greenpop who plant trees at learning institutions. They planted 30 trees at Hydepark last week. Well done, Greenpop you’re doing wonderful work alhamdulilaah!

iLABS is involved in teacher training, matric support, initiating and supporting organic food gardens, strategic relationships with others; youth and leadership training and a host of other things. Why am I explaining all of this? So I can show gratitude for all of the open-hearted-handedness from the iLABS team for the sake of growth of this initiative.  So I would like to say Shukran Kathir, may you never want for provision in this world or the next inshaAllah.

That said, it is a perfect day for gardening once all the other work is out of the way. Marking essays, developing materials and other important but boring work. The rain has activated a refresh button and the soil is nourished with water. Fences have to be erected and grass cut. New planting beds have to be completed. In fact a little faux pax, I planted the runner beans on the wigwam without realising that the tomatoes will be denied the sun for ripening. So a scramble to knock fencing on wattle stakes and a transplant, silly Yasmine! What is gardening but also to learn from one’s mistakes?

 

A pot of soup is simmering for lunch time warming our senses, there is nothing like a pot of vegetable soup with carrots, turnips, leeks, celery and parsley (from the garden) a clove of garlic, split peas, barley and cuttings from the neck of lamb. Toss in a few allspice and cloves and voila!

 

 

 
The parsley seeds I planted last week are popping out and so are the black-eyed Susie. Lavender cuttings are taking well and red onions seedlings are almost ready to be planted, kwaai Abubakr! Alas, we are running out of planting beds. So we are practicing what we preach. The garden areas will also be utilised to plant potatoes in ditches, mounds with strawberries and onion companions. I know for a fact that strawberries grow well with onions and garlic. I am not so sure about the potato ditches so I guess we will leave a bit of a gap between them.

As I write this blog I refer to myself and this garden, but none of this is possible without others working in the trenches with me such as my Abubakr, Uncle Basil, Waseemah, Madeneya, Rameez, Nadia, Omer, Luqmaan, forgive me if I forgot someone. And Zaheer who patiently takes the photos and Azrah who gives us advice and is good for our morale but hates dirt under her nails. I cannot begin to mention all of the structural support of manure and beams and shade cloth and plants and cuttings and seeds and trees and containers. Shukran to those too who like this blog and send me emails of support. May Allah SWT afford me the creativity and words and energy to do this blog justice so that others can benefit from it too.

Don’t forget to eat organic and plant organic.
Fare thee well, till tomorrow.

Yasmine

 

https://www.facebook.com/ilearningacrossborders

 

Wigwams

 





 

 

 

 

 

24 Mar Suurings and Tameletjies

الرحمن الرحیم بسم الله

In the name of Allah, most gracious most merciful.

24 March.





Sorrel

 Today breakfast is enjoyed under the canopy. We are surrounded by plants and cuttings and the smell of buchu is quite heady. There is a soft patter of rain and the air smells like rich soil. Early sparrows are scratching in the grass. Now and then as the rain eases up a bit, I dash around the garden beds checking to see how the plants are doing, trying to guide peas up the wigwams. I really should get some galoshes and a dry mac. And to my amazement there are two blossoms on the quince tree!

As a child of District Six we grew up more in tune with the seasons. When the daisies popped up in the veld, we knew that winter was over and spring had arrived with daisy chains, and suurings (sorrel blossoms) and blossoms on peach trees. We’d rummage around the veld under pine trees to pick up pine kernels. After gathering them in the hem our dresses, we would sit on a huge slate rock and chop them open. If we had enough we’d keep the rest for tameletjies.

Tamelêtjies

·         250g g pine kernels

·         2 cups of sugar

·         1 cup of water

·         Diced glazed ginger

Combine everything in saucepan and bring to boil, immediately bring heat down to medium whilst constantly stirring. As it starts becoming really sticky and changes colour to a light brown stir in kernels and finely diced glazed ginger. Immediately spoon into cookie cups and allow hardening before eating.

Agapanthus and cannas

On the slopes of Devils Peak, in the Dry Dock area, everyone had gardens. Fig trees, guava and loquat trees graced the backyards of many. Our neighbours would throw ripe figs over the wall for us, when we looked over longingly. Flowers were in abundance –malva, cannas, agapanthus, hydrangeas of all colours, Cape May bushes and the eternal intertwining of the honeysuckles, morning glories and rambling roses. Aah, a magical childhood interrupted… by the Forced Removals.

When we moved to the Cape Flats, I used to help my Mom plant gladioli bulbs and put it carnation cuttings. She really enjoyed the garden and of course her indoor plants such as fancy leaf, mother in laws tongue, hen and chicken and ferns. I must confess I am not the indoor plant kind of person. But once I saw hen and chicken plants grown all along a wall as a ground cover the full potential of the plant really took my breath away.

My uncle also nurtured a love for the environment. He had a small holding in Kuils River, with horses, sheep, chickens and pigeons. In the holidays, we would have the time of our lives helping with planting alfalfa, watching the calving and trying to help with the stables. Later, he established a nursery and came to visit with fruit trees of all kinds. Just before he passed on, he told his wife to come a bit closer he had a few things that he wanted to say to her.

Firstly, he said, “my plants always do better than yours because you never water well right down to the roots. Secondly, let me inform you where I planted the water melon seeds so you know where they will come up. And thirdly, please do not neglect your recital of the Qur’an, for it is only with His permission that everything we do has so much barakah.” When he passed they had forgotten the mesang and instead just pushed a long piece of branch to mark his grave. So apt I say.

The garden is also a very calming space. Some would say it is the giving of water, nutrition, and attention while others may say it is actually the feel of the soil through ones fingers and the colour of green that surrounds you. I say it’s all of the above and more. For me it is also a deeply spiritual space. In nature Allah’s presence is stark.

I deeply respect the life of farmers. Their dependence on Allah for a crop to be successful, their prayers for rain, their prayers for good weather. I mean what does a farmer really want,  but a good crop that gives her a hard - worked - for income, some vehicles and machinery, clean seed, a place to pray and give thanks and a stoep to watch the sun rise. When one looks at all of the texts, the prophets were all either herders or farmers at one stage of their lives or another. I watched the Umar series and his assessment of a camel herder is thought provoking. He turns to his brother and says something to this effect,” the herder knows every camel very well because they are all unique. It is the uniqueness of them all that makes them an outstanding herd.”

 I heard an interesting khutbah once and the lecture was about spaces where humanity has over cropped, over stripped the forests and turned it into barren land. The solution according to the lecture was to keep out human beings and send in the animals. The hooves of the wildebeest till the soil and their droppings enrich the earth. The rain waters the soil and in a few years the land is arable once more. Subghaanallah.

So today Alhamdulilaah, Allah sent Rahmah -the rain and mercy. No watering for me. While Abubakr is busy replanting papyrus, I could trim the celery plants and prepare to make a pot of soup for tomorrow. Just a pity the turnips are a bit too small.

Plant clean seed and be careful on the wet roads.

Yasmine