Feeding "greens"
to Colombo's populace
By
Naomi Gunasekara
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Working
on gotukola-bed Pix by Athula Devapriya
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Twenty-five-year-old Ranga Aththnayake is one of the many farmers
who grow green leaves or "pala" on a small plot of land
with hopes for a better future. Working on a sarana bed half-covered
with tiny plants, Aththanayake, like most folk from the Polgasowita-Indurugoda
area squatted on the ground to tie bundles of fresh leaves as the
last rays of the evening sun disappeared.
Having
started his keera kotuwa in January this year, Aththanayake works
on a land belonging to another. The plot has been rented to Aththanayake
for Rs. 1,500 a month and he grows almost every variety of leaves
from kathurumurunga to gotukola. There are some 40 acres in this
region in which greens are grown.
Surrounded
by bundles of neatly tied sarana, his hands hurriedly plucked the
leaves to finish the last bundles. "I want to finish as much
I can before dark," he said, asking his mother if she could
tie more bundles. As darkness fell, his scarlet T-shirt made him
look darker and mature. Rough life at the leaf-beds have made him
harder and stronger. "We grow everything from gotukola to kathurumurunga,
sarana, thampala and mukunuwenna. But selling is the most difficult
task."
The leaves
perish easily and there is competition from the 5,000-6,000 families
who depend on the income generated by these leaf-beds. "If
the leaves are not plucked at the correct time they mature and it
becomes difficult to sell," explains Aththanayake. Leaves like
sarana has to be sold within 21 days of planting, because, once
the buds start appearing they lose their market value. Gotukola,
on the other hand, has to leave the keera kotuwas within 24 days
from the date of growth. "Otherwise, we can't sell them because
green leaves are a perishable product that has to reach the market
fresh and clean."
If the leaves
are not sold before maturity, the growers have to destroy them because
they become market unworthy. "Now that bed is a waste,"
said a disappointed Aththanayake pointing at a block of land full
of bottle-green gotukola. "I couldn't sell the crop on time
because the mudhalali didn't come. There is no use of that now.
I have to destroy it and plant it afresh."
Middleman
Polgasowita,
about 15 km south of Colombo, has rows of rows of green leaves.
The area from Polgasowita to Bandaragama, about eight to 12 km,
is covered with "greens" - much of which goes to most
of the markets in Colombo including supermarkets and many districts
outside Colombo.
Everything
about the business depends on the wholesale mudalalis who pay routine
visits to these keera kotuwas in the area. If they do not make their
routine trips the 5,000-6,000 families whose sole income comes from
these leaf-beds are left high and dry. "You can never sell
the crop from your plot all by yourself. The crop has to be transported
to different areas."
The eldest
of a family of three brothers, Aththanayake had given up his A/L
education halfway to support his family. Today, his two younger
brothers too work on the fields day and night to keep home fires
burning. Their day starts as early as 5 am at times. "We take
a two-hour break when the sun is bright and warm and start work
for the evening around 2 and go on till 7."
Sitting in
one position to remove weeds, pluck the leaves and attend to the
beds, these farmers face numerous problems in working on their fields.
"This is my hope for a better tomorrow," says Aththanayake
as we move onto another bed. But whether that prosperous tomorrow
becomes closer with each new day becomes hard to tell because his
gotukola beds are getting destroyed gradually. "It is an unidentified
disease. Officials from Gannoruwa visited us and suggested an insecticide.
But it is too expensive," he said.
Water problem
Passing
cadjan-roofed and dung-thatched houses we reach an open area that
is full of greenery. The soil is damp and two to three labourers
reap a kangkun harvest. White blossoms are visible in the midst
of the greenery and the kangkun is close to maturity.
Dressed in
a pair of shorts and supervising his labourers, P. Perera, owner
of the beds talks to us. "Water is the biggest problem we face.
We suffer when there is no rain and when there is too much rain.
Moderate rain is what is required for the growth of these plants,"
he says gingerly nipping the buds in a bundle of kangkun.
In addition
to the water-problem, Perera is seriously affected by the increasing
cost of production. A male labourer charges Rs. 200-250 a day while
a female is paid Rs. 125 to 150. "All prices are going up except
the price of a bundle of leaves bought from us. They are sold at
high prices in the market," he says accusing the middleman
of gaining all the benefits.
Exploited
Although most of the leaves that come to the market are produced
by the farmers in the Polgasowita area the growers complain that
their income is not steady. Despite a bundle of leaves being sold
at Rs. 12 or RS. 13 in the market, a bundle is bought from the growers
at one or two rupees.
Wholesale buyers
who are aware of the tricky position the farmers are placed when
the leaves are close to mature, exploit the situation. "We
come to a point where we just give up and sell everything for peanuts.
If we don't sell them so cheap, we are left with no money."
Despite the many difficulties they face these farmers cannot think
of alternative employment because generations have been in the business.
"We are not skilled in any other trade and find it difficult
to adapt to a different lifestyle. What we need is a reasonable
buying price for our crop."
Urea shortage
Another problem faced by these farmers is the shortage of urea.
During this season, these farmers use of lot of urea to cultivate
leaves and the urea shortage has compelled them to make their own
fertiliser. "Baur's is not releasing stocks because it is not
sure about the government's policy on fertiliser under the VAT Act.
We have to suffer as a result and spend money on making our own
fertiliser," says K. D. Dharmawardena, who has been in the
business for well over 25 years and feels that there is no substitute
to the brand of urea he uses. "Others turn the leaves yellow,"
he says.
Dharmawardena
has built his house and supported a family of nine with the income
generated from his two-acre leaf-bed. Sipping a cup of plain-tea
from a chocolate-coloured cracked mug, he relates his past success
story and compares it with the present. Although the same extent
of land is being used for cultivation today, high production costs
have left the farmers with meagre incomes. Despite buyers from all
over the country flocking into the keera kotuwas in the area, growers
find it difficult to make ends meet. "This was a thriving business
at one time but we hardly recover costs today. We are too old to
switch on to something new," lamented Dharmawardena as we left
a village struggling for prosperity.
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