My Year of Hell

13 September 2010

Well that's what it feels like anyway.

This year has essentially been a year of hard slog. There's been no progress, just frantic scrabbling to try stop us sliding backwards. Endless amount of money has been sucked into a black hole as we desperately try to repair and maintain and...and... And well it's all just too much really.

For both of us it has pushed us to the absolute limits mentally and physically.

There are times when I think my body is going to break. It screams and pinches and aches and it ceases up.

As for my mind, well a funny thing happened the other day; the library at work launched a new health resource directory. An email suggested staff take a look at its health calculator. Pick a subject, answer 10 or more questions and it calculates your risk.

I picked the 2 mental issues - stress and depression. My stress answers indicate I may or may not have a stress-related disorder. (I soooo have stress disorder!) My depression answers were another matter altogether. Apparently I have a major depressive disorder and should seek professional help.  "Ha ha-ha" I laughed. "Yeah whatever, what do you know?" I said and logged off. But then I started to think about it.

When did I last laugh? When did I last step foot outside my door and say "Damn, I love this lifestyle?" When did I last feel like I was living rather than existing? When did I last get through a day without wanting to just sit in a corner and cry?

We planned this year to be our hard slog year, during which time we would build up enough livestock to start a business. We've done all that but with disastrous consequences. A 6-month drought followed by I don't know how many months of rain has left us with nothing but mud. It's not just mud either; it's shin-deep, lose your gumboot mud. The pigs churn it up more and more and with each heavy rainfall that mud flows in great torrents down the hills and disappears into the stream.

We're losing land. We're watching truck loads of dirt washing away forever. It's an environmental nightmare, not to mention a huge financial loss as we pay to truck in what we've lost.

We now have fences that once touched the ground, hanging high enough in the air that the dogs can easily squeeze under.

On top of that we've lost so many animals. It's been a year of death. So many animals have died in tragic circumstances and we've then added to the mix by doing regular planned culls. Death is a constant companion it seems these days.

And the worst is yet to come.

We both hit a wall this month.

I arrived home on yet another rainy day to find Aaron slumped in the chair with a beer in his hand

“I can’t take this anymore”

And then a few days later I found myself sliding around in a pig paddock full of mud at 4am in the morning and I hurled the empty feed buckets across the driveway in exhausted frustration

“I can’t fucking do this any more! I can’t do it! I can’t do it! I can’t do it!” (Typical woman; it takes me at least 5 times as many words as a man to express myself.)

And so Aaron made a decision that I hadn’t even contemplated, that I feel desperately unhappy about, and yet I agreed to because I know it is the right thing to do.

We are ending the pig farming dream. The plan was to go into business this October but the plan has now changed.

The decision is to cull Mabel and Rose before the end of the year. Rose I am not terribly sad about as she is a bit of a grumpy girl, however I am going to struggle with Mabel. She is such a sweet pig but she is now about 6 years old and maybe only has 1 or 2 litters left in her.

She would not handle well a move to another farm and so we feel this is the only option. I don’t think I could eat her and in fact I know will struggle to eat Rose as well.

And then there are Emily and Olive. Such lovely girls. Originally destined to be porkers but saved at the end by our decision to expand.

I cannot and will not turn them into mince and sausages. And so we must find a home for them before the end of summer 2011. I know I shall miss them.

And so that leaves us with our original 4 breeders – Arthur, Joy, Phyllis and Stanley. 2 boars is too many but we are far too attached to these 4 to ever consider getting rid of them.

Perhaps Aaron might think differently. He tells me pigs are livestock not pets but that is only the way he thinks. As for me I consider the pigs on a par with the dogs. I love them all equally and if I could only choose to have one pet it would be a pig.

My expectation is that the remaining 4 will live long into their retirement here on the farm.

So now that the pig farming dream is over we are now returning to our pre-pig goal of becoming self-sustaining. Not completely of course but hopefully in food both for us and our livestock.

I got permission to reduce my job to part-time as of October and so I will be able to dedicate more of my time to developing the farm. The plan was that the pig business would replace the money I would no longer be earning but that has now changed. Now I will have to find other ways of replacing that money.

Health and Vitamins and the Global Food Trade

And so, for all this stress that we are under, the exhaustion, fatigue and mental struggles, I am incredibly healthy.

Amazingly (or perhaps not) I am not succumbing to viruses, infections or skin complaints.

The only issue is my weight. I finally have the slim body and toned figure I always wanted but it has come at a high price.

I am getting so much exercise on the farm this year that I am struggling to eat enough to replace what I am burning. I’ve had several people comment that I am losing weight, and although I don’t know if that’s true, I have noticed my waistbands getting looser and there are times when I can’t seem to eat enough to stop getting the shakes.

The muscles are getting a great work out but that too has had a cost. I ripped(?), tore(?), at the very least did some serious damage to my right shoulder while trying to scrubcut wet kikuyu at the start of May.

Straight away I noticed I experienced absolutely no discomfort if I took 2 x Omega 3 (sustainably fished of course) tablets per day. I can lift heavy things, carry heavy things and generally do the usual without a 2nd thought. As soon as I stop taking them it is like I have reinjured my shoulder. How bizarre is that?

I also started taking Vitamin C, B, D, E and Zinc.

For the first couple of months it seemed that not much changed but 4 months later and the dermatitis has all but gone. Only the bridge of my nose continues to be a problem area.

The wedding ring is finally back on but I am still nervous about putting the engagement ring on as the speed bumps soldered onto it stop it moving freely.

I’ve had no stress acne breakouts since May and my immune system appears to be in top form.

I feel healthy and I am convinced the vitamins are playing a vital role.

This last 12 months really has been one of intense research and knowledge gathering from books, DVDs, magazine articles and conversation. We now know some incredibly fascinating and scary things about food, health, organics, biodynamics and peak oil.

The Cult of Aaron and Lisa is alive and well and now more than just a little obsessive.

We now can’t eat anything without religiously checking the packets for ingredients. And judging by this last weekend, we’re now the party guests that friends might think twice about inviting.

We just can’t (and won’t) pop any old thing into our mouths now.

Is it sustainable? Is it organic? Is it Fair Trade? What implications does my eating this have on human and/or animal welfare?

We both looked at the party guest’s packet of prawn cutlets and then looked at each other
“What do you reckon?”
“Thailand. You just know that they’re from Thailand”
“What?! What does that mean? What’s wrong with them???” the party guest looked slightly horrified
“Uh..err…um, don’t worry, just eat your prawns and don’t worry about it.”
“No. What?! What’s wrong with my prawns?”
“Well probably nothing. They’re probably fine. They’re probably not from Thailand.”
The party guest turns the box around and around looking for the country of origin. She hands it to Aaron and he looks
“Product of Thailand” he puts the packet down.
“You have to tell me”
“You don’t want to know”
“Yes I do”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes”
“Prawns farmed domestically in Third World regions of Asia are responsible for the mass destruction of mangrove swamps. Poor prawn farmers create artificial ponds where mangroves once were and then to keep the prawns alive long enough to get to a saleable size they pump the water with a highly toxic cocktail of chemicals, growth hormones, antibiotics, pesticides, fungicides, etc. You’re not eating a prawn, you’re eating a chemical time bomb”.

Other guests eye us suspiciously and we know thwy're thinking "Are they for real?"

We end the conversation and the prawns get eaten.

It’s a good thing no one wanted coffee while we were there. I now know that every time someone drinks non-FairTrade coffee they perpetuate the poverty and financial hardship of a Third World family.

Nestle can easily make $30 per kilo for coffee but they frequently charge the grower to take it away. Apparently Nestle quite often decides it doesn’t make enough from coffee to justify paying the farmers.

And then there’s Soy Milk. For years I have slugged it back, smug in the knowledge that I am doing something good for my health.

Until now.

Soy milk is apparently a hormone disruptor. It has large amounts of plant-based oestrogen in it, which has been found to lead to premature sexual maturity in children.

I’m not a child so why would that be an issue for me?

It’s an issue because I started going through menopause at 37. I have no proof that soy milk played a part in this but I’ve read enough about it now to go cold turkey.

I’m gutted of course. I love my Vanilla Soy Milk. I’m on oat milk now. It’s not exactly great stuff but the ingredients label is basic and until I read how dangerous oat milk is I’m guessing I’ll probably end up sticking with it.