Cultivating communities   (Page 1 of 2)

How community gardens are growing on Toronto’s public housing projects

By Clifton Joseph with photography by David Trattles

Community residents distribute the fruit of their labour at the Firgrove Crescent public housing development (Photo: David Trattles)

Just south of the intersection of Jane Street and Finch Avenue in northwest Toronto, nestled between a phalanx of skyscraping apartment towers, is the Firgrove Crescent public housing development, one of dozens operated by Toronto Community Housing. A concrete parking laneway between two 20-something-storey buildings serves as the northern entrance to Firgrove, which stands out as a pleasant pocket in an otherwise tough part of town. The Jane and Finch area is one of the most densely populated and diverse parts of Toronto, home to people from roughly 100 countries who speak more than 70 languages and dialects. Compared with the rest of the city, it has a higher rate of single parents, low-income families, unemployment and adults with less than a high school education. It also has a reputation for gangs and crime, a stigma that residents have been striving to overcome for years.

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Toronto’s Community gardens These gardens are feeding and uniting members of Toronto’s public housing communities (Map: Chris Brackley, Steven Fick/Canadian Geographic)

As I walk down the lane into the heart of Firgrove, however, the sounds and sights of summer fun in the summer sun abound all around. Six young men are vying to outdo one another in an energetic game of pickup hoops, the thumping bass of the basketball’s bounce competing with their boisterous banter and bravado. A nearby sprawling grassy field buzzes with a blur of younger children of all shades of black, brown, yellow and white, as does the adjacent outdoor pool. The neighbourhood features 380 housing units: one high-rise and several low-rise apartment buildings and a clutch of two-storey townhouses with nominal front yards — some with flower or vegetable patches, others with grass and dandelions — that are clustered around the pool.

Police officers aren’t an uncommon sight around here, although this afternoon they’re not looking for the usual suspects. An affable officer directs a stream of kids in and out of his vintage yellow cruiser, and three officers in blue shorts smile as they hand out police badges, baseball caps, balloons and T-shirts. Near the pool’s light blue reflective glow, a dozen or so other officers, most wearing ball caps and casual clothes, huddle around a halfbuilt shed. They are from the Toronto Police Service’s TAVIS unit. TAVIS stands for Toronto Anti-Violence Inter vention Strategy, which was established in the wake of the city’s murderous “Year of the Gun” in 2005. TAVIS officers have two sets of duties: rapid-response police work and participation in community initiatives. “We got a call that they needed help to build a shed to house their gardening tools,” says the sergeant in charge, taking a break from the mayhem of trying to decipher Ikea-style instructions. “So we responded.”

While some people might find it surprising to see police getting involved in a project such as this, others might be even more surprised to know that there’s a community garden in this neighbourhood. But there it is, a 3.5-by-7.5-metre patch of earth, divided into 14 plots and surrounded by a chain-link fence, sporting an impressive variety of vegetables, herbs and spices. And there are the three families that have emerged as the main custodians, watering and weeding and pruning and harvesting, with small piles of veggies growing near their feet.

Jamaican-born single mother Janet Young and her teenage daughter Andrene are working opposite ends of their plot. Andrene has gloves on and is pulling out weeds from around the tomatoes, while Janet is disentangling big leafy green vines from some of the other plants. “Steups!” she hisses, kissing her teeth. “I gotta tell you, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s never plant the zucchini next to the callaloo or the peppers, because it takes so much space that it overpowers anything else that’s too close to it. You’ve got to give the zucchini space!

“But my plot was very successful,” she continues. “I planted callaloo, zucchini, cabbage, chili peppers, Scotch bonnet peppers, tomatoes, thyme, collard greens, broccoli and onions. It’s fresh, all-natural organic stuff; no pesticides or anything like that. It tastes better than what you get at the supermarkets.”

The plot next to the Youngs’ blooming bed is brimming with hot chili peppers, eggplant, bitter melons, mint, okra and more. It belongs to Pakistani immigrants Qamar Sadiq and Muhammad Vaseer and their three daughters Javaria, Sadaf and Marriam.

“I always bring my daughters when I come here to work,” says Sadiq, “because I want them to know that they can grow some of their own foods.” Sadiq speaks quietly, with humility, but also with some glee, about her veggie bounty. “It’s not so much economics, because the batches are tiny, but the vegetables are so crisp and so tasty. I make mint chutney, I cook an eggplant dish that’s fried in chickpea flour and my husband makes his salsa every day with fresh chili.”

On the other side of the garden, sixtyish Jamaican/Indian couple Gloria and Ronald Tahal are tending to their sprawling zucchini plant. Gloria admits to being slow with her say-so from the get-go: “When they started digging up the land, I said to myself, ‘Why are they digging? Nothing’s going to grow here.’ But then we planted our crops, and I couldn’t believe it! Back in Jamaica, my grandfather had a garden and grew everything you see us growing here.”

Gloria’s comment brings a grin to the face of Judy Wallace, the local tenants’ representative-turned-community-gardenorganizer. “These families have worked very hard to make this garden what it has become,” says Wallace, standing amid a bed of callaloo leaves. “Look at all these vegetables.”

As if on cue, Janet Young approaches with a bowl of cooked callaloo that, except for the spices, was made entirely with ingredients from her garden. The dish is made by chopping and then sautéing callaloo, tomatoes, onions, garlic, thyme and Scotch bonnet peppers. It tastes sumptuous, and its flavour lingers as I walk toward Jane Street, with locals remaining outside in the fading evening light, talking and laughing and sharing recipes while hanging out in their garden.

The picture wasn’t always this rosy at Firgrove, with the garden going through much doom and gloom before its recent bloom. When planting began in 2010, residents were slow to respond. A dozen families eventually signed up, but only three came consistently. Wallace had to be convinced to oversee the project, and the funding that was promised arrived later than expected, which delayed access to supplies and the construction of a fence to protect the plants.

I had first learned about the garden — and about its thorny start — from Anan Lololi, the executive director of Toronto’s Afri-Can FoodBasket (AFB) program. The nonprofit community food-security organization was established in 1995 with a commitment to “meeting the nutrition, health and employment needs of members of the African-Canadian [and other communities], in particular, those who are economically and socially vulnerable.” Along with Toronto Community Housing, local businesses and the police, the AFB supported the Firgrove project. Lololi calls it “one of the most flourishing gardens” he has seen.

The AFB operates in high-risk neighbourhoods throughout the city, encouraging people to grow and eat healthy fruits and vegetables, with an emphasis on foods that are part of their ethnic heritage but can be expensive to buy. Since its start, the AFB has nurtured the growth of 26 community gardens and trained hundreds of gardeners, not only in pockets such as Firgrove but also in places like the Jamestown area, located farther west of Jane Street, and Lawrence Heights — two of the most troubled parts of the city.

In 2005, there were 80 murders in Toronto, 52 of which were committed with guns, many in the city’s public housing communities. The Ontario government dedicated $42.5 million over three years to support intervention programs in high-risk neigh - bourhoods in conjunction with other agencies, including the City of Toronto and the United Way. The AFB tapped into that funding, securing contracts to work in Jamestown, Lawrence Heights, Jane and Finch and elsewhere. And it used food to connect with young people in those neighbourhoods.