NOW &THEN #14: URBAN GARDEN

 Monday 8/3/2021

I Am No Gardener

Let me start with a disclaimer: I am no gardener. I’ve never had green fingers, not even a shade of it. I don’t enjoy planting anything. Growing up in my kampung in Bachok until I was twelve, I had more interest in climbing trees than tending to them. Then, the government of Malaysia hijacked me—yes, that’s the word I use—by sending me to a boarding school in Tanjung Malim, a full 24 hours away by train. That’s my background. So before I begin talking about Urban Gardening, you’ve been warned.

During my working days with the Public Works Department (JKR), I stayed in government quarters. The houses were large, both in structure and in land area. When I was transferred to Kuala Lumpur, I was given a government bungalow in Jalan U Thant. It was a spacious place—four bedrooms, a garage for two cars, and a half-acre of land surrounding it.

You’d think I would have taken up gardening then, with all that space. But no. I still wasn’t interested. My wife was busy chasing after our two young boys, and neither of us had time to think about plants, let alone plant anything.

That changed slightly after I resigned from JKR and we moved into our own house in Kuala Lumpur in 1984. The garden? A modest patch of just 100 square feet. That’s where our urban gardening journey began in 1985. To be honest, it wasn’t our garden—it was hers. My wife’s garden. My role? I took photos of the flowers when they bloomed. That was the extent of my involvement.

To get beautiful flowers, we’d make trips to Sungai Buloh to buy potted plants. Sometimes, my mother would contribute cuttings or flowers from her own garden back in Bachok. As my wife’s interest in gardening grew, so did the generosity of our friends and neighbours. They began giving her plants to nurture. Within a year, our little garden was thriving. It had life, colour, and fragrance—all thanks to her.

Our neighbour at the time, Abang Rashid, and his wife were wonderful people. He treated me like his younger brother and adored our youngest son like his own grandson. Whenever we went back to our kampung, he’d look after the house. He also shared flowers with my wife and fruits with our children from his own garden. That’s the kind of community spirit we were lucky to have.

When we eventually sold our house in Kuala Lumpur and moved to Bandar Baru Bangi, we took only a few potted plants with us. By then, we were older and didn’t have the energy for big gardening projects. Just enough to keep our front yard green and welcoming. To our delight, our new neighbours were equally active. They grew flowers along the roadside and even planted coconut and banana trees. It was beautiful to see greenery spilling out into public spaces, maintained with love.

A friend of mine in Shah Alam took the idea of home gardening even further. He and his neighbours turned a vacant plot of land in their housing area into a community garden. They take turns tending the plants and harvesting vegetables and fruits together. It’s not just about gardening—it’s about sharing, collaboration, and reconnecting with nature and each other.

But what if you don’t have land at all? No problem. You can still grow a garden using boxes on your verandah or racks attached to your walls. Some people are incredibly resourceful and creative, growing chilies, herbs, and flowers in even the tiniest spaces.

As for me, the green fingers never came. I still can’t keep a plant alive. But I have something else—an eye for beauty and a camera to capture it. So while my wife grows the flowers, I press the shutter and freeze their beauty in time.