"I believe that a revolution can begin from this one strand of straw. Seen at a glance, this rice straw may appear light and insignificant, hardly anyone would believe that it could start a revolution. But I have come to realize the weight and power of this straw. For me, this revolution is very real." - Masanobu Fukuoka, The One Straw Revolution

THE GERMINATION OF ONE STRAW

Finding the precise beginning of some stories is simple – the genesis of the Sunshine Coast’s organic growers group, "The One Straw Society", is as easily traced as a rhubarb leaf back to its root. I was standing in Dave Scott’s music store on a cold January night, way back in 1994, talking up to Dave’s chin which waved far above me on the other side of the counter. We were discussing the difficulty of getting gardening into the schools, saving our organic farmers market, and of getting better information to isolated home growers. I finally saw the answer. "We need an umbrella group, Dave. Something that covers all of these problems, finds a common thread and helps people with different skills to support each other. You could run it." Dave agreed to all, but kindly stepped aside from the last point. We wrangled over details and grew more excited by the possibilities. When Dave shooed me out into the frosty night so that he could lock up, we were both happy with the seed that had germinated. If I could only get him to run it!

Still, as I drove home, more details started to solidify in my mind. We’d need to meet when problems arose, like that Agricultural Land Reserve issue that was coming up soon. We could share ideas for helping farmers. And we could have a newsletter with ads in it, so we could find things easily. And maybe a library.

I pulled over to the side of the road and walked up an embankment under the stars, and let the cold settle into my bones. It was starting to occur to me that I was actually having a good idea. But we’d need a name, and someone to run this group. If Dave wouldn’t do it, maybe Adrian … .
One Straw. The name fell out of the stars and hit me on the head. One Straw? Is this a name for a group? Like the One Straw Revolution? That was a crazy name for an eco-gardening group. How about … One Straw? No. Not enough people would recognize what that name meant. I tried to clear my head, but it kept recurring, banging me on the top of my head with gentle certainty as the rest of me shivered in the dark. One Straw. I gave myself a moment’s consideration. One straw, like me? Like me feeling small and alone? Like feeling fragile and insignificant? But of course, the book The One Straw Revolution was about "the weight and power" of a single strand of straw, about how … ah, I remembered now … about how it could start a revolution. No. This was too crazy. This cold little straw had other work to do. I leapt back down the hill towards the car. I’d obviously have to use One Straw for now, until something better came up. But whatever it was called, we’d need some kind of charter!

Off I drove, home to rub the dog’s ears and build a fire, and quickly settle with a cold beer and a pen, and out it fell, in about 15 minutes. A whole usable charter. Wow! This was easy. Now we needed a logo. I sketched out what I hoped looked like straw on a piece of paper and faxed it to Charon O’Brien, with a plea to clean it up a bit and get it back to me as soon as possible.

The night continued on like this, with a membership form, lists of activities, ideas for a newsletter, all tumbling out in a rush. I would start tomorrow, driving around, signing up members and getting donations. This group starting was pretty easy. All we needed now was someone to run it.

And so One Straw was born, quickly, relatively painlessly, and with no unpleasant aftereffects. Within the month we had 15 members. We had produced a newsletter and had our first meeting. The effect of our numbers caused a snowball – Ken Hunter threw a noisy concert and shared the profits with us. Robert Nichol showed his National Film Board videos on our behalf. We started a library of books and videos. We had a raffle to raise funds for the Farmers Market, and began a partnership with Community Services to start a Community Garden. By June of that year we had 50 members and we organized the first Zucchini Festival, a simple but lovely country fair boasting all things sustainable, with a children’s’ fiddle contest, zucchini toss and plant and veggie sales.

We weren’t taken too seriously by the bigger environmental groups at this point. After all, we were just a gardening group. It became a constant refrain for me to remind my fellow eco-warriors that food consumption had a huge impact on the environment. That the shipping of food was a huge addition to fossil fuel use. That wanting oranges and bananas fueled the noisy skies with their jet trails, that our dollars spent on another country’s food left one more local organic grower fighting for a living, that hating Monsanto was meaningless as long as we kept supporting them, and not our neighbour’s farm, with our food dollar - that every time we chose not to garden for ourselves, another clearcut was developed in someone else’s forest to feed us. A forest we couldn’t see, so it was no loss to us - no reminder to us that its loss was our responsibility.

But we carried on. We threw a Sustainable Food month in what we realized was the last planting season before Y2K, because home gardens never suffer from computer glitches. We arranged another Seedy Saturday for our community, and then another. We had workshops and Microfarming meetings. We created an electronic bulletin board so members on line could receive quick notice of chickens for sale, rhubarb wanted. . We had potlucks complete with kids and dogs, so we could keep in good touch with each others’ hopes, projects and failures.

As of April 2004, we have been a Society for many years, and hold our teacups a little differently. We hover around 70 strong, about half of those Lifetime members. Our members meet and bond, trade manure for firewood, chickens for rhubarb, compare notes, and look after each other’s children. And in retrospect, I realize that I no longer feel like that frail, lonely person on that hillside – that I inadvertently created myself a family and a life purpose that night, as well as an environmental endeavour.

By Robin Wheeler