Climate Chronicles Podcast | Season 2, Episode 1
Edited transcript
Introduction
Host:
Can a single tomato plant teach us how to protect our future?
Today on Climate Chronicles, Kele from Lesotho takes us from her childhood garden in Southern Africa to Success Garden in East New York.
She shares how caring for the land across two continents revealed the true impact of warming climates on our food systems and why every garden is an act of hope.
Let’s hear her story.
Kele’s Story
Kele:
The first lesson about climate change didn’t come from a scientist. It came from a watering can in my grandmother’s garden.
As a child, I thought watering tomatoes was a waste of water and a waste of time. I wanted to rush outside to play with my friends. But my grandmother, Mae Esther, always handed me a watering can first.
I didn’t understand why then. Today I do.
Why do I love tomatoes?
They remind me of my grandmother’s garden, community gardens, climate change, and our shared responsibility to support farmers and protect our food systems.
I was raised in Maseru, Lesotho, by my grandmother, Mae Esther. She was an entrepreneur, a gardener, and the heart of our family.
We lived in a three-bedroom house with a large garden, where she raised me, my sister, and my two cousins.
Our garden was full of life. Peaches, apples, and grapes grew on the fruit trees. Tomatoes, cabbage, peas, spinach, and corn overflowed from the garden beds.
My grandmother taught me how to value education, hard work, and self-sufficiency.
As the oldest child, I helped with household chores and watered the garden every morning and afternoon, especially during school breaks.
I wasn’t always happy about it. I wanted to play. She wanted me to learn.
Looking back, I realize she wasn’t simply teaching me how to grow vegetables. She was teaching me responsibility, care, and how to look after something beyond myself.
Some of my happiest memories were in that garden: the smell of tomato leaves on my hands, picking warm red tomatoes straight from the vine, and watching my grandmother make delicious gravy.
Sometimes we ate fresh tomatoes from the vine with a little salt.
When the harvest was abundant, we sold extra tomatoes to our neighbors. Selling tomatoes became my first job.
Without realizing it, I had become a young entrepreneur.
Even today, I still enjoy being a street vendor as one of my side businesses.
Years later, life brought me to New York City.
When I discovered community gardens, I felt like I had found a piece of home.
Today, I volunteer at Success Garden in East New York, Brooklyn.
Every season, we receive tomato seedlings from GreenThumb, Green Guerillas, and the New York Restoration Project.
And together, neighbors grow, harvest, share, and celebrate fresh food.
But gardening here is different.
Instead of watering from a backyard tap, we collect water from street hydrants, fill heavy barrels, and carry watering cans across the garden.
Tomatoes require patience, care, and plenty of water.
The biggest challenge now is climate change.
Every summer, I see firsthand longer heat waves, droughts, pests, plant diseases, and weather that makes it harder to grow healthy tomatoes.
Yet, I keep watering.
Every watering reminds me of my grandmother. Her hands have become my hands.
Every tomato I grow feels like a conversation with her.
Scientists confirm what I already knew: tomato-growing regions around the world, like California in the U.S., China, Italy, Mexico, and my home country of Lesotho, are experiencing more heat, drought, soil erosion, and diseases.
We see it in our gardens, at farmers’ markets, and in grocery store prices.
I didn’t need a scientist to convince me that climate change is real.
My tomato plants taught me first.
They taught me it isn’t just about the weather. It is about people, families, and farmers.
It is about whether future generations will know the joy of picking a ripe tomato from the vine.
Today, I teach others about healthy eating, gardening, and growing food in their communities because I believe every seed we plant is an investment in our future.
My grandmother grew tomatoes to feed her family and share with her neighbors.
I grow tomatoes to honor her memory, strengthen my community, and help build a healthier future.
Her garden shaped my life.
Every tomato I grow reminds me that we are all in this together, in caring for Mother Earth and for one another.
Every seed we plant is a vote for a future.
Every garden is an act of hope.
Every tomato tells a story.
What will your tomato tell?
Closing
Host:
Thank you so much for listening. We hope these stories inspire you, just as they inspired us.
This podcast is part of a project created by New Women New Yorkers and was made possible thanks to the financial support of Con Edison.
We are deeply grateful for their belief in the power of immigrant women’s stories and for helping us uplift their voices and dreams.