Where have all the farmers gone?
When harvest time finally arrives, freshly picked hangju are put through a 16-hour drying process, during which they are exposed to hot air blown at steadily increasing temperatures ranging from 20 to 100°C. Only then can the processed flowers be sold for use as “meridian guide drugs” or as ingredients in health drinks.
As all herbal tea lovers know, chrysanthemum tea gives off a light, clean floral fragrance. What you may not know, says Han Shunxiong, is that golden mums have a richer, more robust aroma. Each type of chrysanthemum in fact has its own bouquet.
As for the applications of hangju in Traditional Chinese Medicine, besides selling processed flowers directly to TCM pharmacists, Tongluo Farmers’ Association director Ye Jincheng relates that the association is currently developing spice packets combining mums with medicinal herbs like goji berries and astragalus root that will make it very convenient for consumers to bring the taste of Tongluo hangju into their daily lives. They also hope that in the future, the government will lead a marketing campaign to take their chrysanthemums—suitably attired in attractive new packaging—into Japan and Korea, where many people are also connoisseurs of health foods, thereby opening up new opportunities for this local industry.
The only problem is, it is not certain that there will be anyone around to take advantage of these opportunities. Taiwan’s rural population is rapidly aging, and few young people stay in the countryside. Finding a successor generation of farmers is proving to be as big a challenge for chrysanthemums as for other crops. This is especially problematic because hangju are highly labor intensive. Every step from cultivating seedlings to harvesting the flowers requires workers in the fields, and there are no machines that can do their tasks.
At the end of October, Han Shunxiong opened his account books to calculate his overall costs. In 2012 he did weeding five times, each time hiring 15 workers per hectare, paying out NT$30,000 in wages. Harvesting was divided into three phases, and he had to employ 400 workers per hectare to squat next to the knee-high bushes and pluck the flowers one by one, costing him NT$120 in labor costs for each catty of chrysanthemums.
It is no surprise, given all that has been said so far, that the price of Taiwan-grown hangju far exceeds that of imported ones. Are they worth it? Han points to samples of Taiwan-grown and mainland China-grown white mums, and notes that the Tongluo hangju are full and robust, each flower with more than 100 petals, while the mainland ones are rather flat and have few petals, reflecting the differences between the natural growing conditions and human inputs on the two sides. And this comparison does not even take into account Taiwan’s lead in systematic testing for safety and in the management of agrochemicals.
In Chinese culture, the chrysanthemum has both abstract and concrete importance. To the mind, it represents the nobility and integrity of the ideal literatus, with a character that remains unsullied by the mundane world. To the body, in the course of daily life, it is a tonic or a food ingredient.
If you happen to be in Taiwan now that autumn is turning to winter, why not take a trip to Miaoli County’s Tongluo Township or over to Taitung, sip slowly from a pot of chrysanthemum tea, alone or with friends, and gaze out over the fields of snow-white or gilded hangju? Your mind will surely be drawn away from the busy modern world back into the mists of ancient Chinese civilization....
The hangju industry is very labor-intensive, but these days fewer and fewer people want to be farmers. It’s a dilemma for those promoting the industry. The photo shows harvesting of Tongluo white mums.