Walled garden's awakening

Sometimes people in social enterprise slip into detachment from reality behind their LCD screens as easily as their business-as-usual colleagues. When we start to confuse social impact metrics for real people, or carbon credits for, well, anything real, it is probably the time. It is the right time to get ourselves out of our offices and to dive into some offline, hands-on, local engagement experience. Luckily there is no shortage of opportunities.



Less than two weeks ago on a beautiful Sunday morning, I found myself amidst a gang of volunteering 'Garden Angels' in eastern London. The sun was shining, people were getting dirty and excited, and one walled garden was slowly awaking from its long slumber, sending ripples to the whole neighbourhood.



The garden, the people, and the whole project were an unusual mix, aiming to go far beyond just planting a patch of lettuce. Their aim was to recreate a meaning for the old place within the context of contemporary communities. Pulling together an award-winning singer Imogen Heap, design thinking and micro-urbanism expertise of Clear Village, a bunch of excited volunteers from all over the world, and committed local partners, it was a collaborative effort to inspire local communities. To inspire locals by retelling the forgotten tale of a vast, magnificent, Georgian kitchen garden lying hidden within its four-meter walls amidst a beautiful park on a hill overseeing London. A tale about a garden that used to serve those in a dire need as a food source of last resort, before it was shut down. A garden that was vandalised and erased from memories of common folk of that area.



This project by Clear Village saw the garden re-inhabited for a week, showed a glimpse of the garden's potential, and teased the locals with some thought-provoking questions: Should an enchanting place of such a deep soul and history stay neglected? Can it be helped to a grow into a new meaning in the 21st century? Can we find new invigorating modes of coexistence between the garden and the humans? Could it become a refuge, an organic food site, a place of gathering, a place of peace and joy? What effort and commitment would that require?



Such questions are not unique to this walled garden project, and they capture a lot of what a social enterprise is about in my eyes -- real communities and their places -- that is where social enterprise happens. And those of us whose sense of reality is too often endangered by an office space should get out from time to time to projects like this one to stay in touch.