It was probably the most well-dressed protest I have ever documented.

“March as if you are really angry!” said the man with the loudspeaker, presumably someone from the organiser, 38 Degrees.

“How?” cried a few people from within the rally.

That was how sweet the protestors were. Maybe they should have looked angrier for the press photo call, but they are really just a peaceful, nature-loving lot.

The message of the protest, however, is serious.

Tom Wright from Waltham Forest says “we should look at the evidence” to prevent the decline of bees. He has proposed to his local council to plant wildflower seeds in parks. The March of Beekeepers, Parliament Square. Photo © Zarina Holmes

In March, the EU nations have failed to reach agreement on proposals to ban the use of three pesticides that have been linked to the decline of bees. 14 out of the 27 EU nations – including the UK and Germany – had not supported the commission’s proposals as they currently stood.

38 Degrees together with Avaaz, Buglife, Environmental Justice Foundation, Friends of the Earth, Greenpeace, Pesticide Action Network UK, RSPB and the Soil Association, hosted The March of the Beekeepers’ rally to propose a halt to the use of nerve-agent pesticides, neonicotinoids, which are being blamed around the world for the sharp decline in bee numbers.

Designers Vivienne Westwood and Katharine Hamnett were there to support the cause.

I have written a report about the rally, now published on the Optimist World.

I am glad to have met life scientists, beekeepers and conservationists who can now update me more on sustainable food production practice – so Food Notes can continue to evolve as a strong body of environmental photojournalism project.

Here are the portraits of The March of the Beekeepers’ rally. Please click on any picture to start the slideshow.

Inquiries for licensed press images, please email zarinaholmesstudio@gmail.com

 Copyright © Zarina Holmes 2013. All rights reserved.

One day they are our pets, the next day they will become food. Rural farmers respect their animals, but they are not sentimental when it comes to food production.

Today my father decided to sell his rabbits. He made a phone call to his regular buyer, Ah Seng, who has a small animal farm in Air Tawar village.

Young rabbits to be sold. Photo © Zarina Golmes

After a short exchange on the phone in a mixture of Chinese and Malay, he turned to me:

“Okay, I want you to hold the sack for me.”

I was grateful that father was swift at doing this. Sending livestock animals to their final destinations is never easy – well, not to me anyway.

There were six young rabbits, who were getting as large as their mother. Father grabbed five and placed them one by one in a huge sack. He made a few holes so the rabbits could breathe.

I carried the sack into the car and placed it at the bottom of my feet, trying make the rabbits comfortable as possible. I peered inside. They looked terrified.

Poultry at Ah Seng’s farm. Photo © Zarina Holmes

A rabbit can cost up to RM15 per kilo. According to father, our rabbits are too large to keep and too expensive to feed. He fed them on fresh leaves, which was why they looked well.

At the red traffic light, he stopped to pat the rabbits lovingly on their heads.

“Aren’t they beautiful? I washed them so their fur is clean. Maybe someone will keep them as pets.”

I hope so, I replied warily. The rural community’s relationship with their animals is very practical. There is always a grey area between pets and food.

Ah Seng’s farm is situated deep inside a palm oil plantation. It covers a small open area and is nothing like an industrial farm where you find animals in a row of neat, individual cages.

The farm looked unkempt. I wish it could be tidier, but Ah Seng himself is an elderly man who walks with a limp. Younger people wouldn’t want to do this job.

It was the closest we could get to a free-range farm. There were ducks and chicken roaming everywhere, and a pack of farm dogs running around. Some chickens were held in cages, ready to be transported to the market.

Farm dogs playing. Photo © Zarina Holmes

As I stepped outside the car, I was greeted by an alpha male from the pack, who growled menacingly at me. These are worker dogs, I thought. Not the cute, friendly type that I am used to in London.

I handed the sack of rabbits to Ah Seng, who proceeded to weigh it on a scale.

He had a few exchanges with father, both completely ignoring the fact that the alpha male didn’t stop growling and staring at my throat.

Ah Seng paid father RM65 for the rabbits. He told us he was going to the market later today to sell them. They could end up as pets or meat.

He didn’t mind me photographing the farm at all. According to Ah Seng he doesn’t like to keep the animals for too long in the farm because the thieves may come at night.

Free range eggs and chickens are still popular and valued by the locals. They are called “ayam kampung” or “village chickens” which means that they are reared in a traditional way in an open space and not injected with growth hormones.

Free range eggs are pricier than normal eggs at RM0.80 each. They are more expensive in metropolitan cities like Kuala Lumpur.

Free range cows grazing at a palm oil plantation in Selangor. Photo © Zarina Holmes

I was relieved to jump back inside the car, because the snarling alpha male were circling closer to me.

On the way out I saw a sign saying “Katak” or frogs. I made a mental note to persuade father to visit that farm next time.

At home, I went to check the remaining rabbits. Three of them left. The mother rabbit looked less agitated after being fed. Father asked me to check the sex of the younger rabbit. No testicles. Female, a potential new mother for the future brood.

Father decided to neuter the mother rabbit at the Animals Ministry. The locals often go to the government’s vets for cheaper treatment for pets and livestock. It only costs around RM5 for a medicinal shot.

Mother rabbit can now retire in peace as a pet.

Read more Food Notes:

# 5 At The Animal Farm
# 4 How To Make A Good Fire
# 3 Permatang Pasir Fish Market
# 2 All Fruits Were Flowers Once
# 1 My Grandmother’s Rice Field

I was excited about today because today’s cooking lesson with mother was how to create a good open fire for a traditional barbecue.

Burning coconut shells. Photo: Zarina Holmes

Making fire is an art. I was a Girl Scout and I had plenty of camping experience. However the kind of fire I used to make was hastily concocted with gasoline and old newspapers.

According to mother, newspaper and gasoline create a “bitter” smelling smoke, which isn’t appetizing.

First, burn coconut husk and cherry branches. Photo : Zarina Holmes

We have constant supply of firewood from the garden. Mother bought additional charcoal because it helps to ignite the fire properly.

The ingredients for the making a barbecue fire is:

Dry small cherry branches
Dry coconut shells and husk, separated
Dry coconut leaves, tied in a bunch
Dry coconut branches
Charcoals
Various arm-sized branches, 1 foot long
18 bricks
A hand fan

Throw in some charcoals and coconut shells. Photo: Zarina Holmes

First, arrange the bricks equally to create a stable barbecue place for cooking. Then lit the tied-up coconut leaves and place in the middle of barbecue.

Place coconut husk to ignite the flame. Then carefully add small cherry branches to keep the flame consistent. It should smoke a little bit now.

Various firewood collected from the garden. Photo: Zarina Holmes

When the fire gets bigger, add bigger branches and coconut shells to slow down the burning process. These should turn the wood into glowing amber. We don’t want to create too much smoke.

Add charcoals to keep the fire alive, and fan occasionally to distribute oxygen around the fireplace.

Fan the fire occasionally. Photo: Zarina Holmes

Then place the barbecue grill over the fire, where you would cook the meat.

It should take ten to fifteen minutes to start the fire.

The fire smelled sweet like burnt leaves. It smelled of my childhood, which was wild and adventurous in the countryside.

I really miss this when am in the City. And I’m not sure if smelling like a woodfire oven is accepted on the Tube.

Barbecue meat should be cooked on consistent, slow flame. Photo: Zarina Holmes

I asked mother: “What is the best kind of fire?”

It depends, she said. A huge flame is necessary for boiling, but smoked fish needs slow burning amber to cook properly.

It is important to identify which wood burns faster, and which burns slowly.

“Anything than burns quickly will die out faster. Anything that burns slowly, will continue as flames much longer.”

Read more Food Notes:

# 5 At The Animal Farm
# 4 How To Make A Good Fire
# 3 Permatang Pasir Fish Market
# 2 All Fruits Were Flowers Once
# 1 My Grandmother’s Rice Field

Serpentine-bodied local fish. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

Lumut is a modest seaside town, a short distance from the scenic Pangkor islands.

Despite its growing affluence it is still very understated. The town cannot offer many recreational excitements to young people, unlike Penang or Kuala Lumpur.

A heap of dried fish overlooking the fish station. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

We could have gone to the local Tesco, but my father knew I prefer the village fish market. It reeks of fishy smell, but definitely more interesting to photograph.

I asked the local fish seller if I could photograph his stall. He looked a bit shy but he said didn’t mind.

Local squids drenched in their ink. They taste nice when fried in soya sauce. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

A passing truck full of workmen waved and smiled into my camera.

The open fish markets are fast disappearing due to competitions from supermarkets. To be fair, they are not the most charming places to visit, with flies swarming everywhere.

But I like seeing the fishermen unloading fish that they caught from the water.

It looks a lot like catfish, but larger. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

I saw two cats perched on the fish containers, waiting to steal a fish or two. No one chased them away, so they must be pets.

We bought some local fish and squids. There were tunas too, but I doubt those came from our water so we didn’t buy them.

A curious cat “helping” a customer choosing the fish to buy. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

I noticed that the road leading to the fish market were very dusty, and mentioned it to my father.

He said: “The road is dusty because Vale is building an iron ore pellet factory down the road.”

Selangat fish.  Photo @ Zarina Holmes

He swung the car around and led us towards a huge white tower looming in the horizon. It is the chimney of the coal factory next to the Vale site.

The Brazilian company is one of the largest iron manufacturing company in the world.

Fishermen at the fishing station. The huge energy company’s tower looming in the background. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

I saw workmen with sunburnt faces, yellow hats and matching rubber boots walking home along the roadside. My father told me that of them are migrant workers from Vietnam, Indonesia and Bangladesh.

I asked him if there will be environmental implications from the iron ore pellet factory.

Factory workers returning home. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

“The local people staged protests, but the project still goes ahead. Perhaps it will create more jobs for the people here. But at the moment, it’s not nice having the dust around here. Look at that restaurant… I don’t think I can eat there now.”

We passed the local school on our way home.

Vale factory site. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

Father said: “Look at the footbridge at the school. That was donated by Vale for the local community.”

I didn’t glance at it.

A footbridge won’t be enough when the iron ore pollution wipes out the shellfish population in this water.

Our dinner being weighed. Will this sight last for a few more years? Photo @ Zarina Holmes

Read more Food Notes:

# 5 At The Animal Farm
# 4 How To Make A Good Fire
# 3 Permatang Pasir Fish Market
# 2 All Fruits Were Flowers Once
# 1 My Grandmother’s Rice Field

When I took my lens out, the droplets were still hanging on the flowers. It’s nearly April and the fruit trees around my mother’s house have started blooming.

The banana’s deep purple bloom turns into a bunch of fruits. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

I decided to look at flowers that will eventually become the fruits and vegetables we buy from the supermarket – such as banana, papaya, pomegranate, cucumber, lime and coconut.

The origins of our fruits and vegs are kept well away from our eyes, unless we bother to delve into text books. As a result, we have become a society divorced from the reality of food production and farming.

Pomegranates produce deep red flowers to match the seeds later. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

It has become hard for us to emphatise with ecological issues and make a personal connection between ourselves and agriculture.

This month the EU governments have failed to agree a ban on three widely used pesticides linked to the decline of bees. The UK and Germany have shocked many with their decisions to back pesticide producers, Sygenta and Bayers, to overturn the ban.

Coconuts produce tiny white flowers like these before becoming… coconuts. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

The crops rely on complex eco-system agents such as the bees, birds and insects to assist the pollination process in order to be successful.

In a few weeks time, the fragile flower of the papaya tree will be replaced by a 250 gram of fruit.

Nature is so kind and abundant. We must remember that all fruits were just tiny flowers in the beginning.

Cucumber flower slowly turning into a vegetable. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

Tiny papaya flowers before being replaced by 250 gram fruits. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

I don’t know its English or Latin name, but the fruits are sweet. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

Lime flowers. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

Mango flowers before they turn into a bunch of fruits. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

Read more Food Notes:

# 5 At The Animal Farm
# 4 How To Make A Good Fire
# 3 Permatang Pasir Fish Market
# 2 All Fruits Were Flowers Once
# 1 My Grandmother’s Rice Field

The people in Lumut have a pretty high standard when it comes to seafood, although I have noticed KFC and Pizza Huts in town, which are sadly becoming popular to the young people.

Today I visited my aunt, who is living at my late grandmother’s house in the nearby village. The house used to be completely wooden on stilts, but now mostly re-done in bricks. Until I was seven, it didn’t have electricity. Now the place has wi-fi connectivity.

At late noon, I asked my aunt to take me to the our family’s rice field. She drove me there. The sunset was deep gold and beautiful, reflecting on the new rice bed. No wonder the rice symbolises wealth. The grain adopts the copper hue of the sun when it is ready to be harvested.

The village’s rice field. Bota Kiri, Perak. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

I asked her: “Do we eat the rice that we produce ourselves?”

“Not directly. The farmers have to sell the harvest to the government’s coop cheaply, and then the coop will re-sell the rice back to the farmers at a more expensive price.”

She explained that the government coop owns the machine to process the rice for farmers. In turn, the farmers have stopped processing their own harvest traditionally because it is too time-consuming.

But the people in the village still get to eat their locally-produced rice.

My aunt’s next door neighbour kept a bored-looking monkey that was chained in front of the house. I asked my aunt if the monkey plucks coconut fruits for the owner, like the old days. No, my aunt said. The monkey is a pet for amusement. I felt sorry for the animal, who has a more miserable life that its worker predecessors.

Chained monkey, yawning from boredom. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

As my father drove me from back to our seaside home, I asked him where our fish comes from.

“Do you mean the fish we eat? The good, expensive ones we export to Singapore, the cheap ones we import from Bangladesh for local consumption.”

That dashed my romantic idea of living in a self-sustainable community.

“I went to photograph the rice field today. Saw some fish. Can we still eat fish from the rice field?”

I have a vivid memory of my late grandmother bringing home a bucketful of tilapia fish from the rice field, and then instructing me to clean them for dinner – after bashing their heads with the back of her knife.

“No, the area is sprayed with pesticides. We can’t eat fish from there anymore.”

My eyes widened. I thought about the fragile snail’s eggs I photographed in the watery field.

Snail’s eggs in the rice field. Surprisingly pink. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

“You can still eat tilapia fish, but they are farmed in ponds,” my father said, “They taste like mud though, because they don’t swim in running water.”

At dinner, I looked at the fried fish that my mother had cooked. They were covered in yellow turmeric powder and simply fried in coconut oil.

“Are they from Bangladesh?”

“No,” my mum said, “Those are local. We don’t eat imported fish in this house. Never buy fish with bloodshot eyes. They are not fresh.”

I didn’t tell mother that I never saw a single fish head in my local Sainsbury’s in London, let alone examine their eyes. They are all packed in plastics as fillets and have been frozen for a good while. Possibly weeks.

That would freak mother out.

Sunset at the rice field. Photo @ Zarina Holmes

Zarina Holmes is one of the panel judges of KL International Photoawards 2013. She is based in London.

Read more Food Notes:

# 5 At The Animal Farm
# 4 How To Make A Good Fire
# 3 Permatang Pasir Fish Market
# 2 All Fruits Were Flowers Once
# 1 My Grandmother’s Rice Field

 /a>

The film also reminds me of the best advice on photography I had from couture milliner Myriam Lengliné of La dame au béret: “Photography is supposed to make people dream.”

‘Sheherazade’ by Myriam Lengliné. Photo © Zarina Holmes

Oz The Great and Powerful is a great visual and style feast. In my view, it matches the Technicolor spectacle of The Wizard of Oz, which was released in 1939 at the beginning of WWII. The new Disney release also featured an impressive array of millinery style, which I predict will influence the catwalk this year.

Myriam, who is a friend and creative collaborator, shares my feeling about the lack of dream in the creative industry lately. We despair over trendy, cutting edge style that serves to shock and sensationalize, rather than aspiring to timeless elegance.

Rowers in boating hats at The Boat Race between Oxford and Cambridge Universities at Putney Embankment. Photo © Zarina Holmes

As a photographer, I am inspired by Myriam’s work, which is never short of elegance and imagination. I also love the work of her mentor, Edwina Ibbotson, one of the UK’s leading milliner.

The recession has made creatives all too cautious and risk-averse in expressing bold ideas. We trade our dreams for what we think is practical and cost-effective. We make compromises, when doing the opposite provides a better solution.

Headpiece by Edwina Ibbotson. Photo © Zarina Holmes

Perhaps what we need to do is to stop holding back and dream our way out of this situation. It may sound like a cliché, but as Oscar the Wizard had discovered, a bit of imagination and daring can go a long way.

All images copyright Zarina Holmes. Millinery design copyright Myriam Lengliné and Edwina Ibbotson. 

‘Black is Black’ by Myriam Lengliné. Photo © Zarina Holmes

Myriam Lengliné in her La dame au béret studio space. Photo © Zarina Holmes

Hat by Edwina Ibbotson. Photo © Zarina Holmes

Bow headpiece by Myriam Lengliné. Photo © Zarina Holmes

‘Archie’ with headpiece by Myriam Lengliné. Photo © Zarina Holmes

Hat by Edwina Ibbotson. Photo © Zarina Holmes

Valentines is cheesy but it is fun. Many pretend not to celebrate it, although it is always safer to remember to give something sweet to your partners. This gesture goes a long way in a relationship.

Picking flower bouquets on the way home. Photo © Zarina Holmes

It was nice seeing men stopping by at the florists to pick up bouquets for the other halves, and the women making the effort to look great. The evening is about meeting each other halfway.

Perhaps it is true the Valentines Day is now far removed from its religious origin. It was a genius Victorian Industrial Revolution re-invention, which promotes high street spending on cute keepsake craft items. If it is good for the economy, it can’t be a bad thing.

Romantic dinner for two. Photo © Zarina Holmes

London Eye is lit red on Valentines night. Photo © Zarina Holmes

Valentines visitors watching the city’s panorama from the London Eye. Photo © Zarina Holmes

Lovers by the river Thames. Photo © Zarina Holmes

The Westminster at night. Photo © Zarina Holmes

Balloon seller at Embankment. Photo © Zarina Holmes

Like other residents of Hammersmith and Fulham, I strongly disagree with this idea as I have witnessed how the NHS cuts is affecting the emergency services in my borough.

I don’t normally point my lens to uncomfortable issues close to where I live – but when this incident happened on my own doorstep last winter – I feel that I have a responsibility as a photojournalist to share it with my community.

More about this topic on the Fulham & Hammersmith Chronicle. http://www.fulhamchronicle.co.uk/

Fulham & Hammersmith Chronicle 28th September 2012.