While small and land-strapped, the busy metropolis of Singapore actually has a countryside.  Kranji is an area located just 30 minutes outside the city center, well outside the radar of the casual tourist.  Far from the urban high rise cityscape, it hosts everything from military barracks to fish farms to wildlife parks. 

It is a place where people go to escape city life and experience a Singapore less ordinary.  Nestled in this green corner of the country is a place known as Bollywood Veggies.  If you’ve heard of the place, you know of its owner Ivy Singh-Lim.  And if you’ve heard of Ivy, you know she’s a firecracker-- a local legend. 

A conversation with this activist will leave you inspired, challenged, perhaps a bit offended, but definitely refreshed.  For a 60 year-old woman, Ivy possesses more energy than most apathetic people two generations younger.  I dropped in to check out their 10 acre organic farm and bistro eatery and got more than I bargained for.

Over a glass of ice water in the sweltering heat, Ivy tells her story.  “My second husband and I met and got married in 3 days.  Twenty-seven years later we are still trying to decide who was drunk and who was desperate,” she laughs, her eyes engaged firmly the whole time. 

“We were both running businesses.  I was the child of a rich landowner family who owned large tracts of property.  Whether by family background or career choice, I could have chosen to retire and not do much,” she says.

Instead, back in 2001 when they quit their full-time executive lives, they shifted to something more meaningful.  “I’m not interested in selling bullshit to make money,” Ivy says, “In fact, I’m even starting an E.O.B.S. campaign—Enough of BullShit.  Once I was done with offices, I wanted to do something entirely different.  I wanted a life on the land somewhere, living more intentionally, and doing things for my community.  I’m not a do-gooder.  I want to add value to my own life, and to live actively.”

She and her husband were almost set on retiring in Australia, when they found out there was actually land available in Singapore.  The couple moved in quite quickly to sign a long-term lease with the government for 10 acres that used to be agricultural land. 

Before that, almost all the land used to be split into small villages known as a kampongs, where its inhabitants would have raised most of their own food.  “We were attracted to this sense of history, of place, of being self-sustainable,” Ivy says. 

“You know in Singapore during the 1960’s, we used to produce around 90% of our own food.  We were a center of agricultural excellence.  After rapid urbanization, we now produce somewhere around 7%.  It’s shocking how much we rely on other countries to exist in Singapore.” 

The name Bollywood came from the shape of the property resembling Mumbai and Ivy’s eccentric performing personality probably from her strong Indian and Chinese heritage.

Over the ensuing eight years to the present day, the land transformed from overgrown jungle into a thriving organic farm.  From herbs and salad greens to 16 varieties of bananas, coffee, cocoa, sugarcane, red bean, and longans, the landscape provides a lush source of food.  Ivy’s education manager Judy, who showed us around, says there are hundreds of plant species on site, both native and imported.  Tours of the farm take place on a regular basis, and sometimes the site sees as many as 500-600 people a day.

With abundant food source came a bistro, affectionately named “Poison Ivy”.  On weekends and holidays, the bistro turns a brisk business and employs around 10 people, some with disabilities.

“Among other things, we try to use this place as a place to train and empower women and marginalized people, ones that would get ostracized elsewhere.  We’ve hired people with disabilities, some that were even illiterate and helped them to thrive here,” Ivy says. 

“What many people forget is that many of the girls of my generation were raised in poverty, raised to be married off.  The resources went to sending the men to school.  The country was built off this background of poverty, and there are still many even today with marginal skills.  We want to help them be independent and prosperous,” Ivy tells me.   

Next to the restaurant facilities is a food museum or ‘bhanchha’ due to officially open shortly.  “It’s going to function as an education facility, so people can relearn about local food sources and get training with growing their own food,” Ivy says.  “This place is all about showing people what’s possible, giving them experience and confidence on the land and in their lives.”

With an outlook so altruistic, it’s interesting to see that Ivy’s philosophy is in many ways inward focused.  “I’m half Chinese and half Indian, two of the smartest races on the planet, two cultures that could have only collided in this part of the world,” she says.  “I was born with a silver spoon, and brought up to be ‘special’.  I didn’t have to do anything with my life, but what fun would that be?” she says.   

“I always have bureaucrats coming to visit me about this or that… telling me ‘you can’t build it that height’ or ‘you have to drain your pond because of mosquitoes that spread dengue fever’…when I first told them I wanted to build a house on the property and actually live on the land, the paper pushers were shocked.  It had become so foreign to them to live close to the land,” Ivy says.  “I told these donkeys to get lost, that we were going to find a way and do it, and I hold the same line any time one of them shows up to complain about something new.”

She and her husband persevered not just because of a desire to be an example for the community, but because of personal aspiration to achieve.  Ivy has developed a reputation over the years for being a thorn in the side of bureaucrats, in spite that this can often cause severe difficulties in tightly controlled Singapore, even penalties to those who get out of hand.  “Rules are made to be changed,” she says, her intense brown eyes still fixated since the beginning of the conversation.  “Know no fear.”  She means it.

Ivy’s found personal satisfaction in her semi-retirement, connection with land and community, and a meaningful, sustainable way of life-- just as intended.  So what does she see wrong with the world today, reflecting back over her 60 years of experience so far?

“Young smart asses are all taught to think they’re smarter than everyone else,” she says.  “The most difficult thing is to teach children what’s right and wrong, it’s difficult to tell—it should be something that is internal, a matter of heart and conscience that is cultivated by society.  Instead with focus only on matters that are academic and intellectual,” Ivy says. 

Worse, when it comes to religion, we miss the point of morals.  “We make children aware of God and rules, not conscience.  We need to promote a world of conscience.  You must have a value base,” she says.  “When I was younger, I was educated at a Catholic school.  One of the sisters, Christina Yeo, said something that has stuck with me all these years: ‘You don’t have to be Christian to be Christ-like.’  That really gets to the crux of it.”

“We need honest visionaries to tackle our problems, people without hype, entrepreneurs that create something useful.  The latest economic crisis was brought about by trying to create wealth without work.  Clearly we can see how well that panned out.  People don’t stop to think about this,” she says. 

“But lately, I’ve had a cause for hope.  Young people are questioning, wondering why things aren’t working.  Students come here to see what’s going on.  Young people come to ask me questions and I tell them what I tell you,” Ivy says.  “From an Asian perspective, we need to pass on what we know, to teach and inspire others and not sit on our knowledge.” 

It is a philosophy that has undoubtedly served her well. 

Chris Tobias is Lead Strategist at Forward and Editor of Celsias.com

More cool stuff on Celsias:

Singapore's Bustling Green Building: The Poh Ern Shih Temple
Growing Power Through Urban Farms

Follow us on Twitter!