ORGANIZING FOR URBAN AGRIHOOD PROJECTS

 ORGANIZING FOR URBAN AGRIHOOD PROJECTS

What is the difference between an “agrihood” and an “eco-farm”? Could it just be semantics, a play of words, or a clever rebranding to catch attention? At first glance, the difference between the two seems very thin. In fact, they may overlap in many ways. Still, it is worth exploring whether these terms truly represent different models—or if they simply reflect different contexts.

From my reading, “agrihood” could be short for “agricultural neighborhood.” That seems to imply an urban setting, where food production is embedded into community life—much like a barangay garden, but designed on a bigger, more organized scale. On the other hand, an “eco-farm” seems to belong to a rural setting, where the emphasis is on ecological sustainability. But then again, don’t we have neighborhoods in rural areas too? And can’t a farm be both ecological and community-based?

Here’s another thought: a farm can just be any farm. But an “eco-farm” must be ecologically smart, meaning sustainable. Some might even say that for a farm to qualify as “eco,” it must also be organic. Agrihoods, meanwhile, might not necessarily be organic, but they are supposed to be community-centered.

Interestingly, the term “agrihood” seems to be an American invention. It is widely used in the U.S., but it hasn’t yet caught on here in the Philippines. Will it? I hope it does.

Take Detroit, for example. In its North End neighborhood, the Michigan Urban Farming Initiative (MUFI) launched the first sustainable urban agrihood in the U.S.—and it has become a game-changer. They turned vacant lots and abandoned properties into a productive campus for food, learning, and community. It is not just farming; it is urban renewal.

Here’s what makes it unique: MUFI manages a two-acre urban garden with over 300 varieties of organic vegetables, a 200-tree fruit orchard, a sensory garden for children, and composting systems. The food they grow is distributed free to more than 2,000 households within a two-mile radius. Beyond farming, they are building a community resource center, nonprofit incubators, off-grid housing, solar panels, rainwater systems, and even public composting toilets. Clearly, this is more than agriculture—it is about resilience, empowerment, and circular design.

Now, why is this important for us? Because in many Philippine cities, we see idle lands, vacant lots, and abandoned government properties that could be put to better use. Imagine transforming a neglected barangay corner into a food-producing, income-generating, learning-rich “agrihood.” Even one hectare of land could make a huge difference.

What could fit in just one hectare? Quite a lot (pun intended). We could set aside community plots for vegetables and herbs, plant fruit trees like calamansi and mango, add a small fishpond for bangus, build a composting site, install solar panels, and even create a small café where the harvest could be served. A learning center or mini farm school could be added, integrating lessons in science, nutrition, and environmental awareness for children and adults alike.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if every barangay in Metro Manila had one? Not just a garden, but a self-sustaining agrihood?

But here comes the harder question: how do we sustain such projects? Starting them is easy—any barangay or civic group can launch a community garden. Sustaining them, however, requires structure, ownership, and accountability. This is where the idea of organizing cooperatives or associations comes in. A properly managed cooperative can give the project a stronger foundation, ensuring that it survives political changes, leadership turnover, or shifting donor interests.

And then there’s the matter of culture. Will Filipinos embrace the “agrihood” idea, or will they dismiss it as another imported term? Personally, I don’t mind the label. What matters more is the substance—the idea of creating agricultural neighborhoods that bring food closer to the table, make communities more resilient, and use resources more wisely.

Perhaps the name “eco-farm” may feel more natural for us. Or perhaps barangay leaders could coin their own term—something in Filipino, something homegrown. After all, why borrow words when we can create our own?

At the end of the day, the concept is not about branding. It is about solving real problems: food insecurity, wasted spaces, climate risks, and community disconnection. Whether we call it an “agrihood” or an “eco-farm,” what matters is that we organize, we plant, and we sustain.

So, here’s my suggestion--let’s not get stuck on the semantics. Instead, let’s start organizing for urban agrihood projects in our cities. And if the idea truly catches on, maybe one day we can proudly say that the Philippines didn’t just borrow the word “agrihood”—we redefined it.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres
iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com

11-14-2025