We stop in at the family farm, located in the heights of Morges, to say hello to Hofmann’s parents. Walti and Anne-Lise greet us with a big smile. In their kitchen, a famous colour print hangs on the wall: “Le labour dans le Jorat”, by Eugène Burnand. “A member of my family is in this print,” remarks Hofmann. This man of letters and seasoned globetrotter was born in 1978 and has worked as a journalist, shepherd, nursing assistant and teacher. The farm itself is still in operation. Patrick, one of Blaise’s cousins, cultivates its roughly 40 hectares.
There is one thing missing from the picture: cows, and the manure that goes with them. “In the country, dowries used to be calculated based on the size of the manure heap outside the parents’ farm,” the Vaud native writes. He stresses that Switzerland has always had more cows per inhabitant than anywhere else. His cousin Patrick didn’t make more than four to six Swiss francs per hour from his milk. That was the end of his grandfather’s inheritance.
A family profession
Most of the time, being a farmer is a family tradition. That’s how it was for Blaise’s grandfather, who arrived in Villars-sous-Yens in 1937 with his cows from Belpberg (BE), where “there were no free farms available”. The Vaud village had only two tractors, including his one. “He helped with the farm work at a time when many of the farmers had been conscripted. This helped him to integrate among the locals,” says Walti over a glass of wine made from the Chasselas grapes of his son’s vineyard.
“Faire paysan” gives urban readers an insight into the life of Swiss farmers. It makes you want to get to know the men and women who put food on our table. The essay describes the toughness of the job, the feeling of abandonment encountered by some in the farming sector, and the suicides.
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