It’s a sunny, sticky late June afternoon and Habiba Salat bends over tidy rows of knee-high vegetables in a sprawling field at Liberation Farms in Wales.
"What are you working on right now?" asked Maine Public reporter Nora Saks.
"I’m weeding my tomatoes and squash," said Habiba Salat, speaking in Maay-Maay.
Salat is one of about 20 Somali Bantu farmers who grow crops for market and wholesale at the 103 farm which is owned and run by the Lewiston-based Somali Bantu Community Association. Muhidin Libah, the organization’s director, is translating from Maay-Maay, a language spoken in southern Somalia, to English.
Salat is cheerful, until we start talking about the recent cancellation of their Local Food Purchasing Assistance contract.
"I just really got confused," she said in Maay Maay. "I thought all the markets would be gone all of a sudden."
Until the program's abrupt termination in March, the LFPA allowed disadvantaged farmers to earn a fair wage growing healthy food and distributing it to underserved communities.
Last year, Liberation Farms received $75,000 through the program, about half of their wholesale accounts. The funding made it possible for farmers to get paid to donate fresh produce and culturally familiar crops, like amaranth greens and African flint corn, to food pantries and directly to community members.
According to Good Shepherd Food Bank, the LFPA would have provided $1.25 million and an estimated 500,000 pounds of local produce to hungry Mainers over the next three years.
"It helps both farmers and the low-income communities, like the farmers, to get access to markets, and the low-income community get fresh veggies," Libah said.
And that's why when he first heard the news, he thought it was a lie.
"There's no way they can cut this program. If they care about people and the welfare of people, they would not cut this," Libah said. "But that wasn't true."
According to Maine’s Roadmap to End Hunger, African immigrants experience the highest rate of food insecurity in the entire state; 51% do not have consistent access to enough quality food.
The cancelation of LFPA occurred at the same time as President Trump’s immigration crackdown that has sowed fear in many communities. And for farmers, the timing was particularly tough.
"Our seeds were ordered, and we already started greenhouse work," Libah said. "And we were thinking, we have the money we need and the markets we need to fulfill the 2025 growing season."
Producers like Habiba Salat, who depend on farming for their livelihood, were left scrambling.
"I never thought we could have a farm this year, but I decided to continue farming," Salat said.
Muhidin Libah said that was the unanimous response among Somali Bantu farmers he works with. Despite the economic risk, they did what they do every season: sow seeds, prepare the soil, plant their crops, and see what happens.
About 15 miles away, a similar situation is unfolding in Lewiston at the New Roots Cooperative Farm, which is now in its tenth season.
Batula Ismail is weeding beets in head-to-toe maroon fabric and flip flops. She’s one of four elder Somali Bantu farmer-owners who came to Maine in the early 2000s as refugees and now grow and sell crops together at farmers markets, CSA, and wholesale.
"What is your biggest market?" asked Saks.
"The biggest market is wholesale. But this year, I don’t know," said Ismail, trailing off.
New Roots’ farmers were also counting on the federal funding to come through this year. It helps them distribute fresh food to more than 150 families every week.
But farm coordinator Omar Hassan said 2025 is shaping up to be one of their hardest seasons yet.
He said the loss of LFPA funding and other income streams, means that, "per farmer, we're looking at least 30% of their income."
Hassan also works with a lot of the youth and families in the Lewiston area who receive the donated produce through local organizations.
"It's a long line of disappointment right now," Hassan said. "A lot of people are really devastated.'
Since the initial shock has worn off, farming groups in Maine have been banding together to try to patch the gaping hole that LFPA and other federal programs have left.
The Immigrant Farmer Fund, organized by Liberation Farms, New Roots, and Portland-based non-profit Cultivating Community, has so far raised about $80,000 to help all 50 or so farmers get through this season.
Silvan Shawe, the director of Cultivating Community, said, "We came together and decided to go bigger, to say, 'This is not just our one community. This is our state," Shawe said. "We really need to work together to make sure that we all have what we need."
Out of that effort sprouted the grassroots Farm to Neighbor campaign, which involves seven equity-focused food and farm organizations statewide.
The Farm to Neighbor network hopes to raise $750,000 to create more long term, sustainable solutions for expanding local food access for vulnerable people and supporting underserved farmers.
But that will take time. Meanwhile, immigrant farmers like Habiba Salat continue to tend and harvest their crops, not yet knowing whether they'll be able to sell them, or if they'll end up giving them away for free. Either way, Salat said, "This is some food we knew from back home in Africa. And I’m so happy to be the person producing it after a long time of not getting it."