An Honest Day's Labor (almost)
“[Something in Mayoyao],” they asked the older gentleman as he walked by on the rice terrace where we were harvesting the palay. After he responded he turned to me and said, “I told them I am done wallowing in the mud. I’ve spent 50 years wallowing in the mud, I’m 63, I think I've done my time.”
Lucky for me this is still all new and grand and I personally had a great time playing in the mud.
If my mother can be proud of one thing, I’ve always been really good at getting really dirty.
I finally got the chance to go out into the fields and experience harvesting palay. I say palay, and not rice because there are separate words for rice in the fields, palay, rice that has been milled or pounded, bagas, cooked rice, inapoy, and left over rice, kilabaan. I guess when you eat it morning, noon & night its worth your time to distinguish between what you’re actually talking about. I’m still not quite sure what happened to the morning as Papa John, two Pastor’s from the UCCP church and a Canadian who is here for a week through the church for “exposure,” all hiked out to Banhal where they were harvesting and sat on the stone patio under a native house until lunch. I don’t know if they thought we just wanted to watch, though we couldn’t actually see them working from where we were, or what, but I got in a nice nap under the large farmers hat I borrowed and then got to eat, so as it goes. Eternal patience tends to be the best tool to overcome utter confusion.
After lunch we were joined by Mama Lillian and actually went to see them harvest. A large group of people working their way through the field with a small knife in one hand cutting off the stalking and holding them in the other, then passing them over to the side of the terrace where it was bundled and hauled over to the house. Fairly simple operation but time consuming. The gender divisions were interesting too, as it was all females (but one) in doing the harvesting and I was told that the men do the bundling on the side. This means, if there are enough men, we also get to take frequent breaks back at the house as the piles build up before we go bundle again. Only now do I remember hearing that the split was necessary back in the days of tribal war because the men needed to stay home and protect the house and kids, so it was the women who brought in the harvest. Thankfully we get to help at least some now.
James appeared to be the one nominally in charge because I think his family owns the fields. He also was kind enough to show me the ropes of how all this was supposed to work. Not only did he show me, but he actually let me try bundling one, which isn’t exactly rocket surgery, but so far I haven’t found very many people who will actually let me dive in and get dirty. Mostly I just helped stacking the palay for the bundler and then started fetching it from the people in the fields. This was the really fun part as I got to trudge bare-foot through the often calf deep mud and amuse everyone in the general vicinity. I only ended up working for three hours tops, but even this seemed to amazes people. Mama Lillian and the crew took off about half way through and were surprised that I wanted to stay and everyone kept asking me if I was tired. I felt like they thought I hadn’t done an honest days labor in my life, which on reflection probably isn’t such a far off assumption with a large number of Americans, especially those who are going to go running off to the Peace Corps. Detassling corn and working construction has paid off once again.
Days like today, and all my summers at ASP, remind me how valuable spending my high school days in a small farming community in IA has paid off. Often times I like to see life as collecting experiences and skills. Partly because I greatly enjoy new experiences and seeing as much of the world as I can, partly a bit of the classic American self-reliance bit, but also a large part because I am able to relate to such a large number of people that way. You would be surprised how far carrying on a conversation about the pros and cons of square vs. round bailing of hay can get you in Scott County, TN. And I’ve only bailed hay once (I was a scrawny 100 lbs high schooler at the time), but now I know first hand exactly how much back breaking work it takes and can relate to another group of people. Here I’m drawing on ever scrap of basketball skills I’ve acquired (which isn’t much) as well as a little volleyball to help get to know some of the youth. I’m also thankful for every time I chewed tobacco at ASP, which is disgusting in itself but worked wonders there as well and the skill doubles quite nicely to chewing moma here. I guess that’s a bit part of why I’m here, acquiring new experiences, and there are plenty of them. It helps to be reminded of that sometimes as I still feel lost as to what exactly I’m going to do here and how development is supposed to look. One day at a time though, and today was a good day of honest work. Especially caring “my share,” i.e. a large bag of palay, the few clicks up the hill on my back. Its all about the new experiences…
Lucky for me this is still all new and grand and I personally had a great time playing in the mud.
If my mother can be proud of one thing, I’ve always been really good at getting really dirty.
I finally got the chance to go out into the fields and experience harvesting palay. I say palay, and not rice because there are separate words for rice in the fields, palay, rice that has been milled or pounded, bagas, cooked rice, inapoy, and left over rice, kilabaan. I guess when you eat it morning, noon & night its worth your time to distinguish between what you’re actually talking about. I’m still not quite sure what happened to the morning as Papa John, two Pastor’s from the UCCP church and a Canadian who is here for a week through the church for “exposure,” all hiked out to Banhal where they were harvesting and sat on the stone patio under a native house until lunch. I don’t know if they thought we just wanted to watch, though we couldn’t actually see them working from where we were, or what, but I got in a nice nap under the large farmers hat I borrowed and then got to eat, so as it goes. Eternal patience tends to be the best tool to overcome utter confusion.
After lunch we were joined by Mama Lillian and actually went to see them harvest. A large group of people working their way through the field with a small knife in one hand cutting off the stalking and holding them in the other, then passing them over to the side of the terrace where it was bundled and hauled over to the house. Fairly simple operation but time consuming. The gender divisions were interesting too, as it was all females (but one) in doing the harvesting and I was told that the men do the bundling on the side. This means, if there are enough men, we also get to take frequent breaks back at the house as the piles build up before we go bundle again. Only now do I remember hearing that the split was necessary back in the days of tribal war because the men needed to stay home and protect the house and kids, so it was the women who brought in the harvest. Thankfully we get to help at least some now.
James appeared to be the one nominally in charge because I think his family owns the fields. He also was kind enough to show me the ropes of how all this was supposed to work. Not only did he show me, but he actually let me try bundling one, which isn’t exactly rocket surgery, but so far I haven’t found very many people who will actually let me dive in and get dirty. Mostly I just helped stacking the palay for the bundler and then started fetching it from the people in the fields. This was the really fun part as I got to trudge bare-foot through the often calf deep mud and amuse everyone in the general vicinity. I only ended up working for three hours tops, but even this seemed to amazes people. Mama Lillian and the crew took off about half way through and were surprised that I wanted to stay and everyone kept asking me if I was tired. I felt like they thought I hadn’t done an honest days labor in my life, which on reflection probably isn’t such a far off assumption with a large number of Americans, especially those who are going to go running off to the Peace Corps. Detassling corn and working construction has paid off once again.
Days like today, and all my summers at ASP, remind me how valuable spending my high school days in a small farming community in IA has paid off. Often times I like to see life as collecting experiences and skills. Partly because I greatly enjoy new experiences and seeing as much of the world as I can, partly a bit of the classic American self-reliance bit, but also a large part because I am able to relate to such a large number of people that way. You would be surprised how far carrying on a conversation about the pros and cons of square vs. round bailing of hay can get you in Scott County, TN. And I’ve only bailed hay once (I was a scrawny 100 lbs high schooler at the time), but now I know first hand exactly how much back breaking work it takes and can relate to another group of people. Here I’m drawing on ever scrap of basketball skills I’ve acquired (which isn’t much) as well as a little volleyball to help get to know some of the youth. I’m also thankful for every time I chewed tobacco at ASP, which is disgusting in itself but worked wonders there as well and the skill doubles quite nicely to chewing moma here. I guess that’s a bit part of why I’m here, acquiring new experiences, and there are plenty of them. It helps to be reminded of that sometimes as I still feel lost as to what exactly I’m going to do here and how development is supposed to look. One day at a time though, and today was a good day of honest work. Especially caring “my share,” i.e. a large bag of palay, the few clicks up the hill on my back. Its all about the new experiences…
posted by george at 5:00 PM
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