My Day in the Field

This past Saturday, I had the interesting experience of cutting rice with my counterpart/host family on a small plot of land. Before we delve into the details of the day, allow me to first set the stage.

Starting a few weeks back, my counterpart’s dad started to build a contraption to hold the rice. He built this was various scrap parts that were lying around the house. I have to admit, the final product was some inspired genius – a mixed and matched casket shaped box that looked like it might fall apart, but at the same time looked sturdy as a Great Wall. With the container built, my counterpart, his dad, and I loaded it up in the back of a truck to take it to the rice plot that was about a mile away. This is when I got my first look at the field. It was in a swampy area that had a stream running through the middle of it that acted as a natural divider of the land. As we carried the box out on the field, I had my first taste of mud in some time. Since it hasn’t rained in about a month here, I forgot about the wonders of the slimy stuff. But, since this was swampy land that was slowly drying out, it was a muddy mess.

As we left, my counterpart informed me we would be back on the following Saturday to harvest the rice. During the week, I would see my counterpart’s dad getting ready for the big day. My favorite activity was seeing him sew together bags that would eventually serve as a type of fence for the contraption (I’ll explain more later).

So, now the pieces are in place and it’s about 7:30 Saturday morning, my counterpart and I start walking out to the field. Oh, I’m also carrying my trusty machete. Upon arriving, we are greeted by my counterpart’s dad and a couple other folks who have already started. I’m given a brief tutorial on how to cut the rice. Essentially, the rice grows up in little plots. Sometime the plots have as few as 10 individual stands clumped together, other have as many of 25. The plots are scattered about a foot from each other. So, now to cut it, you grab the plot together in your hand about a foot from the ground and take your machete and cut it about six inches below that. You throw the cut rice into a pile and move onto the next plot. And on and on this goes on and on. The one catch is the further you get into the field, the more water and mud there is.

As you might imagine, it gets a bit tedious. So, there were a couple of wrinkles throughout the day that spiced things up. The first is the traditional bottle of Seco that is brought and passed around every hour or so. Seco is a dry liquor that has a taste that leaves a lot to be desired. I passed on the offer telling them I only drink beer. Another interesting activity is the yelling that occurs about once every half hour. Basically, one person lets out a scream that I don’t even know how to translate it into a typed word. I’m sorry. Come visit me and you can experience it firsthand. After that person lets his ‘grita’ (or scream) out, another person answers that call. And they go back and forth a couple times. Sometimes another person joins in as well. That’s when it really takes off. Going into the day, I knew about both of these work field traditions. However, the third one was new to me.

About an hour or so after I got there and was cutting rice, I had my back turned and was eyeing my next target. All of a sudden, I hear a loud pop. I turn around to look and see my counterpart’s 67 year old dad about to light another firecracker with a huge grin on his face. What he has is an imitation Black Cat. Suddenly there is another “pop”. He lights about four of them then scampers back to his work quickly, almost like a teenager fleeing a scene before any adults can catch him. They really love their fireworks here. On New Year’s Eve the fireworks started before midnight and went a good half hour into the New Year. These weren’t just public firework displays, but anybody who wanted to set them off. I still don’t know how the city didn’t burn to the ground. Anyhow, the fireworks went on throughout the day. It was great.

As the field was getting cut, a couple other folks were collecting the bundles that were left behind and moving them near the contraption where the rice would be removed from their stalks. This was done by taking a handful of the stalks and beating them against the crate. The crate had a couple pieces of wood going across it that would allow the rice to beaten hard enough to be separated from its protective shell. Also, there was a net that over top the wood, so that only the rice would fall into the casket like bottom. And, of course, the bags mentioned earlier helped seal the container by providing a wall that kept the rice from flying everywhere.

Doing one part of the field took pretty much the full day. By the end, I was so covered in mud that it looked like some hippie from a picture at Woodstock, only with a buzz cut though. All and all, it was an interesting day. Sure, I got a couple blisters on my hand from the machete (that’s what happens when you avoid manual labor most of your adult life!), but more importantly I got to help out the family that I’ve been staying with for the past two and a half months. Since they have been nothing but good to me, I was happy about that.

Now I gotta go clean my clothes as part II is this coming Sunday.