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Hard
labour If I felt like
this after doing the minimum, I wondered how the band of women who
laboured in the field yesterday must feel. They had not been brought
up with "nourishment" as the keyword in their daily menu;
yet, their stamina seems to be far more than I would ever have -
even if I was pumped with steroids. Today, two of the women, left
early morning to fetch the additional seed needed for the field.
They are transporting it back by bus and although we completed a
great deal of work yesterday, we still have six plots more to go...
These women
are used to hard work, and I marvelled as I watched them yesterday,
moving nimbly along the bunds in the field, carrying heavy bags
of fertilizer to sprinkle over the fields. They are as young as
I am (which is on the + side of middle age). But I wouldn't be able
to lift those bags nor run on those bunds, without falling, slush!
into the loamy soil. Walking on
the bunds has always been an enjoyable pastime for me since childhood,
and when I see children flying their kites, while running along
the bunds, I long to be young again. But let me not lose myself
in nostalgia. Those were carefree days, now it's hard labour. It has been
quite a task to get our fields planted this Yala season. Mainly
because the women want to keep the goodwill of the men in the village,
and hence,let them get away with murder. The plus factor has been
that we have got the assistance of the Agricultural Department.
They did source us some good seed, and the farmer from whom we bought
the seed, was another added bonus, because we could learn a lot
from him about the eco-system in the area, that would help the growth
of our paddy. In turn he seemed glad to have met us, because he
could learn a lot about the organic methodology and adopt it to
suit his field. We had prepared
the compost for our field, but we were short by 500kg. We turned
to the people to whom we had given our knowledge free, hoping that
they would reciprocate but some wanted us to pay even more than
the market price. Finally we negotiated a price, only to find that
the time, transport charges, and money spent on the compost was
futile. We had been duped! The land preparation
went on without a hitch. The ploughing was done to our satisfaction
and the Giricidilia leaf was placed in the field. During this time
I had to leave for Colombo to attend a meeting so I left my band
of women, with no doubt as to what they had to do next. Imagine my
consternation when I came back and found that the paddy had been
germinated but the field was not levelled and ready for sowing!
So I called the women frantically and asked what had happened. Out
popped the answer, the men who were supposed to do the field were
attending a funeral "wake"! I started off
early, the next day in a truck, which had seen better days, with
a "seeding" machine and some compost for the field. My
adrenalin was running high. It was a good day for planting. The
women had looked at the astronomical chart. The whole day was auspicious.
I arrived at
the site; three men were standing looking at the field with their
mammoties across their shoulders: they were waiting for the fourth
man. I told them I needed the job completed in a day, as the paddy
was ready to go in the field. So would they mind commencing work?
Experience has taught me to be polite but firm. The older man turned
and walked away. I refused to panic, but held my breath, while the
other two conferred and got into the field. I let my breath out
slowly. If they too had walked away, I would have been in a spot!"
At 6 p.m. we all left the field. Our feet were caked with mud. We scrubbed our feet at the tap. The women made use of a coir brush to take the mud off their skin. I realised with dismay that my toenails and finger nails were no longer pink, they were stained brown. But that was not a problem. We had achieved our target of work for the day. |
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Copyright © 2001 Wijeya Newspapers
Ltd. All rights reserved. |
and
when I did, I was amazed - ouch, all my joints seemed immobilized!
