There Be Rice In Them There Fields

I have always found rice interesting.  I don’t know why, but it really fascinates me.  Maybe it’s that it feeds more people than any other grain, providing around 1/5  of all calories consumed world wide [citation needed].  Perhaps it’s that I find the hillside terraces of rice patties extending throughout China to be beautiful.

Seriously, Peace Corps China!

Whatever the reason, I never expected to be a rice farmer.  Yet another thing to cross off the list.  At my site we grow corn, peanuts, and rice.  Corn is the crop we depend on the most, but I think that rice is the most interesting to harvest.  Unfortunately I wasn’t around for rice planting, but I was able to help my family with rice harvest.

Unlike our corn and our peanut fields, which are in the center of our village, the rice fields are further out, maybe 2 kilometers, in the surrounding plains.  I’m not sure if you recall my earlier post about God flooding the fields, but during the rainy season these low plains flood completely, turning my village into an island in a sea of swamp.  This can make life difficult, as getting to and from site is a hassle, and that is an understatement.  I’m sure I’ll write a blog post later about the difficulties of living in a swamp and just how thoroughly depressing it is to ride through mud and water for hours. 

But on a lighter note, back to rice!  Seriously, I think rice is awesome.  We eat rice almost every day here, to the point where other peace corps volunteers swear that once they return to America they will never eat rice again.  I am not of that mindset.  I still love rice and intend to eat it often back in America.  So once the rainy season ends and the fields drain, it is harvest time for rice.  Of all the crops we grow, we harvest rice last.  First we harvest the corn, then the peanuts, and then rice last.  Basically, in order to harvest the rice people in my village go out into the fields (called paraji in pular) with hand sickles.

not as much fun as you'd think

It is very labor intensive as you have to be constantly bent over, using one hand to grab the rice stocks, and the other to cut them with the sickle.  I was at it for about an hour before I had to take a very long break.  I do not envy the life of a rice farmer.

So after cutting the rice stocks you make them into bundles and then tie them up.  When all of the rice has been harvested, then we “lappugol maaro”.  This literally means “to beat rice”.  Apparently there is an English word for it: threshing.  This is the process of removing the rice grain from the shaft.  It’s interesting how many English words that have fallen out of use because they are agrarian in nature.  I am learning a lot about the English language by comparing it with the agricultural techniques I have learned here.  But seriously, what does it mean to “till”? Apparently “ussugol” in pular means to till, but I don’t know what that really means!  Oh well. 

As I was saying, after we cut all the stocks we go about threshing them.  As I have mentioned, it is literally translated to “beating rice” so you might be asking.  But Chris! Howsoever do you thresh rice?!  I’m glad you asked.  You beat it with a stick.  Like, a really big stick.  The sticks are usually a bit taller than I am, and about the thickness of a baseball bat.

So in Pular villages there are village work days called “kile”s, when basically everyone gathers in someone’s field to help them harvest.  In reciprocity the person who is hosting the kile cooks lunch for all of the workers.  It is a good way to score a pretty good lunch.

 So in the rice threshing kiles you basically grab a few of the bundles and put them in a pile.  After this everyone who is there to help forms a circle around this pile.  We then start just wailing on the rice pile.  Apparently this creates enough force to remove the grains from the stock. 

It is quite an exercise, but can be pretty fun.  The best part of it though is the solidarity that it breeds.  To be there as one of the community, beating rice, it’s like “I’ve made it! I’m finally integrated” and you are basically one of them. 

So there I was, hitting rice with a stick, when all of a sudden one of the men there said to me “Attend! Ensemble!” Which means “wait, together!”  We then synced up out strokes so that we hit the rice at the same time.  He then started chanting along with the beat to help us keep time.  As this is going on another person shouts out “Tournez! Which means “turn!”  So now after every strike of the rice we rotate counterclockwise.  So there I was, hitting rice in time with a man chanting and singing while turning around in a circle.  I felt like I was an old fashioned sailor on a ship singing sea shanties to keep the time while heaving to (“heaving to” is a nautical term, right Ellington?  I’ve been trying to read that sailing boat you gave me).

 

4 dudes in a dhingy

It was truly a magical moment, just being a part of a community, hitting out the beat together, helping make a living.  I went to bed that night very tired, but extremely content.