At the farm
A boy enjoys a day at a farm
It is morning. Sitting on the jute bed in my grand uncle and aunt’s village home, I observe the lush green pineapple fields surrounding their humble dwelling. This scenery is far from my home, with a curated front yard, a lengthy driveway, and tiled rooms with comfortable beds and chairs. But I don’t miss my home. This place is heaps better.
As I sit there, I hear the sounds of Anna, my grand-aunt, gargling. The Asian Koel’s repetitive and boisterous tune echoes in my ears, providing a pleasant distraction.
My grand uncle, Leo, soon emerges from the house in his white sarong, brushing his teeth with a twig. I am fascinated by his unique approach to dental hygiene. Anna pours water for him from an earthen pot.
Then Anna returns to the kitchen, comes over with a steel cup filled with tea, and says, “Son, have a cup of tea.” I take the cup with my hands and enjoy the warmth as I sit on the jute bed, the only bed in their small home. Anna calls Leo to come in and have his own cup of tea.
The steam from the cup disappears quickly, and I finish it within a few minutes while gazing at their vast pineapple fields. The morning sun shines brightly through the paddy fields and onto the pineapple plants.
Their home is made of dried mud and is quite tiny. It has only one room, an open fireplace, a kitchen, and no electricity. It’s much smaller than my mother’s kitchen. Despite that, there’s a big cross hanging inside the house with a nail.
Last night, Leo and I slept on the open veranda on the jute bed. We were covered in a white sheet, and I could hear the occasional sounds of wild animals.
I love the simplicity of living in their mud cottage and the earthen atmosphere in their fields. Leo takes me around the farm, showing me thousands of plants planted in rows, some with green fruits that have yet to ripen. I walk with him to every corner of his farm. Leo shows what had changed recently; which plants grew, trees earmarked to be cut down, new growth and new produce, soon to be harvested. It is damn interesting being exposed to farming and listening to him.
He also shows me the well he dug to irrigate the plants. The well is deep, and it must have taken him much hard work to dig it up. There’s another well for bathing at the bottom of the property, where it meets the open paddy fields.
As I am about to bathe, a bare-chested boy appears from nowhere and sits near the edge of the well. He offers to take me to the waterways beyond the paddy field in the afternoon. His younger brother also turns up and joins in the conversation. I strip down and enjoy the cool water from a metal bucket.
It is heaven.
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