My host father is a retired elementary school principal. It used to be his job to look after his young pupils and help foster their growth. That was four years ago, but not a lot has changed. These days the ex-principal is still handing business, but in a different school, the school of life! He splits his time as a family man, a religious leader and as a farmer with great care. It’s his role as a farmer that I find most interesting and the role that has him caring for young seedlings again. What does he farm? I’m glad you asked! To my limited knowledge, his crops of choice peanuts, corn and rice. I really don’t know what a peanut/corn/rice farmer does, so the other day I decided to follow him out into the field.
The topography here isn’t anything to write home about, but it’s very green and there is something calming about being out there, especially when no one else is around and you can enjoy the solitude.
I was standing under the shade of a tree, taking pictures of my host father bathing his
crops in chemicals and enjoying the breeze and the quiet of the moment when I first spotted them. A brigade of anak anak (children), armed with loud voices and boundless energy appeared to sprout from the very rice fields I had just trekked through. They were marching in my direction and they were closing in fast. Farewell peace and quiet, hello chaos!
It’s a given in village life that, if I venture outside during the hours between 5am to say, oh, I don’t know, 7:13pm, I will be followed by some or all of the kids on my block. It’s all harmless and I always wind up having a laugh with them, but sometimes (see ‘often’) I like going off on my own with my music in tow and think about…things. This is why I’m usually up and out of the house by 3:30am. Well, that and the Musholla speakers I mentioned in previous posts, but why beat a dead horse!? 😉