Waking up at 6 am on a Sunday Monday, to be honest I was not looking forward to rice harvesting. As we pulled up to the village and walked over to the rice fields and then learned that we had to deal with the rain that had come a couple days before, my feelings stayed pretty much the same. Grabbing our sickle and placing our feet into the mud all I could think about was returning to my bed. But as I started cutting and once I started to get the hang of cutting the rice stalks, I became more comfortable and in some ways quite relaxed. After 3 hours, we finished and was rewarded by an awesome lunch cooked by our friends :). The work was hard but in the end I felt quite proud of what our group accomplished.
Thinking about the work we did, I learned that normally four women do it instead of the 24 and how much they each earned per 720 sq feet. While I cannot say that I understand the life of those who harvest life, I have gain a deeper understanding and appreciation about where my rice comes from. Now I get the reasons why my parents tell me to eat every grain of rice in the bowl.
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