birds feed off them.’” Startled, my mom
and her cousins woke up to witness the
feast the birds were having while they
were sleeping on the job.
My mom remembers how the
rice was cultivated from when it’s first
planted to when it was served at the table. It was a very long and tiresome process but very exact.
“When the rice first flourished,
it was picked up and spread for the sun’s
energy to dry it. Afterwards it was placed
in a machine, which removed the coat
layer.”
The machine back then looked
nothing like what is used today. Men did
most of this work back in her time because they were perceived as being much
stronger while women were delicate and
not capable of doing such work. As my
mom shares this with me, I can’t help but
think how incredible something so simple as my rice and beans is done in such
a complex process, with complex roles
attached to everyone’s participation.
After a long day of cultivation,
HPAC YOUNG WRITERS REVIEW
my mom and her cousins spent hours
running behind butterflies and eating
fruits that they would find around the
forests. “I couldn’t wait for the sunset and
going down to the river, jumping around
collecting stones of different shades and
sizes.” I think back at my mom’s experience and it just makes me smile: boys
passing by on horses, sprinkling the girls
with the lukewarm clear water, and the
girls giggling as they got wet.
got the opportunity to live something I
wish I lived today, being able to learn so
much about nature but never forgetting
the importance of family. My grandparents’ purpose was not to ruin my mom’s
summer vacations but to teach what in
those days were called “everyday things.”
Today, most people pay to do programs
involving science and outdoor activities,
and it is done solo, not in a shared experience with family. My mom, on the
other hand worked helping her family
prosper and experienced life along the
way. It’s something I will always admire.
My mom describes the conclusions of these nights, the kids gathering
around my great-grandmother to hear
stories about witches and haunted houses, stories that back then were mostly passed down orally and maybe even
changed with each telling.
When I listen to my mother’s
tales about her teenage life on the family farm, my mind wanders endlessly. At
times I wish to go back and be able to feel
nature and feel the breeze of the plantations. It is fascinating to see how much
things have evolved over time and how
technology and other sources have taken that sense of simplicity and humility
between oneself and families. My mom
6 TRAIN VOLUME III: 2014–2015 | 11