Organized team work or just fun?

The recent cyclonic rains brought a lot of sand into local creeks from the surrounding hills. As soon as the rains stop, local people line up to “steal” this sand to use for their own construction purposes or sell it, illegally of course. Our landlord jumped into the fray and had a load of sand hauled last week, and got it piled up in front of the house. He had brought a sieve too. A day later his daughter L got interested in the sieve and started scooping the sand and sifting it, all on her own. She worked, with tremendous focus, for several hours.  Mind you this is heavy work.

She is 13, a rich village girl, who goes to an English medium private school.  Usually most of her time is spent at school or tuition classes. Thus I have never seen her “doing” anything in the last two years that we have been here.  

Thanks to the rains, the schools have been closed for a month now.  While L was at work, the other kids at first just hung around and then slowly started joining her one by one until all six were busy. They have been working together for a day now. As I was observing this from my upstairs balcony, these were the words that came to my mind – harmonious, productive, efficient, self-organizing, co-operative and seamless.

Their assembly-line operation had the following steps:

• Spread the wet sand on the road because dry sand can be sifted more efficiently. Make sure there is a constant supply of dry sand for pick up.
• Scoop the dried sand with a hoe and dump it into a receptacle
• Dump the contents of the receptacle onto the sieve. Maximize the sieving efficiency by constantly bringing the non-sieved portion to the top of the inclined sieve with a curved broken tile 
• Collect the sieved sand and dump into separate pile

I got to hear some snippets of their conversations:

•  “It will be difficult for them to work without us. We need to get back soon” (during their lunch break)
• “We can’t afford to take long breaks. We have a lot of work to do.”
• “It is 2 p.m. now. Can we stop at 6? What do you think?”
• “Hey, you take up my job now. I will do yours for some time”

They were working independently and also as a team, rotating their jobs, maximizing efficiency, minimizing wastage, planning the next stage, getting good exercise and most important of all having fun. 

Now to contrast this with what I have typically seen here, when the schools are in session:

School lasts for approximately 7 hours, mostly six days a week. Most of the kids have a one hour before-school tuition and one hour after-school tuition class. Evenings are devoted to homework and a bit of TV. Sometimes, on Sundays, the six kids in our street get together to play. Mostly their games would end abruptly, in an unpleasant manner. The reasons being  -- lying, bickering, cheating and hitting.  It was as if they needed more time and continuity to be able to even play amicably.

Had I not seen what happened today, I would have never believed that this set of kids could work together. If our society can offer children the luxury of time, won’t there be more opportunities for them to do meaningful work, participate in and contribute to what is happening around them?

-- Hema

Only In India (most probably)

I was on a bus to the nearby town of Sholingur. The bus was approaching a  busy T-junction. The road was wide enough to accommodate two buses going side by side, with just a few inches between them. Drivers here are quite adept at calculating their safe margin.

As we were getting closer to the T, our bus had to pass another one waiting on the other side. The observant driver spotted an arm jutting out from the other bus that would hinder his manoeuvres. This was the right arm of a young girl, probably in her mid-teens, who had fallen sleep during the bus ride.

My anxiety was growing as our bus was getting closer.  But the driver, maintaining a  “safe distance”, applied the brake, extended his arm out the window and casually tapped that protruding arm. That must have scared the girl out of her wits. She reflexively pulled her arm in letting our bus pass comfortably. Releasing the brake, our bus driver moved on as if this was nothing to write home about!

***

 

We were in Dev’s hometown Agra, visiting his relatives. Agra is a small town that is full of people and traffic jams. The ever-crowded bazaars have pedestrians, cycles, horse-drawn carts, manual- rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, flat-bed-rickshaws, small trucks and of course cars. Sometimes, one can find a herd of buffaloes too! 

Typically men in this town chew tobacco when they are not eating or sleeping. So, invariably they can be seen spitting out a red liquid every once in a while. I have always been nervous of the moment when someone would accidentally spit on me, since the probability of that happening seemed high.

On a busy market day, I was walking the bazaar street and was about to pass a person who had already initiated the process of spitting. It is easy guess that by the way their bodies bend a little forward, ready to launch with a full mouth. I had no way of stepping back or forward or sideways without getting spat on. There I was, facing my nightmare! I shrieked, “bhaiya! Stop!” The interrupted spitter was taken aback and he looked up. I grabbed the opportunity and quickly went ahead by just a few steps gesturing to him to wait till I go past him. With his mouth still full, he gestured to me saying that I can go. Once I was at a safe distance I saw him spat. I thanked him for having waited for me and asked him to look before he leaps the next time. His smile was priceless.

-- Hema

Their Honest Opinions

After purchasing our agricultural land, we decided to spend a few days camping at our neighbour’s farm. The facilities were quite basic – one big room with a leaky roof, no furniture, no shelves and no toilet/bathroom. We used the rocket stove, which we had built earlier, to cook our meals. Learning to keep the fire going was not easy for me. The first day, I served breakfast at lunch time, despite the fact I started cooking very early. Thankfully the kids were quite patient with me. They said, “This is real camping!”

As I was sweating over one such meal preparation, a lady showed up at the door to check us out. She asked me a lot of questions. Apparently she had come to know that the adjacent land had just recently been bought by foreigners. So she was eager to come and meet the foreigners. When I told her that it was we who had bought the land she immediately said, “I am quite disappointed that the new owners are not foreigners. I wanted to talk to some foreigners. And here you are, the new owners, talking in Tamil!”

This lady had walked a kilometer in the sweltering heat, just to be able to get a glimpse of some foreigners. I felt sorry for her. I didn’t know how I could assuage her disappointment. I was frantically raking my brain for ideas. It suddenly occurred to me that she might cheer up if she hears some English. So I asked her if she would like me to talk in English. Her face lit up and she nodded happily.

I called Abhi and explained the situation to him. I asked him to play along in English for a few moments. He obliged, but with a puzzled look on his face. The next few minutes of our conversation in English brought a smile on the lady’s face and that was apparently enough for her to head back happily in the hot sun.

***

The inquisitive care-taker of a neighbouring coconut grove stopped me on my way to the farm one evening.

He: “What exactly do you do there, on your land?”

Me: “I am planting trees”

He: “I have seen you carry saplings uprooted from the creek side. Is that what you are planting?”

I nodded enthusiastically.

He: “But they are useless plants. Why are you wasting your time? Why don’t you grow some cash crops?”

I didn’t want to brush aside the curiosity behind his questions. So I told him a bit about natural farming, bio-mass producing local trees, mulch, permaculture etc.

He: “You seem to show the way to places that no one wants to go to. Anyway, what about your income and expenses?”

Me: “Both my husband and I do not have jobs now. We are living off our savings and trying to keep our expenses low. We do a lot of the farm work ourselves.”

He: “I understand that you might be able to pull it off. But your husband ... hmm ... he is too old for that.”

Me: (shockingly) “Oh no! You are mistaken. We are pretty much of the same age. Gray hair is hereditary in his family. ”

He: “I feel sorry for you. You have been fooled.”

I laughed my lungs out and started walking my way.

-- Hema

Oh Senna siamea, Thank You!

About a quarter acre of our land is devoid of top soil. Locals told us that the previous land owner had sold the top soil from that patch, about 10 years ago. We used to call that area “the bald patch”. The soil here is heavy clay. In fact we used this subsoil for our earthbag construction project, by excavating a shallow pond.

Every time I was near the bald patch, I felt a pinching pain to see a place so dead as that. Since we didn’t have a water source close by, I couldn’t attempt to green that area. Then came the monsoon rains and the shallow pond was full. In November I transplanted a small Senna siamea plant (hardly ½’) on one of the edges of the bald patch. It was just an experiment.

Senna siamea is a fast growing (leguminous) tree that will grow in a range of climatic conditions but is particularly suited to lowland tropics with a monsoon climate. It belongs to the family of Fabaceae. I was interested in this tree mainly because of the prolific bio-mass that it produces, which can be used as mulch. I had seen these trees grow in uncultivated areas, like along the creek. I didn’t know if it would survive in our bald patch that is quite unlike the creek sides.

The little S. siamea didn’t have much of a shock from the crude transplantation that I did. I was worried if the heavy clay would allow any air exchange to happen. But the plant didn’t seem to care. It started putting out new leaves and I was the happiest person in the world. Some days, during the monsoon, the downpour caused severe erosion. I was worried if the little S. siamea would be able to hold on to its dear life. But the plant had very little problem. It continued growing happily. The monsoon ended in mid-December.

I was watering it for the next two months, manually carrying water from the pond. The S. siamea continued doing well. It in fact put out a new branch! I was jumping in joy. The dry spell started and by mid-February the shallow pond had dried up completely. This meant that I had to carry water and walk for about 5 minutes from the manual (hand) pump, to water this plant. I couldn’t obviously do it as often as I wanted to. So, the next two months was more or less a dry spell for the little plant. But this didn’t abate its growth. I was quite amazed by its resilience but was also concerned about the upcoming summer heat for the plant.

Fortunately, this month we had about 15 cm. of summer rain. The S. siamea continues to thrive and is now a handsome 3’ tall young tree. Watching this plant’s growth has been a phenomenal spiritual learning experience for me. It was as if the plant was speaking to me, saying:

“No top soil?

Not a problem. Here I will toil.

Heavy clay?

That is okay.

Roots get very little air?

I don’t care.

Soil erosion?

Tightly I will hold on.

Too much rain?

I just am fine.

Too little water?

Can’t deter (me).

I continue to be happy as can be.”

Thank you, my dear little S. siamea. I will remember this during difficult times.

-- Hema