All day long in the “garden” that our kitchen window overlooks, we hear the sound of clapping. Agnes and Akolimpe are “watching” their rice. Though Agnes and Akolimpe claim to be in their eighties (and it’s believable) they still work fulltime at subsistence. That’s the thing about subsistence, it has a way of not being there for you when you need it most.
So, over the weeks/months, Agnes and Akolimpe help to slash and clear their garden space, remove weeds, and plant rice. We watch it all eagerly from our yard and window. To every part there is a method. Now, as the rice reaches maturity over the last several weeks, looking every bit like tall weedy grass, they must watch it closely to prevent its’ theft by the bird and the rat. So, from sunup to sundown you will find one or both, sitting in their little makeshift banana leaf shelter, or walking up and down among the rice clapping and throwing rocks.
They take meals in that little shelter, about the size of a hall closet, and rest there when their old bones need a break from the walking and throwing. These elderly people are unbelievable. I can still remember the day that David arrived home from a visit next door to say incredulously ” do you realize that Akolimpe has six pack abs?!”
A few days ago we walked the little garden path beyond our fence to join them in the muchelle (rice). “Tulli mu!”( you’re welcome) they said, astonished by our wonder at something so ordinary as rice. For those of you, like us, who have always assumed that rice was a) only grown in Asia in bogs or b) manufactured in cities - we want to share . . . Rice is grown and harvested like any other grain. The mature plant is tall, skinny and looks like a weaker version of corn. It has long strands of seed heads, filled with the little grains of rice. You watch for these seed heads to become brown and then pluck them to harvest. After this you must remove the seed heads from the strands, dry them, beat them, and clean them, before selling them.
We all enjoyed the chance to pick rice and the added cultural experience of observing Akolimpe in his garden with some of his many grandchildren. Most enlightening was watching them relate. They disrespected him by running through the rice, endangering the mature heads which fall when jostled, wasting precious food. Consequences for bad behavior here seem to be limited in creative possibilities. Akolimpe simply threw his fist sized rocks at the kids.
The little garden path

harvesting rice
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