The next field trip
This is an experience that happened only once in my life (better that way). Now when I think about it, it all seems so unreal and weird to me, and funny too. I am referring to my first (and last) ever so-called field trip (or tour, rather) to my grandparents' village. These are my mother's parents, long dead anyway. My mom had never been to that village in a long long while and we had never been to any place called a village, so we all were very eager to go.
My idea of an ideal village goes like this. I always imagined a village to be lush green, with lots of paddy fields and little streams everywhere. I also thought about a village with a river, lots of ponds or lakes, and places where you can play in the water. I agree I am crazy about playing in water. To think I don't know to swim anyway. My imagination is typical of any Tamil movie that has a village scene in it. They do wonders with camera and photography; the villages always look lovely and fresh and beautiful.
The first biggest mistake we made when we set out for our village tour is that we went during our vacation in summer. Summer in villages mean no water. No water in villages mean no water in rivers, or streams or canals. And this means no paddy fields. We drove in our car, and as we got close to the village we were supposed to go, this point never sunk in my head. Everywhere I looked the land was barren, and there were lots of wild bushes and plants that normal fields don't have, and I was wondering what was wrong with the fields.
We had to cross a bridge built across a small river. The relatives with whom we went kept on saying that the river is usually full with water and every kid is out playing in the river. Since we came in summer, we are missing a lot of fun. When I looked at the river, it was dry....dry as in dry dry. I couldn't believe that the river could ever have seen water, except when it rains, if it ever rains, that is. That is when my enthusiasm of visiting a village dropped.
The second biggest mistake was that me and my sister were wearing shorts and t-shirts. Girls, never ever wear such clothes when you go to a village. We both were the "talk of the town", sorry, "village". Everywhere we went, a whole bunch of kids were there to gape at our clothes and I tell you, I was so scared I stuck like a blood-sucker to my mother.
The village was a small one, might have had about 200 families or so. We saw a live show of the "panchayat", where elders of the village gather under a real banyan tree to discuss problems of the village. My dad attended the panchayat that gathered that day. We kids were not allowed to interfere, so we watched the whole show from someone's house's balcony. Incidently, that was the only house that we went to that had a proper toilet.
Speaking of toilets, I did mention that only one house had a proper toilet. We were put up in one of my mom's relatives' place for the night and they had another toilet...a toilet that was a corner of a tree, where a small room was made with walls, made from coconut leaves. I am not saying anything more.
I mentioned earlier that we went in the summer. Summer is no-water season. The river had dried and people in that village had to walk more than two kilometers to fetch water for use at home. It was really sad to see people walk such a long distance for a couple of times to get water daily. Mom was always watching us when we used water to wash our hands and stuff; she didn't want us to waste even a drop.
Sleeping that night was disaster. No fan, and the hand-fans weren't of much use to put us to sleep. The minute someone stopped fanning us, we woke up. Add to the fan problem, there were mosquitos! We left the next morning. We never went there again. I don't think I will ever want to go. Even if I did, I will surely look in here again to do make sure I don't make the same mistakes my parents did when they took me first time.
My idea of an ideal village goes like this. I always imagined a village to be lush green, with lots of paddy fields and little streams everywhere. I also thought about a village with a river, lots of ponds or lakes, and places where you can play in the water. I agree I am crazy about playing in water. To think I don't know to swim anyway. My imagination is typical of any Tamil movie that has a village scene in it. They do wonders with camera and photography; the villages always look lovely and fresh and beautiful.
The first biggest mistake we made when we set out for our village tour is that we went during our vacation in summer. Summer in villages mean no water. No water in villages mean no water in rivers, or streams or canals. And this means no paddy fields. We drove in our car, and as we got close to the village we were supposed to go, this point never sunk in my head. Everywhere I looked the land was barren, and there were lots of wild bushes and plants that normal fields don't have, and I was wondering what was wrong with the fields.
We had to cross a bridge built across a small river. The relatives with whom we went kept on saying that the river is usually full with water and every kid is out playing in the river. Since we came in summer, we are missing a lot of fun. When I looked at the river, it was dry....dry as in dry dry. I couldn't believe that the river could ever have seen water, except when it rains, if it ever rains, that is. That is when my enthusiasm of visiting a village dropped.
The second biggest mistake was that me and my sister were wearing shorts and t-shirts. Girls, never ever wear such clothes when you go to a village. We both were the "talk of the town", sorry, "village". Everywhere we went, a whole bunch of kids were there to gape at our clothes and I tell you, I was so scared I stuck like a blood-sucker to my mother.
The village was a small one, might have had about 200 families or so. We saw a live show of the "panchayat", where elders of the village gather under a real banyan tree to discuss problems of the village. My dad attended the panchayat that gathered that day. We kids were not allowed to interfere, so we watched the whole show from someone's house's balcony. Incidently, that was the only house that we went to that had a proper toilet.
Speaking of toilets, I did mention that only one house had a proper toilet. We were put up in one of my mom's relatives' place for the night and they had another toilet...a toilet that was a corner of a tree, where a small room was made with walls, made from coconut leaves. I am not saying anything more.
I mentioned earlier that we went in the summer. Summer is no-water season. The river had dried and people in that village had to walk more than two kilometers to fetch water for use at home. It was really sad to see people walk such a long distance for a couple of times to get water daily. Mom was always watching us when we used water to wash our hands and stuff; she didn't want us to waste even a drop.
Sleeping that night was disaster. No fan, and the hand-fans weren't of much use to put us to sleep. The minute someone stopped fanning us, we woke up. Add to the fan problem, there were mosquitos! We left the next morning. We never went there again. I don't think I will ever want to go. Even if I did, I will surely look in here again to do make sure I don't make the same mistakes my parents did when they took me first time.
posted by Grace at 4:01 PM
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