Rice, Rice, Rice

There is a linguistic anthropological theory that says the more words you have for something the more important it is. That’s why in Michigan, we know the difference between sleet, hail, powder, packing snow, slush, flurries, snow, ice, and black ice. After all, it would be hard for a Nepali, or even a Southern to point out the difference. Here in Nepal, rice has the same kind of importance. There are well over 27 varieties of rice that I alone am aware of. Additionally, the Nepali language has a separate word for seed rice (what you plant in the ground), un-cooked rice, and cooked rice. Not only that, but even the general word for food is used as a synonym for….yep, you guessed it, rice. Rice is a big deal around here.

And as the monsoon finally gets started around here, the rice planting season is also beginning. Rice planting festivals seem to be happening every other week in one place or another, and farming families are calling neighbors and friends to help them get their rice paddies planted in time. This year, Buffalo and I were lucky enough to be invited by a friend to help plant their fields, and to engage in the most popular activity of rice planting season: playing in the mud. And trust me, there’s usually a lot of mud to play in during the monsoon.


So last Saturday afternoon, we headed over to our friend’s field to plant rice and make a little trouble. Not surprisingly, I learned a little about farming rice in the process. The first I learned was that rice plants are originally planted and grown in a very small area, usually only a corner of the total field. Then when the plants get to be about a foot tall, usually right around the beginning of the monsoon, they need to be spread out across the entire field. This is where the real rice planting begins. The farmers first pull the seedlings out of the ground and gather them in bundles. Then the men plough the fields, and if there’s enough water, flood them. Once the field resembles a swimming pool, the women go to work, re-planting the seedlings in neat rows across the entire field. Now the rice will enjoy the heavy rainfall for four months, after which, we’ll be heading back to our friend’s fields to help with the harvesting.

Sadly, and to our great disappointment, the rains and the electricity were not in our favor this year. There wasn’t enough water to flood the fields properly, which really cut down on our ability to have the full out mud wars we were planning. In the south of Nepal, the fields get flooded to about two feet of water and the newspaper is always full of pictures of boys and girls splashing around and throwing huge mud balls at each other. But Buffalo and I will have to save that for another year. All the same, it was great fun to spend the day working, playing and learning with friends.

All the same, I have to admit, I was pretty thankful that our friend’s field was rather small, and I can’t imagine how hard it would be to plant the large fields I’ve seen in the terai (south) when I was working there. On the other hand, the rice beer the other women forced on us, sure did seem to dull my aching back at the end of the day, and the tasty treats they fed us didn’t hurt either. Overall, it was a great time, and we are both looking forward to the harvest, and to getting a big plate of that delicious rice!

Oh, and Buffalo and I are shopping for plane tickets now, so not to worry, we’ll be there before you know it.

So much love you’d need a dozen elephants to carry it!