To give you better insight into life in the rice fields of Iran, a short video accompanies this blog. This may be normal every day life for the people here but it’s a completely new experience for me. In Britain, we don’t have rice fields.
It’s my third day in Taromsar and I venture out on my own to wander the dirt tracks lining the rice fields. I stop to watch the women working. It looks a painful job but I want to help. I want to know what it feels like to be a woman of the rice fields.
I call out ‘Salam’ which means ‘Hello’ in Farsi. The women reply with the only English word they know; ‘Goodbye’.
I persevere calling over that I want to help. They don’t understand. I take off my shoes and step into the rice field, my feet squishing in the mud. The women have stopped working and are watching me, their mouths open and faces a mixture of astonishment and confusion. I love the feeling of the warm mud as I walk towards them and upon reaching, I pick up a handful of rice shoots. Without saying a word, I begin sticking them into the mud just as I had watched them do. And that was that. Everyone returns to work and I’m in the field planting rice with them.
It doesn’t take long for my back to cause me debilitating pain, from being bent over. I retreat to Mrs Mohmeni’s house dirty and sore, my conscience heavy, knowing I’m leaving behind a pregnant woman still working. At 8 pm that night, I’m shocked to see they are still in the field, even though family members have now joined in the task. When home time does arrive, I watch with fascination as bare footed men and funny looking vehicles pass me by. I’m struck by how happy and cheerful the women are as they pass and I think of the many workers back home in the UK, leaving their offices, heads bowed with frowns on their faces.
What is a funny looking vehicle to my eyes is a normal sight in the rice fields of Taromsar.
Watch this short video:
Thanks for sharing the journey! WBG. xxx