Mud Sweat and Tears
During the rainy season, the rain seems to have no end. It begins with drizzle for the first few minutes before turning into a constant downpour. This particular day was no exception. It had been pouring for hours, and water filled every pothole and hollow of the uneven dirt road, so that the once rock-hard red dirt was now slippery, red mud. Our four-wheel-drive Toyota with a big green sticker of people holding hands—Adventist Development and Relief Agency’s (ADRA) logo—was going nowhere.
“It’s time to put on the chains!” said Apu, the project assistant for the Sop Moei Agriculture Project, in Thailand, as he stepped out to retrieve the 20-kg bag of wheel chains.
“Many times I’ve watched you put on those chains,” I said. “I think it’s time I helped you put them on.”
Dragging the heavy bag to the front wheel on my side of the vehicle in the rain drained half my energy, but I managed. Soon my hands and clothing were covered in mud. I was thankful that I wasn’t attempting this on my own.
How would it be if Apu weren’t with me? I murmured to myself, before jumping to my feet with a feeling of satisfaction for a job well done.
“I’ve finished, Apu.” I said, standing. I was surprised that the more proficient Apu hadn’t finished fixing the chains to his wheels. I guessed that as cautious person, he probably wanted to make sure of his work.
Soaked to the skin, but washed clean by the rain, we climbed aboard. Apu engaged low range, then in first gear, we drove on. The vehicle rattled and shook for about 10 metres. It didn’t sound good. “My” wheels were making strange noises.
I looked at Apu, as he stopped again, and with a look of resignation, opened his door. We both knew there was something very wrong with the way I’d done the job. We got out. The problem was quite obvious: I’d not locked the chains. I felt very silly, as I was his boss.
Apu fixed the chains and we drove on. Slipping and sliding, we finally arrived at the Sop Moei project nursery, where I was director. The young plants were bright green and healthy, growing rapidly in the ample rain and tropical warmth.
Here in Thailand, water is life. Rain means having food and even a small income, because during the rainy season, the villagers harvest an excess of vegetables, bamboo shoots and fish.
Yebor, a nursery worker, took us to see his own garden nearby. It contained corn, which was ripening. He also had a seaweed pond. Yebor, like many of the local farmers, practised methods he’d learned at the nursery, and purchased its seedlings.
Having completed our inspection, Apu and I drove to the village of Huai Kratai, one of many villages to receive the nursery’s fruit trees. We wanted to see how they were handling those plants and if they found them useful in their plantation. It’s gratifying to visit a village and see people using what they’ve learned in the ADRA nursery.
Knowing that families who’d once lived on the edge of subsistence would soon be reaping profits, made me just a little proud, fulfilling, as we were, ADRA’s mission of changing lives, one at a time, for the better.
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