16/12/09
I woke up that morning. At 4 am!!
Sungguh tidak percaya bahawa aku telah tidur dengan nyenyak, DESPITE the ‘bongol’ on my sacral spine!
AH, readers, it seemed like I was getting better and better at adapting to the life of difficulties. My rate of adaptation was accelerating at a very impressive pace, if I may say so myself.
With groggy eyes and zero breakfast and nil shower (basuh muka and gosok gigi jer) we headed to the farm. The exhaustion from yesterday’s long journey lingered on. My mood along the 30 minutes journey to Rosewood was appalling. I was worse than a bitch with PMS…sour faced all the way.
Even in my terrible mood, I was not immuned to the beauty of the landscape. The tall pine tress (nowhere to be found in Malaysia) and hopping kangaroos at both sides of the rocky track (I wouldn’t call it a road) was a balm to my wounded soul (for having to work with no breakfast).When we finally got inside the actual farm, I was quite cheerful upon first seeing the petite blue berry trees. I remember feeling quite excited to get my hands on those violet round velvets.
From 6.00 a.m to 7.00 a.m, we were busy completing the paperwork; visa number, tfn number,fill up all our bank details etc. I could see some Koreans and Chinese workers around me. I think, the Malaysians were the only ones who had decent command of the English language. The rest were struggling…but I admired their consistent perseverance at trying to communicate despite all the difficulties.
And then we were given our own row to pick blue berries from. My supervisor for that day was Betty. She showed us the best way to pick up berries. You have to put your hands together (palm up, like the Muslims would during supplication or like forming a bowl) and your fingers should roll the berries from their stem. That way, we didn’t have to actually pick the berries one by one. It was quite easy to do, really. However, you should NEVER leave the stems with the berries (unlike in the case of cherries) because it would make them rotten faster.
What’s hard was trying to get the hang of what’s considered good enough or ripe enough to be picked. Very hard to judge. Basically, anything that is too small or too red is out! However, sometimes it’s a call of judgment! Sometimes you were given a row of small berries but looked purple enough and tasted nice enough to be picked. Readers, it was really hard to judge!
THE BITCH WITH PMS
I was quite excited during the first two or three hours of working at my very first job ever! Filling a bucket was easy peasy! Basically, you need 3 buckets to fill up one tray.One tray would give you 3 kilos. And you will get AUD 3 per kilo.
But as the day progressed and the heat became too hard to bear. I began to feel really tired. I was hungry and dehydrated. I was also tired from last night’s lack of sleep! After 4 trays, I gave up. I sat on the ground with no regards to my clothes. I was THAT tired.
What made it worse was the fact that we had to carry the tray to the shed by ourselves. Were the ground as flat as my study table, it would not have been so bad. But the whole farm was quite hilly. Carrying three trays (meaning 9 kg of berries) uphill was very exhausting. Remember, dear readers, it was in the middle of summer. I was too warm, too hungry and too sleepy! The excitement of the first few hours of working had evaporated by 11.00 a.m.
I said to myself, “I am not working tomorrow. Why am I doing this? I don’t need the money. I just wanted some experience. This is my first day of work, and I have gotten all the experience I would ever need. This is it!
It felt like forever before they finally stopped us from working. We went back to the big barn. I was quietly grateful when we were given some biscuits with coffee, milo and tea. I really needed the fuel.
As usual, my mood was crappy. I whined to Wani. I told her that I didn’t feel like doing this again. I’ve had enough of this repetitive labour!!
To All Farmers…
Suddenly I missed my paternal grandfather.
You see, when I was 5 years old, I was the only one among his grandchildren who had spent a few weeks with him at his rubber estate. As a child, I was adventurous. None of my siblings had ever spent some time with him in his small wooden house in the middle of the rubber estate. Until now, I remained his favourite granddaughter. All my family members knew this as a fact and they never resented it.
My father had bought that estate for my grandfather years ago. So unlike most of the malays in that area, my grandfather was working for himself. He owned the rubber trees. But he had to sell the rubber to a Chinese middle man. So, he really did not get all that much.
He started his work at 5.00 a.m. I remember the early breakfast that he had in the small kitchen. Even as a child, I was an early riser and I was really energetic back then. I would have an early breakfast too. I would pester my grandfather to let me follow him into the early darkness of the dawn….but he never let me. He said that I could come once it got less dark and I have had my proper breakfast and shower.
As a child, I ran around the estate with my beautiful dress to collect ‘buah getah’ while my grandfather moved from one rubber tree to another, systematically going through each rows. I still remember how he carved at the tree to make the milky liquid run down the small track into the small bowl tied around the tree. Until now, I could still smell the pungent scent of the rubber.
After he had finished going through every trees, he would get back to the first tree that he he had carved that morning and started collecting the rubber liquid inside the bowl and pour them into a bigger pail. So, basically he would retrace all his steps in the first round, only this time he would be collecting the liquid instead of carving at the trees. But everytime his two pails were filled up to its fullest, he would then have to carry them to the shed situated at the other end of the estate.
Back then, I didn’t have any idea how hard that was to do. Oh, I knew my grandfather was strong. He was (still is) tall and very lean with very little fat. I thought it was just all some game. Going from one tree to another and pouring all that liquid into a pail… looked almost too easy. I used to pester him to let me help (he never let me to, of course).
After he had finished collecting the rubber from all trees, his work was not yet done. He had to process them in the shed, making them into this flat square solid. I used to hang around the shed watching the whole process. Sometimes, if I got too bored, I would be home for lunch.
Now, I was more able to appreciate all the hard work that farmers had to go through. It was labour work. It was important work! The patience that you’ve got to have to go through all these hard,physical, monotonous work is inspirational. It’s something that you have to cultivate everyday. Everyday, you have to be patient all over again. You can’t stop because you need the money!
I can only be thankful that out there, some farmers are labouring for my rice and my fruits. Being a doctor sometimes feels almost too easy! Who am I to whine?
