Caution: Rice Paddys Ahead

In an effort to check an item off the bucket list, I mentioned to Jonas that I’d like to see “the fish pond” this morning. This mysterious fish pond is discussed often, and I was anxious to move it from mythical status to the “places I’ve been” column. It seemed simple enough. I even thought I might do laundry after.

Our plans to go immediately following church (at noon) turned into inviting the girls to go after chores…then lunch…then feeding the dogs…then peeling potatoes for pilau dinner…until it was 4:30 and time to go if we were going to make it back by sunset.

So, a small group of 23 of us set off for what I thought would be a little stroll.

Caution: Rice Paddys Ahead

It’s rainy season, so the fields are full of mini-lakes, trapped by tilled dirt on four sides. This stretches for kilometers around us. It’s actually quite beautiful, with mountains in the background and a big blue sky overhead.

What this means for us is that “a little stroll” just became a bit more serious.

Our group separates as the older girls move ahead, the younger ones competing to hold my hands, two at a time. Before I realize it, I’m the last one, with Yuge and Pendo on either side. I look ahead and see all the girls in a row, brightly colored skirts and pigtails in every direction, navigating the rice paddys.

There are patches where the ground is mostly mud with only a few dry places to step. As we hop from dry dirt clod to dry dirt clod, I make a fatal error assuming these islands of refuge will hold up under my weight the same as they do for the younger girls. As I jete to my next island, it gives way, and I am instantly sprawled out inside the rice paddy. Judging from the smell, it’s not just mud that I’m marinating in.

For those of you who have seen “Anne of Green Gables,” (and if you haven’t, stop reading this, rent it, watch it, and then come back…) it’s like the scene where Anne and Diana chase the cow…except there was no hunky Canadian named Gilbert at the end of the rice paddy. Instead, a chorus of “pole!!” (sorry) from the girls only adds to my embarrassment.

I’m covered in mud and…I don’t want to think about what else!

Casualties: my dress, right flip flop (a travesty—I wear these every day), and my pride.

Five minutes later, we make it to the fish pond, and the girls decide to wade across it…some more successfully than others. Their faces are jubilant at the novelty of it all…then register genuine terror when a fish jumps out of the water. They make their way through the “pond” with skirts lifted high…just not high enough to stay dry. Of course, they are all sopping wet when they emerge on the other side.

And so, we make our way back home. Pilau, our special Sunday meal, awaits us when we return.

Yonga gives me a series of gifts as we walk back…a Disney princess band-aid previously covering a cut on her ear, her shoes, and now her shirt—CLEARLY superfluous but for no apparent reason. As she marches down the dirt road with a defiant gait, I discover our almost-baby (only Nellie is her junior) has learned to roll her eyes. What will be terribly unappealing in a few years is simultaneously hilarious and adorable today.