I visited a friend’s house the other day. His mother was sifting grains of wheat. She spread a burlap sack on the hard packed earth for me to sit upon and watch her work. I’ve watched women here in India sift grains using woven palm leaf or metal mesh sifters with an expertise from years and years of practice. After awhile I indicated that I wanted to “help.”
The mother was using a large round sifter and a smaller rectangular sifter was brought out for me to use. I tried to imitate the mother’s rhythm but failed miserably. She had a technique that would bring the hulls and anything else she didn’t want to the top of the grains in her sifter by shaking it just so – not too fast, not too hard, a back-n-forth rhythmic movement. When I tried, I either shook my sifter too hard and spilled grains onto the ground or not hard enough so the extra hulls didn’t come to the surface. The mother was very kind to me and acknowledged that I didn’t have any practice sifting. She patiently let me try for about ten minutes. After I spilled too much on the ground, either when filling my sifter or with shaking it, she decided that it would be better for me to just sit and watch! I agreed whole heartedly. Women here in India have been sifting since they were little girls and their expertise shows!!!
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At my new accommodations, I watched as women carried bricks on their heads from the pile on the ground to inside the building and up two flights of stairs to the top floor. They were able to pile nine bricks on their heads by themselves! What balance and strength!! I asked if I could try to carry some bricks on my head but they just shook their heads.
…….
At the same accommodations, I befriended a couple of women. They didn’t speak Hindi, but rather Bengali. One woman had a small boy of about 3 years of age with her. I gave him some paper and a box of color crayons and taught them how to draw. At first the woman said that he couldn’t write, but after I praised him (and her) for every mark he made on the paper, they relaxed into the task. I drew pictures of the sun, a happy face, animals, and a picture of the boy. I was delighted when the woman then drew stick figure picture of a person.
After awhile, they had to get back to work. I watched them place huge containers of rice on their heads and take them into the main room. There, sitting on the floor, they began sifting through the rice tossing out the clumps of rice with (I think) insect eggs. They used the same kind of sifters, a woven palm leaf sifter and a round, metal mesh sifter. I watched for awhile as they worked determinedly, with the young boy coloring on some pieces of cardboard. And like any young child, when the small pieces of cardboard had been scribbled upon, he then began scribbling on the tiled floor!!!—to my horror!!! I shook my head, “No” and then went back to my room to find some more scrap paper for the boy. The boy’s mother and aunt didn’t seem to be bothered with him coloring on the floor, but I didn’t want my host to find that his tiled floor was now covered with magenta scribbles!!!!
The mother was using a large round sifter and a smaller rectangular sifter was brought out for me to use. I tried to imitate the mother’s rhythm but failed miserably. She had a technique that would bring the hulls and anything else she didn’t want to the top of the grains in her sifter by shaking it just so – not too fast, not too hard, a back-n-forth rhythmic movement. When I tried, I either shook my sifter too hard and spilled grains onto the ground or not hard enough so the extra hulls didn’t come to the surface. The mother was very kind to me and acknowledged that I didn’t have any practice sifting. She patiently let me try for about ten minutes. After I spilled too much on the ground, either when filling my sifter or with shaking it, she decided that it would be better for me to just sit and watch! I agreed whole heartedly. Women here in India have been sifting since they were little girls and their expertise shows!!!
……..
At my new accommodations, I watched as women carried bricks on their heads from the pile on the ground to inside the building and up two flights of stairs to the top floor. They were able to pile nine bricks on their heads by themselves! What balance and strength!! I asked if I could try to carry some bricks on my head but they just shook their heads.
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| Young boy helping to stack the bricks for the women |
At the same accommodations, I befriended a couple of women. They didn’t speak Hindi, but rather Bengali. One woman had a small boy of about 3 years of age with her. I gave him some paper and a box of color crayons and taught them how to draw. At first the woman said that he couldn’t write, but after I praised him (and her) for every mark he made on the paper, they relaxed into the task. I drew pictures of the sun, a happy face, animals, and a picture of the boy. I was delighted when the woman then drew stick figure picture of a person.
After awhile, they had to get back to work. I watched them place huge containers of rice on their heads and take them into the main room. There, sitting on the floor, they began sifting through the rice tossing out the clumps of rice with (I think) insect eggs. They used the same kind of sifters, a woven palm leaf sifter and a round, metal mesh sifter. I watched for awhile as they worked determinedly, with the young boy coloring on some pieces of cardboard. And like any young child, when the small pieces of cardboard had been scribbled upon, he then began scribbling on the tiled floor!!!—to my horror!!! I shook my head, “No” and then went back to my room to find some more scrap paper for the boy. The boy’s mother and aunt didn’t seem to be bothered with him coloring on the floor, but I didn’t want my host to find that his tiled floor was now covered with magenta scribbles!!!!
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