getting to Ladakh, our neighbors part I

The drive to Chicago this past Earth Day brought us just in time to board our flight to New York, where we (that is Deb VanPoolen and I) stored our luggage, rode public transit to the Cooper Union of NYC and had an hour to eat and rest before Helena Norberg- Hodge came to speak and show a clip of her new film. A powerful speech which re-inspired me about my trip to Ladakh and learning farming methods here.

The next day we were further inspired by a visit to Democracy Now studios where Amy Goodman broadcasts each day on issues I deem important. -- Then transit for 1.5 hours and finding luggage, checking in etc. on board our longest flight. Arrived in Abu Dabi to sparkling colorful arched ceilings and Burkas and turbins abounding. After a short wait we went on to New Delhi by air, went through customs and took a shuttle to the next airport where we didn't have to wait at all to board our next flight to Leh, Ladakh on the other side of that all important, slightly large range called the Himalayas.

Today I went for a walk, allowing some tears to fall due to an full and breaking heart. These last few days the culture change, the surroundings, this powerful experience, a whirlwind is all catching up to me. Deb has been here several times before and has been a catchall for my questions, she keeps telling me it is a difficult place to be in many ways. But the view from my window, the smiles of the people, children asking where we are going as we walk to town, strangers inviting me into their kitchens for a cup of tea-- makes it worthwhile. My walk took me beside a beautiful glacial stream rushing into channels people have opened to allow water to their fields, carefully closing them off when no more water was needed, allowing their neighbors downhill to use what they need.

Speaking of neighbors, subject I have been thinking about today, our experience last week took place in the- hamlet of Ang. We stayed with the sister of a friend of Deb's who had a room to spare for us. We went on to learn the process of planting in a rural place, much that has not changed in over 500 years- lets not mention the 2 year old carrying the cell phone playing music wrapped in the top of her skirt to the middle of the field and put on a little dance, Ladakhi style!

The first day we watched somewhat baffled as three generations of women, neighbors opened channels of water to flow in a systematic way over the field, knowing when to move a rock or shift a small amount of dirt to direct the water in the way it needed to water the entire field, just using small shovels.

The next day was a supposed rest day. I think they meant for us, but they hauled manure to the freshly wet fields and left it in piles. We went out for about an hour and helped spread manure by using burlap sacks and making several large piles into many tiny piles- a young woman went behind using a shovel flinging the manure so it covered the entire field.

The next day was plowing day for- one of the young woman's family's fields with whom we had been working previous days. She and most of her family did not work with us, but prepared the meal for everyone working there. That meant, breakfast, tea, tea cakes, a huge lunch, carrying it to one of the 4 fields where we worked. First the men take turns plowing the field with a pair of Tzo's- look like hairy highland cows with horns, then following two of the strongest women use something like a pick axe but smaller and hit the large chunks of dirt and then follows me and Deb and some others with a tool that rakes the area smooth. Before all the that the seed is thrown down.

Revisions- and more coming soon!