Cutting the Bamboo

We now have three properties in the countryside: our country house, a durian orchard, and a bean farm. Each is about 10 rai (a little less than 4 acres) and they are all within 4 km of each other. Poo is always dreaming up projects, such as building a bamboo hut; she loves to work, unlike me.

Yesterday I was peacefully sipping my morning coffee and enjoying my delightful book, A History of Pi, when Poo brought my breakfast.

"Thanks, Poo."

"Mick, today I need you to work. We need to cut the bamboo. Get ready to be a slave."

Uh-oh. I'm really not cut out for this backbreaking farm work.

As it turned out, my "slavery" wasn't so bad. There were only two machetes, so Poo's father and brother did most of the cutting. I just had to clear some brush and carry the bamboo poles to the truck. I also had to watch.

"Watch how my father cuts the bamboo," Poo instructed, "so next time you can do it yourself."

Cutting bamboo is not as easy as it sounds. The bamboo stands are so thick and entangled that you cannot cut the bamboo at the bottom because you won't be able to pull it out. So, you must climb 10 meters up into the bamboo and and swing the machete where the bamboo starts thinning out. It looks like dangerous, grueling, specialist work to me. Next time, I think I will buy a chainsaw.

This morning I feared more "slavery" but I was rescued by Thun and Jason who were begging to go to the internet shop to play games. I selflessly volunteered to take them.

Childcare has saved me from agricultural serfdom!