We Throw Mud at Birds

Marian invited us to her rice garden. Her mother is a single parent so they all work in the garden to sell rice to make money for school fees and food. She invited us there, early this morning, and so Dad, Dora and I woke up early, got on the back of a boda-boda (motorcycle taxi) with Marian. We started out on the paved roads but the pavement doesn’t get you everywhere so as suspected, we were soon on a dusty trail through the sugar cane fields. When the bodas could go no further, Marian led us through sweet potato bushes and corn stalks up and down steep, narrow paths. Finally we see her mother and elder sister near a soggy marsh full of tall green grass. Of course, it wasn’t grass at all, it was rice and we were just in time for harvesting.

Marian’s sister showed us how they harvest their rice. She hopped down off of the dirt dam that worked as a pathway, and splashed into the ankle-deep water without shoes. She hacked away at a few stalks with a short scythe but that wasn’t what we’d be helping with. And of course I mean the “royal we” because I would be behind the camera lens. Her mother led us over the dirt dam to the other, cleared side of the muddy field to demonstrate harvesting the rice from the stalk.



For those who haven’t collected rice from the swamp, it’s strikingly familiar to wheat but with more grass leaves. It has the grains at the top, long leaves protecting it and roots in the mud. When enough stalks have been gathered up, they put them all in a big pile, grab them in bushels and beat them on a tarp to remove the grains quickly instead of pulling them off by hand.

Another important job in harvesting is keeping the birds away. There was a woman sitting on the edge of the rice pit the whole time we were there, yelling and throwing things at the birds that would come to eat the unharvested rice. I didn’t fully understand her job till I saw a well-aimed mud clot shoo away a whole group of flying thieves. Dora and I learned the important body mechanics of throwing mud on sticks. The woman, Monica, would stick some wet, red mud on the end of a long stick. It took at bit of practice to stop flinging the mud at my feet but if you imagined throwing a fishing line towards the sky, the bit of mud would fly up, land in the field and frighten away the birds. Dora got it pretty high a couple of times; I got it a few times too. One of Marian’s sisters was very good at it. Every now and then, one of the girls would let out a shrill whistle. I asked, “Why do you make noises like the birds? Wouldn’t it be better to make a noise that scares them?” I cupped my hands over my mouth and barked, low and loud like my dog, Nana, does. They were surprised when I did that. Dogs and Ugandans are not friends here.  Most Ugandans are very afraid of dogs. They said the birds aren’t afraid of dogs because they can just fly away. So we introduced them to the Southern way of getting rid of pests. It’s basically translated as, “You! Go on and get!” but when said in the proper accent, it’s pronounced, “Yongit!” (YON-geet). They thought this was lots of fun though of course, their enunciation was a little off.

We took a short break and ate blackened corn and played with the clay that remains after the rice is harvested. Then it was time to see where the rice went next. After saying our goodbyes, we followed Marian down the train tracks that led from beyond Kampala to all the way to Kenya. It was so warm that I felt like my feet were going to be steamed in my black combat boots. Finally we reach our destination, the edge of Lake Victoria. Marian’s brother was there with previously collected rice, drying it out in the sun. After a few pictures, it was back up the hill, through the corn, sugar cane and rice.

A good time was had by all, we definitely learned a lot. Marian and her wonderful family are our ticket deeper into this rich culture, one garden trip at a time.