Today I dug dirt.
Side by side with 23 girls. We weeded the garden, turned soil, made mounds and ditches, and planted spinach.
You like digging? they ask.
Yes, I have a garden at home.
What do you grow? they wonder.
And I give them the list
Ooh they say with interest.
The dirt is fertile and rich, black red in color and soft to the touch. It takes a while to recognize the weeds from the greens but Priscillah and Agnes patiently teach me and my hands soon work as quickly as theirs.
The girls laugh at me when they see me fling a bag of weeds over my shoulder to take to the cow (nothing wasted). A white woman doing hard work. They stop laughing by my third trip.
They hand me a hoe and with the last remaining girls I begin to make the final mounds. Rows of high dirt between walking valleys of low. The digging is hard and steady. Soon the mounds are tall enough to smooth over, and create divits for planting.
We water the holes and seperate old spinach patches to use as new starters. Same same over and over until all the holes hold new life. We water once again.
Mercy comes to watch me. She has never planted, but today she will learn.
My feet and fingers turn red like the soil. My body and soul (finally working) rejoice. I think about my garden at home. It will be three more months before I can dig and plant. I think about these plants soon to nourish these girls.
Yes, I like digging, I think. It is good to grow your own food.
Side by side with 23 girls. We weeded the garden, turned soil, made mounds and ditches, and planted spinach.
You like digging? they ask.
Yes, I have a garden at home.
What do you grow? they wonder.
And I give them the list
Ooh they say with interest.
The dirt is fertile and rich, black red in color and soft to the touch. It takes a while to recognize the weeds from the greens but Priscillah and Agnes patiently teach me and my hands soon work as quickly as theirs.
The girls laugh at me when they see me fling a bag of weeds over my shoulder to take to the cow (nothing wasted). A white woman doing hard work. They stop laughing by my third trip.
They hand me a hoe and with the last remaining girls I begin to make the final mounds. Rows of high dirt between walking valleys of low. The digging is hard and steady. Soon the mounds are tall enough to smooth over, and create divits for planting.
We water the holes and seperate old spinach patches to use as new starters. Same same over and over until all the holes hold new life. We water once again.
Mercy comes to watch me. She has never planted, but today she will learn.
My feet and fingers turn red like the soil. My body and soul (finally working) rejoice. I think about my garden at home. It will be three more months before I can dig and plant. I think about these plants soon to nourish these girls.
Yes, I like digging, I think. It is good to grow your own food.
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