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Where Rice Originates  by Mo Rui Qiu
H aving lived in Asia for several years, I have already eaten a large quantity of rice! I have also traveled through countless
rice paddies. But July 9, 2007 was the first day that I would begin to experience where that rice originates.

We got a very late start that morning, so most of the other villagers were busy in the fields when we walked into the village. Everyone stopped to look at me, the western foreigner, together with my foreign Asian friend and my local Zhuang friend.

Planting Rice
These expert rice planters showed us how it's done!

Jingxi, Guangxi

I knew that local people all wear tall rubber boots when planting the rice seedlings. The marshy, mucky rice paddies are teeming with myriads of little critters. I had hoped that someone would have an extra pair of boots to loan me. Unfortunately, there were no boots available to borrow. I knew it was utterly foolish to wade in barefoot, but what was I supposed to do? We had already traveled by bus from the county town out to the village, and I was certain there were no boots for sale nearby the village. Off I went, foolishly barefoot!

Wearing hats and coated with sunscreen, my friend and I joined two local ladies in their field. The murky water came up past my ankles. They showed us the piles of rice seedlings. Bright green blades jutted out from little clumps of roots. The families had grown the seedlings in another location prior to planting time. The ladies showed me how to thrust each seedling into the watery mud, about fifteen to twenty centimeters apart from each other. She said it is best to plant them in rows as much as possible. When she noticed a runt seedling, she said, “This one is no good, just throw it out.”

Gradually, I got into a rhythm of planting three or four seedlings at a time. Since four of us were working in the same field, we finished it rather quickly. Soon, it was time to go to the river and wash off the mud that covered our feet, legs, and arms. I wondered if the seedlings I had planted would actually grow properly. I felt like we had barely done any work, yet they were already taking us back to the house for lunch. For me, the brief experience in planting rice was still a novelty. Nevertheless, I could already deeply respect the men and women who return to these fields day after day, year after year. Their hard work is the place rice originates.