Old straw seasons

Once upon a time, the countryside mainly used straw to roof houses. The thatched roofs were replaced every few years, when the straw turned ash-colored. In the countryside, when people needed to replace their roofs, they usually chose the time after the spring rice crop, before the storm season passed. They carefully selected straw from good rice fields to save for thatching. The clean rice bundles were tied at the top and spread out like a cone to dry. When they were busy, they were just spread out on the edge of the field or dike, dried, and then bundled. When preparing the materials for thatching, women and children would shake and brush the straw to remove the loose fibers. Men would split the cuttings, sharpen the rattan, etc. When thatching, each bunch of straw was arranged so that it was even, and tied to the cuttings to make it thick and tight. When the small straw pieces were combined into a block, the fragrant smell of the sun-soaked straw contained drops of sweat and the joy of the past harvest season.

Straw was our daily fuel, and after the harvest, it was also the time for us kids to have summer vacation, so we often gathered together to collect straw. With just a stick and a rope (or banana vine), we went to the fields, walked along the dike to collect the remaining straw. Each morning, we only needed to collect a tight bundle bigger than our arms to be able to play freely. In those days, with our small labor force, we considered the bundles of straw as a form of achievement, a form of competition with each other. Collecting straw made the kids excited, because they would have the opportunity to find and catch fat water bugs, grasshoppers, and locusts hiding along the grass. A few kids would “pool” some straw to roast, and just smelling the fragrant, fatty smell wafting up would make all the fatigue disappear. Every morning in the familiar kitchen corner, the hot potatoes buried in the new layer of red straw ash seemed to have been scented, making them more fragrant and sweeter.

The hot, sultry summer sun is uncomfortable, but farmers are never afraid of the sun. Because the sun makes the rice dry and the straw fragrant. After each harvest, my grandmother chooses straw to make brooms. She makes big brooms, small brooms, brooms to sweep the house, the yard, brooms to sweep the kitchen, brooms to sweep the alley, and the street. The small house is always bustling with the sound of straw slicing and the smell of dry straw mixed with the sun brings a warm, sweet scent. During the buffalo herding sessions, the children bring washing powder and mix it with river water, then go find straws to blow soap bubbles. The game of hide and seek around the straws must be called a "national game", because all rural children in the 90s and before knew it. The feeling of excitement mixed with nervousness when covering oneself with straw and lying or sitting still without moving is truly an attractive game. While playing hide and seek, one child falls asleep in the pile of straw, causing the whole family to scramble to find him. Found out and was scolded and beaten for playing too much and making parents worry.

When plows, transplanters, and combine harvesters were invented and put into practice, human and livestock labor was liberated. But the attraction of urban industry has gradually pulled people away from the fields. For many years, the fields have only been busy plowing one crop a year, and few families still raise buffaloes and cows. Thatched houses have long been gone, and clean gas fuel is popular. During harvest season, the hometown is still fragrant with golden straw, but few people still take care of drying and storing it for livestock and cooking. Passing by the fields during harvest season now, one can only smell the smoke from burning the fields from the shiny golden straw. Happy that life has changed, but one's heart still misses the sweet, fragrant straw seasons. The straw seasons have gone through many ups and downs of a time, of human life...

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