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I was more prepared today with the stuff I picked up on Monday,
a bandanna to fashion as a sweat band to keep the sweat from
stinging my eyes and putting Gatorade in the pop cooler. The
men drink soft drinks in the late morning but I stay away from
it and have stuck to water until I remembered to bring the
Gatorade that I bought Monday.
By 10:00 AM, the one they call Nino was feeling ill and took an
extra water break and I notice another man who’s nicknamed
“Chemo” also left the field and went to the water coolers.
I had heard yesterday about men quitting on other farms because
of the heat. I felt uncomfortable because of the sun feeling
like a flamethrower on my back and for the condition of this
field.
There was a lot of “Kelite” on the ends and so for the first and
last 100 feet you had to be bent over between the rows, deprived
of any possible breeze smoldering in the hot sand that you
dumped on your feet when you uprooted the Kelite.
I remembered doing this job in my farmworker past and settled
into my spread eagle, jackknifed but straight back to pull the
weeds. I did that job first before working my way back down the
row to top and sucker.
By the time we made a round and a half we took a water break at
the far end of the field. The men looked beat, breathing with
their mouths open with teeth showing and their shirts drenched
in sweat.
I thought to myself that this is what happens to old guys when
they do this type of work. I happened to catch a glimpse of
myself in the pick-up rear-view mirror as I walked around to put
away my Styrofoam water cup, and I looked the same!
These men are athletes in every sense of the word. They’re
tough and rugged with great stamina. Most of the men in this
group have been working together for some years now so there is
a lot of camaraderie. They help each other finish their rows
together so they can all take water breaks around the same
time.
When the rows are especially long, they help the guy next to
them to keep up with the group in the same part of the field.
This adds to the company of tales, songs, and kidding that is
constantly humming and makes the day bearable. It’s like a team
and the labor camp that we go back to every day resembles a
locker room/barracks, merged into one.
The farmer came by at noon again with lunch and ate with us. We
ate at the far end of the field, next to a pine tree forest.
The pines gave us a pleasant lunch break site. The shade and
the occasional breeze were refreshing.
I asked the farmer various questions about the tobacco industry
in appropriate pauses between his joking with the men. He was
quite forthcoming and honest with facts that I stored into my RJ
Reynolds information bank.
Speaking of RJ Reynolds, I realized that they were making me
feel like a fugitive. If they’re looking for me, what are they
going to do with me when they find me? They could just pick up
the phone and call me.
After the short lunch break, we tore into the next rows only to
be blunted by the sapping heat within the hour. The singing
stopped and for once it was almost quiet. We straggled to
finish the last rows of the field and loaded up to go to the
next field.
Again, the short drive revived us and the men kidded themselves
about not falling on our faces by not finishing the job and end
up like those guys we heard about yesterday that only wanted to
work half days. “They must think they’re bankers, you know, the
rich and leisure types that make everybody else do the work.”
Around 4:00 PM, a cloud cover refreshed us, accompanied by a
nice breeze. It was still hot as the farmer had told us at
noon that the heat index was around 97 for the day. We were
able to finish early, about 5:20PM. I personally was relieved.
This evening, Caballo and I sat and read scripture together. He
has a King James Version bilingual Bible which is not my
favorite but it is good as any for Bible study and for learning
English, which all the men are interested in.
I promised “Chemo” I would get him one of those bibles as he
keeps asking me what the English words are for any number of
things during the day. He made me recite the entire alphabet
slowly so he could repeat the letters after me. They were
telling me how great it would be if I stayed with them longer so
I could give them English classes.
In my farmwork background, the third day has always been the
make it or break it day. I’m hoping my body remembers that rule
tomorrow.
Call to the Fields Part V
Call to the Fields Part IV
Call to the
Fields Part III
Call to the Fields Part II
Call to the Fields |
