Pablo, his brother Jose, and Papa are up early. The boys are singing. They are going to help in the fields and are happy. Mama has breakfast ready: black coffee, tortillas, and warmed-over beans from the night before. The boys and their father sit down to eat while their mother waits on them. Then they shoulder their farm tools and trudge off to their farm, which is a long way off. ''When I am older I am going to be a farmer like Papa,'' says Pablo.
Already he has been useful. For two years he has been looking after the cattle, taking them to the pasture in the morning before school and driving them home at night. Often he has done it alone, but sometimes his cousin Juan has worked with him and of course that was more fun.
Papa sighs. ''If I weren't so poor I could buy land close to town, and they would be better fields too.''
But he is poor, and he has to use poor land. It is covered with great boulders and volcanic outcroppings. We can't even use a plow, Pablo thinks to himself. All the work has to be done by hand, chopping away at the soil with a hoe. To walk between the big stones is hard enough without trying to pull a plow around them.
"Your uncle's fields are fine this year. He can grow much corn because he doesn't have to dig his field with a hoe as we do,'' says Papa.
"His new plow is very fine,'' says Pablo, ''and he doesn't have far to walk either.''
"But he doesn't own his ox team,'' Jose points out. ''He rents it for three months and pays for it out of his corn crop.''
"That is true,'' says Papa. ''All the same he can use his land over and over and we must clear new land every three years because poor land wears out fast.''
Last January Papa had started to clear a new field. First he cut down the trees. Then with a machete (large knife) he cut down the bushes and shrubs. He worked fifty days. Every night when he came home he was exhausted. "I ache all over," he groaned.
By April the trees and bushes were dry enough to burn and Papa saved the ashes for fertilizer. After that he and the boys built a stone wall to protect the field from grazing cattle. It had been the hardest kind of work, but looking at his field now Papa is proud. "Not a bad job," he says.
Every bit of land has been used. The corn plants are not in rows but are scattered about wherever there is a place for them between the great boulders. It is a special kind of corn with very strong roots that spread in every direction and force their way down through the rocky soil. Between the corn are squash and beans. Not a scrap of ground has been wasted.
At noon they stop work. "Build a fire," says Papa, "and we will heat our dinner."
At home no one would think of cooking‚ "that is woman's work." In the fields it is different. Papa and the boys heat their dinner and squat down upon their heels to munch their food.
"There's a mouse!" cries Jose suddenly and chases it. It disappears among the corn plants.
"Tonight we will set off firecrackers to scare it away," says Papa.
Pablo and his brother smile happily. Like all boys, they love firecrackers.
Papa sighs. ''If I weren't so poor I could buy land close to town, and they would be better fields too.''
But he is poor, and he has to use poor land. It is covered with great boulders and volcanic outcroppings. We can't even use a plow, Pablo thinks to himself. All the work has to be done by hand, chopping away at the soil with a hoe. To walk between the big stones is hard enough without trying to pull a plow around them.
"Your uncle's fields are fine this year. He can grow much corn because he doesn't have to dig his field with a hoe as we do,'' says Papa.
"His new plow is very fine,'' says Pablo, ''and he doesn't have far to walk either.''
"But he doesn't own his ox team,'' Jose points out. ''He rents it for three months and pays for it out of his corn crop.''
"That is true,'' says Papa. ''All the same he can use his land over and over and we must clear new land every three years because poor land wears out fast.''
Last January Papa had started to clear a new field. First he cut down the trees. Then with a machete (large knife) he cut down the bushes and shrubs. He worked fifty days. Every night when he came home he was exhausted. "I ache all over," he groaned.
By April the trees and bushes were dry enough to burn and Papa saved the ashes for fertilizer. After that he and the boys built a stone wall to protect the field from grazing cattle. It had been the hardest kind of work, but looking at his field now Papa is proud. "Not a bad job," he says.
Every bit of land has been used. The corn plants are not in rows but are scattered about wherever there is a place for them between the great boulders. It is a special kind of corn with very strong roots that spread in every direction and force their way down through the rocky soil. Between the corn are squash and beans. Not a scrap of ground has been wasted.
At noon they stop work. "Build a fire," says Papa, "and we will heat our dinner."
At home no one would think of cooking‚ "that is woman's work." In the fields it is different. Papa and the boys heat their dinner and squat down upon their heels to munch their food.
"There's a mouse!" cries Jose suddenly and chases it. It disappears among the corn plants.
"Tonight we will set off firecrackers to scare it away," says Papa.
Pablo and his brother smile happily. Like all boys, they love firecrackers.
Small Family Farming in Modern Mexico:
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