Our ricefields are magnificient and in magnanimous beauty. I wasn't sure to be aware of that when I was young as it seems just natural and the time of innocence to me. If you grew in a place like, that at young age it seems to be just a part of you. Growing up, I finally and slowly realizing how huge they are in space and beauty! They almost take half of our village and even extend to all directions of our ancestral lands. Our people, culture, nature and traditions complements with their existence. It was the center of our past, the life of our ancestors. People come to our place in awe for it's astonishing beauty, for them they have never seen such in real! I for myself who is now exploring and gone outside this little village of ours, lived in the city- Coming back home is a feeling of pain and regain. I missed the place, our ricefields are indeed beautiful, a rebirth of beauty in the eyes everytime I come home. Now each ricefield, sometimes we only see the beauty in the eyes, we seem to forget how many years our ancestors built them. This is manual labor, consider the distance from the river to the top of the mountain! It is not only stones but they have to kind of "architect" the slopes and the ground they will make the foundation of the paddies... it is beyond my imagination. I have seen how they do the repairs now a days, it is hardwork- you need to publish your help to the community and feed them after that. sometimes it is neglected for this reason. I (my parents) have some ricefields that until now some sides are still left eroded. My father knows the "kabite" but where will you get the stones, down down below the river, and scarce?! and he is alone. Will my son knows how to do this oneday?
It is such a tradition being lost, or even gone already.
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