One potato, two potato, three potatoe, four
Trip Start Nov 17, 2012
22Trip End Ongoing
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Fucking banana bread, fucking banana milkshake, fucking banana's said one guy after his three month farm work stint. Godda hand it to them though, tough old job. When he showed me the viedo of banana humping (yes that it the official job title, one I so longed to be included on my CV...until seeing this video of course) there’s guys hunching a humungous tree blossoming with big bananas over one shoulder and they are running, 'why are you running?’ I ask, ‘You’ll see in a minute’ he says and as he does the camera shoots to the farmer ‘Go, go , go clapping his hands as twenty odd weedy boys ‘hump’ (which I have taken to mean : use all your force to push the side of the body which is carrying the bananas forward and follow it with the other half of your body, at the speed of running for your life) these gigantic trees full of god knows how many snakes and spiders to the tractor type thing before running back to repeat the whole greusome process...all of this in some 32 degree heat.
So one week almost passed in the new hostel and the kind lady had repeated the hope that Monday would bring work for the both of us. Sunday came and the news was looking up for the two of us, which shortly after became the one of us, ‘He just wants the boys (turning to Matteo), So you’ll be with Maria tomorrow. Maria is not a boy...Ok she has the stature of and she’s German, but that’s not fair...but imagining Maria the viking weight lifting 500 kilo bags of potatoes, I see that she is more than fit for the job.
I awake to a knock at the door and answer it in my pants, It’s giant Maria, the guy who was gonna work with Matteo doesn’t want to work, So I can. Horray J I make a vow to myself to be just as good as the German Giant.
I get to work and climb onto the harvester. Everyone kept talking about the harvester but to be honest I had no idea what it was. I know I come from Norwich and everything but unfortunatly it’s not true: I can read, I can write and I CANNOT drive a tractor.
We jiggle on and then the potatoes start flying. I had always fancied myself working in a factory like the classic ladies from the black and white times.
The highlight of my day will forever more be finding a Homer Simpson shaped potato.
Sure I was using and developing my skills, attention to detail to tell the difference betweem a potatoe and a hard piece of mud, Adaptibility as a month ago I was working comfortably in our new studio office in my comfy wheely chair that meant that standing was only neccesary two steps towards the kettle and now I was working in a moving vehicle wind flapping about my face with not even a free hand or second to take a sip of water. Time management, I held onto the need to pee for the whole ten hour shift. Flexibility as I made sure the mud to chuck movements where twisting at my waist, okay so that’s probably tonability. Communication skills, shouting or miming to the other three on the job to try to be heard over the noise of the machine, not to mention the character building.
I switch between turning on my mind and super speed working to turning it off completely, which nums things a little for a while, but then the song keeps coming back in my head ‘one potatoe, two potatoe, three potato, four. I am annoying myself, but I can’t stop it.
But it really isnt so bad, I am gettting 20 dollars and hour and I am sure once my legs get used to the standing and my nose gets used to the soil dust flying around and my back manages to brace my body when the tractor bumps along, I am sure I will be fine doing this job ten hours a day, six days a week for three months...87 days....AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!