The Electric Fence, a Farm Tour, and a Story.
Tales From the Farm:
These goats. They look innocent enough, right? Of course not. Scenario: I’m riding my bike down the farm road, snapping pictures. These guys are hanging out really close to the (electric) fence. Naturally I think its an opportune time to take some pictures of these friendly beasts. I stop, get this shot, then they just slide right under the fence (electric, remember?) like its not even there. Thought process: “Great. Escapees. And its my third day here.” Again, naturally, I start to panic, because what this picture doesn’t show is the entire herd of hollow-horned mammals lounging behind these two, and I begin to envision them all coming through the fence in a stampede of curiosity and mischief. Then I would really have some issues. I am no goat wrangler.
So I precede to take hold of their little collars in the form of a blue chain and guide them back under the fence. The first goes easily. The second goat (the far right one in the picture) makes me chase him a bit. I think the other goats are laughing. When I begin to push/deposit the second goat through the fence, my arm hits the electric fence. Now, this is a strange sensation. It made its way through my left arm, across my chest, then down my right arm. It wasn’t painful, just really uncomfortable and startling. It could have been painful. It was also really quick. Later I wondered what nerve I hit. Hopefully I will have more goat photos without mishap to share.
Now, on to the farm tour.
First, a few clarifications:
What the farm is not: The farm is not summer camp. There is no curfew. I have full cell phone usage, and when I am not working, I can come and go as I please. Yes, there is a devotion every morning before work, but no one smothers you with religion. (these are just answers to some questions I received prior to coming to the farm)
Now on to the photos!
That’s the Education Building/Main Building. Whatever you want to call it. This is where the offices are, the village store, as well as the kitchen (where most meals occur) and there is a small apartment attached to the backside. This is where everyone eats lunch together and where work assignments are made in the morning.
I have way more pictures, but these will suffice for now. Now, it is story time.
My friends. Let me clarify some details. The farm is a nice place, really it is, despite what the above title says. However, because of all the composting, long working hours, dirt, things of that nature, there are lots of bugs. Insects. Roaches. Roaches are not my friends.
I have taken it upon myself to do some cleaning in the spare time that I have here- I started with the bathroom, and today I moved on to the kitchen. Just some basic cleaning, do the dishes, throw away the trash, wipe down the counter/stove tops. Nothing invasive.
Me, washing dishes, glances over and sees an empty peanut butter jar. Except its not empty. Inside are three (possibly four) fat cockroaches, lounging at the bottom. Big ones. They might possible have guns. It takes me a few seconds to recover. My first thought: Why? Are these someone’s pets? Surely not. Course of action: cover with lid, smother roaches, dispose of dead bodies. Simple.
I am so aghast (I really hate roaches) that I feel like I must share this discovery. I need someone else to say “yes, thats disgusting. kill them.” In walks farm boy.
Me: Hey, come over here (motions to sink area)
Farm Boy: What’s up?
Me: (pointing to jar) Do you know what those are?
Farm Boy: Roaches. (He could have been saying “puppies” or “elephants”)
Me: Right. Well. I really hate them. They’re not being, um, saved for anything, are they?
Farm Boy: No, no of course not. You should totally get rid of them.
End scene. Upon further inquiry, I learned that the inside rim of said jar had been coated with honey to try and trap roaches that may have been wandering in the kitchen. That I can handle. In case you were wondering, yes, I did take a picture:
Come back to hear about goat milking, and how to cook for 30 people! (ideas, anyone?)