Right after waking up, one has to stay continuously engaged throughout the day for the household chores that need to be done. Every single day, in this exact manner—running around, going back and forth, sitting for a brief moment, standing up the next—one is forced to do the family’s chores all by oneself, even if they feel tired or exhausted. This is a pre-scheduled, routine work that must be done every day. It cannot be left undone; if it is left unmade, things will fall into misery, and along with oneself, the husband and every child will face hardships. Managing the household, leading life, and the entire village itself will become weak. Human civilization and society will fall into complete disarray and chaos.
In this manner, running her own household goes on daily for Rwisumwi. It is not just “Rwisumwi’s story alone”—the lives of rural women run exactly like this every single day. Even with exhaustion, they have never managed to escape it to this day. No matter how tired they get, the chores only seem to increase. Sweeping the courtyard of the house, cleaning all around the house and premises, going to look after the agricultural fields, tending to the domestic chickens, ducks, and pigs. Beyond this, sweeping the goat shed, clearing the dung from the cattle shed, taking care of the animals reared at home, cooking and serving food, gathering vegetables, and looking after and educating the children are their daily back-to-back tasks that must be done. To put it simply they do not have any time at all to just sit around. No matter what, they must finish the chores one after another. Taking proper care of the house, the homestead, the garden, and all the wealth and assets of the family, they have to keep performing all the tasks systematically, one after the other.
In this world, no one’s mind remains exactly the same every day; the physical body also feels good at times and unwell at others. Facing various reasons and problems, a person’s mind and thoughts keep shifting. Sometimes, one feels completely exhausted and reluctant to do a certain task, yet they cannot escape the tiredness. The more they sit down thinking they are tired, the more their backlog of work will accumulate. Therefore, Rwisumwi believes it is best to keep doing her required chores in sync with time, moving continuously from one task to the next. In this exact manner, she has been passing her days up to this age.
Today as well, after thoroughly sweeping and cleaning the courtyard of the house, Rwisumwi cleaned the chicken coop, the pig sty, and the cattle shed. After that, she cooked the meal. Once the rice was ready, she wrapped it in a gamsa-phali and brought it to the field for her husband, who was plowing.
Opening up the food bundle, she served it to her husband to eat. While her husband was eating his meal, Rwisumwi took a brief look around the agricultural field. After walking around the field for a short while, she came back and stood near her husband as he was still eating, and began to speak.
“Where we once farmed using natural, organic manure, future generations will find it very difficult to harvest crops.”
Putting a handful of rice into her mouth, Phuthi’s husband spoke back.
“In the past, our grandparents used to produce crops here with immense hard work. If one was willing to put in the labor, the harvest would turn out incredibly good. The harder you worked, the more fruit you could reap. There was absolutely no need to worry about fertilizers. The Angkhra trees used to grow taller than humans, the Bisangali trees flourished beautifully, and in a certain season, the whole place looked as if it were a cultivated field of Bwrmadari. While plowing, one couldn’t even separate the weeds from the plowshare. Despite such hard labor, they never grew tired of plowing. Because everyone worked with full dedication, the surroundings would echo with vibrant energy. Even the weavers would compete over who could plow the most.”
After drinking a sip of water, the husband, Laothai, spoke again.
“In the courtyard, the doves used to call out ‘guldub guldub’ making the fields feel alive.” Rwisumwi said, looking at her husband’s face.
“Nowadays, no one ever hears the cooing of a dove in anyone’s fields or gardens anymore. Who knows where all the birds have flown away and vanished…
In the old days, you could see them absolutely everywhere. Doves and dulabatha birds used to come right near our porch to sing. Even the sen dedere birds used to come and sing in the garden. One day, brother-in-law Hongla caught a sen dedere bird by setting up a snare right in the simli (silk-cotton) tree he had planted near his house.”
“We don’t get to see doves at all now. Their entire generation must have vanished…”
“Even the people, nowadays, whenever they hear a bird chirping anywhere, they immediately take a slingshot because they were being chased. In the paddy fields and gardens, creatures like rats, rabbits, mongooses, and civets couldn’t even survive anymore. Every single day, there is human disturbance.
What more can be said, the human population has increased. People have also started eating whatever they can get their hands on. One day, a monkey happened to wander out from the forest; people chased it through the branches and shot it down with a slingshot. Poor monkey, even though it tried to escape by jumping from branch to branch this way and that way, it couldn’t find a way out. There were also a couple of hunting dogs in the village. As it tried to jump down to the ground to run, the monkey was pounced upon by the hunting dogs.
Laothai finished eating his rice. He washed his hands with the water from the paddy field. Feeling heavy in his stomach, he greedily gulped down the water from the small earthen pot (khelthi).
One day, we children of the village gathered together to play hide-and-seek in the courtyard. Right at that time, a dove (dau guldub) flew up. Immediately, we chased after it. I kept throwing a stick made from a silk-cotton (simli) tree branch that I found in the field. The stick flew swiftly and struck it right on its neck, and the dove fell flat to the ground. We roasted the dove and ate it.
Rwisumwi brought the brass plate, small bowl, and earthen pot back home. After that, she took a small bucket and a water carrier to fetch water from the village community well. Meeting the villagers at the well, she stayed there for a while chatting about a few village matters.
Deobar, the wealthy man of the village, has brought a new servant (dahwna). In the evening, they got to eat a curry made of taro roots (tharun). That is why they named her “Tharun.” This morning, a mischievous servant named Bwddwn called out to her, shouting “Thadun!” The servant got incredibly angry at being called “Thadun.”
After talking about this matter, they also started laughing together. They got to know about someone bringing a daughter-in-law and someone else sending away a daughter. Apart from this, they felt happy to know other new things as well.
Within a short time, Rwisumwi arrived home carrying a traditional water pitcher (dwihu) on her waist from the well. The daughter, Roji, who was dressed up and ready to go to school, stood close by and said:
“Mom, I feel a stomach ache. I won’t go to school today, okay? I will go tomorrow.”
Rwisumwi did not give any answer. She straightaway brought the water pitcher she was carrying on her waist and kept it on the pitcher stand (dwihu sangra). After that, she brought a few plates and brass utensils from the inner room and started washing them. Coming closer, Roji repeated the exact same thing again.
“Mom, I feel a severe stomach ache. I won’t go to school today, okay? I will go tomorrow.”
This time, Rwisumwi looked sharply at her daughter’s face and said:
“Why won’t you go? Is your stomach hurting? Your stomach ache will get better in just a little while. Even if your stomach hurts right now, you won’t make it to school on time if you delay. Go to school quickly. If you keep lingering without going, you will only get beaten with a stick.”
The daughter began to speak while crying a little.
“I already told you my stomach hurts, why don’t you understand, Mom?”
“I understand, why wouldn’t I understand? That is exactly why I am saying that your stomach ache will disappear while you are on your way to school.”
“It is hurting very badly.”
“Let it hurt badly. It will get better right now.”
“Can anyone go to school with a stomach ache?”
“Why shouldn’t they be able to go? A stomach ache is not bigger than education.”
“Even if the stomach hurts, one must go to school. What kind of mother are you that you don’t even understand a stomach ache? Urmila’s mother should have been my mother instead; that other mother loves Urmila so much. I will just quit my studies altogether.”
“Quit then. Whoever quits going to school gets sent away as a domestic helper (bakhali) somewhere. Oh, I almost forgot, Mwina’s mother is actually looking for a domestic helper to take care of Mwina… If you quit your studies, I will send you away to Mwina’s house to work as a helper.”
As soon as she heard Mwina’s name, Roji showed an expression of disgust. The girls of the village dreaded having to carry Mwina. If anyone affectionately picked the child up, she would urinate on them. If carried on the back, she would urinate and soak the shirt completely. Whether it was an illness or just a habit, the parents had not been able to understand it yet. Mwina’s older brother, Jwngkhang, is already eight years old and he still wets the bed too. How will they get cured, how will they get well? The father had already caught a gandoula (a type of insect/earthworm used in folk medicine), roasted it, and fed it to them. He had even roasted and fed them a road-crossing earthworm (lamakhandai) as many as three times.
Roji pinched her nose and said:
“Am I supposed to carry that pee-soaked child Mwina? That kid smells so bad. Just yesterday, while Rumila was carrying her, the child even pooped on her back. If I ever accidentally end up carrying that child, I will pinch her backside hard and make her cry out.”
“It’s time, go to school quickly. Otherwise, I will hit you with a stick right now. My hands are itching to beat you. It is wrong to lie and say your stomach hurts when it doesn’t. If you don’t keep going to school from now on, you won’t learn anything. You will become foolish. Or do you just want to remain foolish?”
Rwisumwi is not like other mothers. When she loses her temper, she occasionally beats her daughter mercilessly. At times, her loud, roaring scoldings directed at her daughter can be heard across the entire village. Upon hearing Rwisumwi scolding her daughter, the village women will pause their own chores just to listen quietly and eagerly to what she is saying. Unlike other mothers in the village, she does not simply accept whatever excuses her children give. She understands perfectly well how children fabricate lies, exaggerate minor issues, and use tricky ploys just to slack off and stay comfortable.
Fearing a beating from her mother, Roji ended up leaving for school despite dragging her stomach ache along. Her stomach ache had not been that severe after all. Before she had even covered half the distance, her stomach ache completely vanished on its own. The mother also reflects on this from time to time—that among children, stomach aches, headaches, and colds flare up very frequently. Children’s eating and drinking habits are irregular; they eat whenever they get their hands on food, and they drink water thoughtlessly without knowing how much they actually need to consume. The family members and villagers also lack the time to closely monitor and discipline them about this. That is why children fall ill so quickly. They get sick in a moment, and they recover just as quickly. Such ailments do not happen randomly to adults, and when they do, adults are harder to cure; it doesn’t just pass easily like it does with children.