An honest account.

I am not the person that shares deep feelings or personal thoughts often especially if makes people pity me... BUT, since I have no face and i think this day was a day worth sharing I will tell it. I have to give some context to it. (please do not take offence or it too serious but this is a very honest take of my day and my thoughts. I try to keep it honest and true but I censored and left out some of the details) Every one has wicked or evil thoughts at some point but I like to think its how we act on it that reflects our stronger nature. Unfortunately i often have these thoughts about the people and the place i live.

This has been a LONG week. Most of it spent fixing tools and equipment that people have run into the ground. Nobody takes care of anything. No mechanical sympathy, no pride. They just use things until they break, then hand them over like it’s someone else’s problem.

That same attitude runs through everything here — no discipline, no respect. Just get by, cut corners, and let someone else clean it up. Eat the chicken and beg for eggs tomorrow. My opinion of the ruling masses in this country is low. And by law i have to chose workers from this group. Law makes it very hard to hold them accountable or even replace them. They often demand sharing benefits but never the burdens. They kill drive to excel amongst them selves.

On the way home, I stopped at a trashed field. Kids hang out there all the time. Trespassing, sure, but no one does anything. The cops don’t bother, the parents don’t care where their kids are, and legally I can’t do much either. They always leave trash behind — bottles, wrappers, whatever they bring. Just like the adults. Yet the land owner is the one that gets the blame when some one gets hurt. This is an old problem where i live. My father and his before him had to deal with this. I am less fortunate as law no longer permits removing invaders. At times infrastructure is stolen or broken by squatters. Some build their trash heap shacks at irrigation dams. Often dumping trash and waste in it. By law i cant remove or confront them. Neither can I protect all assets from theft. Am i being punished

I sat there looking at it all, my thoughts festering. I thought about how little people care for what isn’t theirs — how the people from the townships bring the same trash and problems onto the farm. How most of them think they are owed something. I figured, everyone feels so entitled these days they never accept blame or incentive of the slightest amount. Every one can point and call life unfair, but someone has to take responsibility at some point. Damnit this is my home my land i will care for it and do what needs to be done, do what it takes. So I got out my truck and i started picking the trash from the field. I let my hatred fuel the rotten work i was doing. As much as i want to go home after this long day i stayed letting my thoughts flow. Why do i bother trying to save what my father saved for me and his father before him. We all prep and work this land to keep it green and productive yet now days even though we do every thing right its not bringing anything much in with all the parasites that it lures. I wondered if i am being tested or being punished. Why cant the world just leave me be? Why does it bring its problems to me? Why do these people insist on it? Make a mess and move to a new place to destroy. History tried implementing the idea of keeping people out of each others faces. The best intentions pave the road to hell i suppose. Now the world resents us for it. Still i wish i could have been held accountable for my own actions and not others.

I made trip after trip to and from the pickup truck before I noticed the field had its usual "visitors".

Those kids were watching. Bare foot, torn clothes and snot nosed. As usual nothing better to do than climb the fence and wander on private properties. Maybe even throw stones at windows or the cows. a few weeks ago a neighbor found one of his cows stoned and beaten with sticks to death. Naturally the police did nothing nor did the parents even ever show up.

I didn’t say anything— just kept going. I felt their eyes on me and i heard them whisper and discus amongst them selves the spectacle. Let them watch, I thought. Those little brats have probably never seen a responsible adult in their lives. I bet most if not all of them are accidents. That’s why they hang around the farm — their parents and the town ship neglect them. Rather make trouble where some one is bound by law and common decency not to lay hands on them. They freely come to this green fields and never question how it came to be. I caried on walking to and from my truck with trash and filth on my hands and in my mind. The field was vast.

Then a few of them came over and helped. Quietly, without being asked. I didn’t expect that. Without a word, they handed me fistfuls of trash, and I loaded it onto the pickup. One by one they would make turns scanning the grass, picking trash from it and then return standing in line to hand their tribute to me. This silent exchange went on for some time. When the field was clean, I muttered a quick thanks to each of them.

I got in the truck and i drove off, I thought about it. I felt a bit ashamed of my previous thoughts of them as I left the clean field. I suppose they are merely a product of the people around them, the culture they came from. Kids have so much initiative but where does it all go?