REAL LIFE STORY BITS: Beans
My family lives in a province near a small city. Our place is in the highland region, so it is expected that we have mountains. We have our house located on one of the mountains where we enjoy the beauty of nature. So whenever tourists visit our place they’re amazed that houses are built on the mountains. This view is not a common sight for them. Sure, it’s not, the lowland is flat.
There are a lot of benefits in the dwelling . First, we don’t need to schedule exercise because we go up and down in order to go to school or work. Second, The breath-taking view is relished everyday. And of course when I was younger, there weren’t that many houses in our neighborhood yet, so we could still go further away from home to play around.
If you are in the highland and your mom loves to eat beans, for sure you can relate with me. For most of you, it’s better to just imagine with me. One experience that I can vividly reminisce was the times when we were asked by our mom to go look for firewood or sticks to cook beans. As little fellows, we not only carried sacks for our “treasure hunting” we brought our sharpened “sword” with us. You might be wondering, why. Simply because if you saw your mom from the market with white, black, mong,‘purple’ beans, and cow pea, on her head, cooking and eating beans is for sure not once, twice or even thrice, it’s unending. Don’t you ‘dare’ ask what's for breakfast, lunch or dinner? It might be taken against you (hehe). Not to mention,cooking beans takes time when you’re not using a pressure cooker. More time obviously means more firewood, more heat energy as my science teacher told me.
Gathering brushwood was just the beginning, never the ending given that we couldn’t and we still can’t eat beans raw. We had a dirty kitchen outside our house where we used to make fire to cook for our beans. It’s easy to make fire when the woods are totally dried and the weather agrees to cook beans for the family. However, when the woods are still wet and it’s raining cats and dogs as if to choose eating raw beans buried with cooked rice is just an acceptable option. Your eyes are forced to shed tears, literally. Ask me why. The smoke goes into your eyes while blowing the stacks of sticks hoping the coal will help them to dry up and ignite fire. Straight up, I didn’t like the fact that I needed to cook beans while it’s raining, what’s more when the woods are not responding right even when you are crying because you’re running out of patience.
From this event of my younger years, here are the realities that came to mind. Let me say that LIFE IS BEAUTlFUL depending on your definition of beauty. My place on the mountains is beautiful. Gathering sticks while keeping beans in mind is beautiful - we knew why you’re doing what we're doing. Carrying the sacks of the gathered brushwood is beautiful. It humbles us when our neighbors were looking at us while walking past them with sacks on our shoulder. They used a gas stove while we gathered sticks. Cooking beans is beautiful. Just imagine how science is practically observed, not just stated by my brilliant teacher. Crying because you’re running out of patience is beautiful. It’s a simple mirror that one’s reaction is of no value because only the right response matters. To ask why we use wood instead of gas stoves is beautiful. It makes someone wiser when comfort comes later.
Do you like beans? My mom taught me a lot of lessons from gathering sticks from the mountains to cooking beans in the dirty kitchen, and of course savoring the beans on our humble table. LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL, so let’s enjoy a bowl of beans!
Thanks for reading! :)