“This is why we wear rubber boots, Danielita!” Dario, the compassionate and hardworking farm owner, said.
The night before, I could hardly sleep because I couldn’t tell whether the spider above my pillow or the mouse under my bed was now crawling across my face or under my sheets, the only place was able to find comfort so far.
Am I clean? I haven’t felt clean since I’ve arrived. I’ve taken nightly short, cold, showers in charming stalls made of palm fronds and bamboo, only to awake at 6 a.m. to shovel pig shit, prepare slops and submerge my hands in soil.
But what is clean, really? Today, I saw cleanliness as the finished product of the composting process. As I shoveled loads of nutrient rich soil into sacks….