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Chapter Eight. The Harvest |
| caption: |
courtship after weeding party, singing |
| text: |
They seemed quite content sitting before the fire, and it was a long time before they decided to take a little air on the veranda. Here they squatted down on mats with the girls, who mostly sat with their backs against the wall. Conversation did not seem to be one of the girls' strong points either; they were very silent, laughing only now and then when the boys made some isolated joke. But they chewed betel all the more energetically, lifting the mat every few moments to spit on the floor. Soon the boys resumed their monotonous chant, but this time each in turn started a sort of recitative, all the other voices joining in after a few notes. Feeling that perhaps it was my presence that weighed on the atmosphere, I left the party at about eleven. It had stopped raining, and even at that late hour a few night-revellers sat on the small platforms before their houses. |
