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Chapter twenty. The Land and the People |
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lack of wet-rice demonstrators |
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(155) Out after pigeon once in the Asalu parkland, Namkia and I stepped out of the high grass into a patch of cultivation. The crops were ripe, but the sparse and wretched rice was barely a foot high; a few thin ears topped it. It was a typical Asalu harvest. A few days before, in a field far to the east, rice in a jhum had dangled on my shoulder. |
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" If I could find a demonstrator who knew," said Namkia, as we looked at the field. " I'd terrace that bit of land of mine up at Impoi. It's a good piece, and the Kukis are asking me for it. I've got my own savings, too; I wouldn't need Government money. But who is there who really knows the job ? Masang is useless; he doesn't know a thing." |
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" What about the Kuki demonstrators ? " |
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" Do they really know ? And what sort of a job would they do for me, a Naga ? These streams are steep. We want a man who knows. Why can't we have someone good, a proper Angami ? " |
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But war-time inflation had by then begun; and though a new S.D.O., alive to the danger, was searching everywhere for an able man, no skilled Angami now wanted to come at thirty rupees a month. Rescue must wait till after the war - if ever. |
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We walked on home at the edge of the tragic crop. |
