August 10 was an amazing day; it was the tree planting day. I opened my door at 8 to be ready whenever we were going to start. At 8:15, my dad came rushing to my door to get me to start. It was very overcast, and he was afraid that it would rain. (It ended up drizzling for five minutes and maintaining a wonderful, cool, perfect work temeperature with a nice breeze the entire day.) We hurried over to the field. At first, only five men were there, and I was a bit nervous. But more came until there were maybe 25 or 30 men. No women were there, and I was a bit disappointed but figured the men would do a good job. Most got to work chopping down all the bushes in the field with machetes; the field was very overgrown with weeds. I had forgotten how many bushes and plants had spread over the field and was daunted by the prospect of cutting everything down, thinking it would take a long time. Two groups of two or three men got to work starting to dig holes. I walked around with a mesauring tape between the two groups, mesuring the size of the holes and the distance between the holes. I felt like a supervisor just going back and forth and not doing any manual labor, but I felt important as men kept calling me over. It was nice to watch the men work too. They all knew what to do without any instructions from me. Of course, this is Senegal, so a lot of times, the men would just stand around watching or talking, but they worked very hard (even chopping down bushes from the tops of two termite mounds). The men digging the holes also understood the necessity of digging deep holes to loosen the soil for the roots, even though the plants weren't that big yet. One group was very meticulous with the measurements of their holes. They dug the holes with a small blade on a stick or with a machete (which made perfectly square holes).
When the men were about halfway through chopping the weeds down, one woman arrived. Soon, a few more trickled in, and I was so happy. I realized that it was now 9:40, and women usually go to their fields around this time; the men had just gotten an earlier start. Meanwhile, the women must've just been carrying out their usually morning chores of getting water, cooking, cleaning, washing clothes, etc. My mom came at this point and told me that we should start getting the plants from my backyard to bring here. I thought she meant for the two of us to bring all the trees over, but as we walked back, we passed about twenty more women on their way to the field and brought them back with us. Women brought their water buckets over, and I worked with some of the kids to fill the buckets with the trees. All the women insisted on taking their shoes off before entering my room, even though I tried to protest. With the buckets all filled, I wondered how we were going to get them to the field because they were really heavy; I couldn't imagine the women being able to carry these buckets on their heads, but they lifted them up without complaint and headed to the field. As I followed behind, I laughed at the sight of 20 or so women walking with buckets of trees on their heads. A man from another village passed us, and I wonder what he thought of this procession.
I showed the women how to plant the trees, and after a few demonstrations to different groups, they set about transplanting all the trees. Jembet nanu! (We transplanted!) I walked around, watching the women eagerly planting them; they were all so excited. A few would ask me how their tree looked in the ground. I would comment on how deep they had planted it or the amount of soil on top, and they would then pass this information along to others. One woman in particular asked me every time I passed; hers were always perfect. As I watched the men chopping or digging and women planting, I thought it was a perfect day, and I couldn't be happier. My village was working so hard. Soon, there were around 50 women there. There wasn't work for everyone, but they were all trying to help or standing around talking, joking, and playing. I realized that I had been really serious up to this point, so I started joking with the women too and even dancing with them. Every time I passed someone that I hadn't seen yet, they would call out to me and greet me.
Some of the men started to argue in two separate groups. I walked over to each group to try to understand the cause of the problem, but I couldn't figure it out. I didn't want to interrupt, but I was hoping that someone would see me and explain; no one did. All the work had stopped by this point, but eventually the problem was solved, and work recommenced. But the men soon tired and went to sit under a tree. The work that had been gender-divided before now all fell to the women and few remaining men. The women then commenced digging all the holes. Tons of holes were being dug at once with all the available tools, while other women stood next to the holes armed with a tree ready to be planted. I was so impressed by them. Digging holes were hard work; I struggled to dig one hole before a boy took the hoe from me and finished it. The woman owning the neighboring field also donated some space for more rows of trees, even though she had peanuts planted there; we needed more room for the trees. I was so proud of my village. Around 2, we stopped for the day, and everyone headed home. About 300 eucalyptus trees had been planted.
The following Monday, we returned to the field. Everyone knew what to do and fell into their roles. In about 3 hours, the remaining 70 eucalyptus trees, 25 mango trees, and 50 cashew trees were planted. I surveyed the field with satisfaction. All that now remains is to buy the fencing for the mango and cashew trees to prevent them from being eaten by animals. But so far, all the trees seem to be growing well.
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