A day in the life of a rice farmer

We’d been hiking for almost 4 days and I’d barely taken a shot. It wasn’t from lack of opportunity, it was because this trip was not about photography, it was about simply being away. It was about being ‘in the moment’. But there’s a strict limit to how long a photographer can spend in Vietnam’s Hoàng Liên Son mountain range before an addict’s instinct will kick in. ‘Just one shot, just one shot’ (of photography that is, not crack). Before you know it, ‘one shot’ has turned into a binge that ends with you knee-deep in mud, covered in blood, sweat and buffalo shit. How did it come to this?

The story of my relapse begins near a small village in northwest Vietnam called Sử Pán. The picturesque scenes of farmers toiling away in the mountains had been taunting me for days. Each winding valley was to be outdone by the next, until midway through our hike I said, ‘Enough! We need to stop. Either we abandon this hike or I start shooting’ (cameras, not guns). My guide, Phay, was dubious, ‘I don’t think you’ll be able to get down the slope to photograph those farmers. It’s very muddy’. That’s when I took my shoes and socks off and decided to go all ‘intrepid photographer’ on everyone. As I climbed down the mountain, the soundtrack to my life started playing (think ‘Yakety Sax’) and an 80s-style movie montage ensued.

Phay was right, the ‘climb’ down the mountain was more like a slide, a mud slide to be precise. While sliding down the mountain saved time and energy (and was actually quite fun), it meant that I’d not only lost my camera upon arrival, but also my dignity. The camera could be recovered but my dignity was gone - it’s very difficult to stage-manage your public persona when you’re covered in mud and buffalo shit.

Nevertheless, after a few brief introductions by way of hand-shakes and giggles, the farmers generously granted permission for me to document their work. Phay later informed me the farmers had planted rice seedlings about a month ago and today was all about taking steps to maximise the yield. They do this by uprooting every single rice plant before replanting them 15cm apart. Unfortunately, there is no automated way to do this, meaning each and every plant needs to be redone… by hand. This particular terrace is managed by just 3 farmers, between them they prepare thousands of rice plants each day. As the farmers meticulously prepare each plot, a man is in the terrace below preparing the next terrace with a shovel. They’ll slowly but surely work their way down the terrace until the entire area has been replanted. Around 3 months later the rice is ready to be cut from the top of each plant.