Can Planting Concrete Be More Fun?

I've had just enough time to...   see more concrete being planted.

Taken in Cilegon, Indonesia 2 hours from Jakarta 4 months later of the same place as picture below.

On 3 January 2012, I put up a post with the title “Planting Rice Is Never Fun” where I explored the theme of poverty and progress. Is progress a necessary evil? It is not an easy question and the answer depends very much on which side you are from and in. For those who love the beauty of the idyllic farm scene as much as me, we often see the ugly side of progress even as we admit to its necessity at times. But why can’t progress be prettier, to encompass instead of just destroying nature?

This was the image of the field in November 2011.

This is how it looked liked in March 2012.

It is easy to, but I have no right to question whether this is right or wrong for one with no stake in it. I can only lament that the beautiful field of swaying gold is no more. Replace by these piles of concrete jutting out from the barren ground. When the wind blows, I will no longer hear its whispers through the heavy leaden grains but the deep sighs as it swims round stiff concrete.

Planting Rice Is Never Fun.

I've had just enough time...   to see rice been planted.

Taken in a kampung in Cilegon, Java, Indonesia.

This field of ripening padi that I took in my visit to Cilegon in Jakarta is no more. It has been bulldozed over and converted to another factory. All in the name of progress.

It is easy for me to say this is bad. That the old way of Life should be preserved. But I know how difficult it is to walk in deep mud. And how back-breaking it is planting padi under the scorching tropical sun. And I remembered that nursery rhyme that I sang as a boy –

“Planting rice is never fun,

Bend from morn to set of sun.

Cannot stand and cannot sit,

Cannot rest a little bit.”

And I hesitated and reserved any hasty judgement. And I find the only thing I can condemn outright is – “poverty is bad”. Progress? It has two faces. But I sure miss the undulating field of ripening padi dancing to the wind.