This is a story that almost got away.  A few months ago, June 6^th to be exact, some members of First Church were adventurous enough to go on a trip to the Overlook  Farm in Rutland, Massachusetts.  This 270-acre working farm is one of three in the United States that helps Heifer Project International educate the public about world hunger and poverty.  For those of you who have not heard of this charitable organization, this trip journal should be informative, if not indelibly memorable. 

The trip was organized by our indefatigable leader, personified in Howard Thody.  Howard told us that we did not have to bring anything because  lunch would be provided for us.  I told myself I’ve been there before, so this trip should be just as easy, just as interesting.  “Interesting” proved to be an understatement. 

There were 13 of us who went on the trip, 8 adults and 5 children.  More specifically, our caravan consisted of the Faracis (Julie, Phil, and daughter, Rose), the Sanders (Al and daughter, Hillary), Andrea Ladr, Jennifer Jasenski, Maggie Schufer, 3-year old twins, Michael and Alexis, plus my son, Chris, myself, and Howard Thody.

The trip started in the morning at the church parking lot.  We decided that the Faracis would ride in their car.  Howard would have Maggie and the twins in his car.  Al would have Chris, Hillary and Andrea.  Me?  I got lucky enough to ride with Jennifer in her sturdy truck.  The sky was clear when we started, but by the time we got to our first stop on I-84 a light rain descended on us.  I didn’t mind it one bit.  Jennifer and I were having a wonderful time chatting about the men in our lives:  me with my past boyfriends and my husband, and she with her current male friends.  Somehow her stories about her quest to find the right boyfriend stirred a basic instinct in me to divulge to her a somewhat sad and nostalgic past.  [Inquiring minds need not ask].  I found out that she likes to go square-dancing and such --- something I’d like to do given the time and a man with the right rhythm and dancing feet.  So, as we went on our trip and the rain became steady drops of lead, Jennifer and I were oblivious of it and were just having a grand time laughing about the mishaps in our lives and possibly the men who caused them.  Now this isn’t one of those men-bashing stories.  Rather, this is just an account of two women driving in a truck in the heavy downpour, passing the time while trying to follow the signs to Overlook Farm.  At least this part of the story is.

I forgot  to say that Jennifer’s truck was leading the caravan.  And we did get lost twice on the way to Rutland.  Once, we went on the wrong exit, and on another, we missed the light.  However, we managed to turn around each time without asking for directions, and each time the other cars simply did a U-turn and followed us.  Talk about women leading a bunch of men drivers!  I wonder what Christ and his disciples would have done if Mary Magdalene was driving our truck?  But we did get to Overlook Farm even if we were late by half an hour.

We were soon assigned a volunteer to show us the farm.  Like all other farms, this one had a huge barn full of animals.  Soon, the girls and the twins were running around petting the horses, the goats, the ducklings, chickens, and whatever four-legged creature there was.  Before the kids could agitate the animals in the barn, we were ushered to another area to watch a video about the Heifer Project.  The video showed poor families in different countries being given livestock to help each family become self-sufficient.  The concept of the project is that the recipient of each animal must agree to pass off an offspring to another family in need.  The animal could be a goat, which could provide milk for food, and fertilizer for the garden.  The combination of livestock and education in good farming practices, plus the idea of creating a perpetual gift from the animal’s offspring is behind the success of this charitable organization --- a slow, yet effective, solution to world hunger.

After the video it was time to tour the farm.  Boy, was I glad to have brought an umbrella that day!  Poor Al looked like a dressed tuna in his soggy shirt.  But the energetic twins were having a ball.  Howard’s niece, Maggie, found some big trash bags and wrapped each twin in plastic.  It was such a delight watching the twins waddle in these bags with huge bows behind them. 

By this time, however, we were hungry.  I remember Jennifer asking me, just before we got there, if we could stop for hotdogs or hamburgers because she felt famished.  We couldn’t have talked our ears off and got hungry in the process, but we sure felt hungry by the time we got there.  But, we didn’t find a restaurant and, besides, Howard did say there was going to be lunch at the farm.  Images of fresh corn, sandwiches, chips and drinks began to dance  in my head.  Unfortunately, our guide said we had to tour the global village first. 

The village, interestingly enough, is composed of authentic reproductions of houses from different poor areas of the world.  I remember that at one time they had a yurt, which is a round tent made of yak hair.  This time they had an Asian house made of bamboo, built on stilts, with a small fishing pond beside it.  They also had a Tibetan house and another farm house.  We walked thru the muddy path toward the Tibetan house, and there the girls were instructed to carry some utensils for cooking, a few matchsticks, a container of milled barley, brown sugar, some butter, some tea leaves, and a pail of goat’s milk freshly gathered from the barn that day.  Now this is interesting, I thought. 

Sure enough we were told by our guide that we were to pretend that we were members of a poor family in Tibet that day, and that we would have to prepare our own peasant meal from the ingredients provided us.  But since another group was occupying the Tibetan house, we would have to prepare our meal at the Thai house.  By the time we got to the modest dwelling, we were so hungry we could have eaten Howard Thody!  But our adventure spirit got the better of us and  everybody, except for the twins, got busy looking for firewood.  The rain was still pouring at this time.  So, looking for kindling was quite a task.  Thank God for Jennifer’s Girl Scout experience.  Soon  she was instructing us how to build a fire.  I should add that the men, including Howard, were also instrumental in getting the fire going.  Phil, Julie, and Al were huffing and puffing like the three little pigs.  The tiny house had a kitchen that immediately reminded me of our kitchen back home in the Philippines.  The stove looked like it was made of clay, stone, and concrete, and had a chimney attached in the back.  It had three holes with iron rings on them to cook different size pots.  Firewood was inserted into the front opening.  It seemed like forever but we didn’t mind the smoke because soon a good fire was lit and we were boiling water in the big pot.  With the rain pouring outside, the small, dirty kitchen provided a warm refuge.  As soon as we had boiling water, the girls and Julie went to work washing the utensils.  We also started cooking the barley out of goat’s milk, butter, and brown sugar.  We also made tea.  Surprisingly both came out really good.  Anything at that point tasted really good, but nobody was complaining.  The barley gruel was eaten to the last spoonful.  The guide told us to ration the barley, because that’s what a poor family would have done in Tibet.  But we liked it so much that we made another batch.  In real life, it would have been feast then famine.  A big family like us would have needed several goats to provide the milk.  

With our stomachs full and the rain still pounding on the feeble roof, we had fun exchanging stories and joking with each other.  The experience and surroundings really transported me back to a time when my family had such a kitchen.  And yet I never learned to cook because we had our own Chinese and Filipino cooks to cook the meals for us.   A poor Tibetan mother would have struggled to feed the whole family with just half a cup of barley and goat’s milk.  I remember Al telling me that I should tell my stories about growing up in the Philippines for a second hour session at church.  [Someday, Al, maybe].  But now we had to clean up our utensils, the kitchen, and put away the extra firewood for the next group to use.

We headed back to the main building for a lesson in world hunger.  The exercise consisted of a map of the world drawn on a wide piece of cloth, and we were given stones to determine where food was available and which countries needed them the most.  It was clear from the exercise that we in this country had plenty of food and nourishment, whereas in countries such as Africa and Asia, the big disparity in food and population was evident.  That’s where Heifer Project comes in, but their task seems insurmountable. 

I was too lethargic to do anything, but I listened and watched the girls (Hillary, Andrea, and Rose) really taking the exercise very seriously.  I said to myself that this trip would be really good for the Initiates.  Here was an opportunity for them to experience hunger and real work at the same time.  Did I say real work?  Sure, cooking the gruel was work, but here comes the best part.

After the hunger education session, we were told that we would now get real farm  work experience.  We headed back to the huge barn this time.  Then we were told that the sheds needed to be cleaned and fresh hay put in.  They also needed some wooden signs painted.  I watched with awe and wonder as the Faracis, Hillary, Howard and Andrea immediately went to work with pitchforks in hand.  Jennifer, Al, and Chris got busy painting.  And did I mention the strong, heady, pungent smell of the pigsty, the horse stalls, the duck sheds, and chicken coops?   Me?  I chickened out and claimed too dizzy from the smell of ammonia.  But it was so amazing to see this group from First Church so gung ho about a real farm experience.  I wish John and Sandra had been there.  They would have anointed this group and considered the girls fully initiated.

           By this time we were really exhausted.  It was time to go home and soak in the tub.  Jennifer and I climbed back in the truck.  Howard and Al followed with their entourage.  I was told later that the Faracis stayed a little bit longer and were able to go on a hayride.  A week or so later, we would recall on how great this experience had been for all of us.  Despite the rain, the mud, the peasant meal, and the grueling barn experience, the whole trip was truly uplifting and our camaraderie invigorated.  I would definitely recommend this trip to everybody at First Church.