Childhood memories The production team handed over the public rations, and it turned out to be like this!
Preface. When I was a child, every time the harvest season after autumn, the men, women and young elites in the production team would go out collectively to deliver the harvested rice to the grain station as part of collective labor. The process of delivering food is not simple and requires a series of tedious steps. First of all, the rice in the plantation must be dried, which takes only two days in the sunny autumn. Then, some skilled workers from the rice fields stood by the rice piles, wearing straw hats and wiping sweat with large handkerchiefs.
They pick up the paddy with sticks and throw it in the opposite direction of the wind, and the paddy forms an arc in the air, and according to the action of gravity, the paddy falls from a high place, the fuller paddy falls in front, the half-saturated or withered paddy falls in the middle, and the lighter weed fragments are blown by the wind in the opposite direction to the paddy. In this way, they rotated the paddy fields, choosing the cleanest and fullest paddy fields in front of them as grain to hand over to the state. The whole process of cultivating the rice fields is very labor-intensive, but it is also a lively scene, with the men, women and children of the production team gathered around the rice fields and applauded the workers who cultivated the rice fields.
After the rice is picked, the production team leader immediately organizes the members to make a list of people who will deliver the grain tomorrow. At that time, there was no means of transportation, so the members of the production team could only carry two bags of rice or small bags on their shoulders and walk to the commune grain station to deliver grain. Once, I was lucky enough to catch the day when the production team delivered food. I asked my father if he wanted to go with me to deliver food. At first, he was worried that I wouldn't be able to keep up with them, but when he saw my confident look, he agreed.
Early in the morning, my father, wearing a big white scarf, carried bundles of rice with a flat pole and pulled me into the rice field. In the rice field, many members of the community gathered with rice bales on their backs, men carrying two sacks of rice and women carrying two sacks of rice and flat poles in their hands. Everyone was working hard to load the rice and prepare to go to the grain station together. The production team leader and the accountant put each barrel of paddy well, male workers can hold four barrels of rice per liter, about 100 catties, and female workers can pack three barrels of paddy, about 70 catties. After getting ready, the production team leader took the lead, and the team members set off on their shoulders.
Along the way, we observed the delivery of grain by each production team as we walked. Some able-bodied men will stride and fight to be the first, while weaker men or older women will struggle a little and fall behind in the queue. I ran ahead of my father and watched with relish, though I was already sweating a lot. When our advance team arrived at the bridgehead of the Gaotao tomb, the captain stopped, and the team members put down their burdens and sat on stretchers to rest.
Because there was a seven-mile road from our house to the grain station, and only four miles from our house to the bridge, which was considered the center of the whole journey, after a short rest, I was lifted on one shoulder and carried into the grain station. Under the bridge, my father washed my face, gave me water from the river, told me not to drink too much, and then took out two cents to buy me a bean paste ice cream.
The captain and accountant of the production team took the scales and busily checked the grain on everyone's rice bucket, then weighed the rice and packed it. I played with the wind swing at the grain station for a while, and after listening to the scolding of the workers, my father came over and took my hand and told me not to cause trouble. After the accountant of the grain station weighed all the grain and checked that it was correct, the captain announced his return. My father put me in a bucket of rice and sent me home. After walking for a while, I offered to get out of the car, and when I saw my father sweating profusely, I followed him home.
Summary. Although the whole process of delivering food was hard, the scene of everyone's hard work and the atmosphere of unity made me unforgettable for life. It is a simple but important collective work in which we not only fulfill our family obligations, but also contribute to the country's food security. Delivering food has become the norm of our lives, and it has also become a beautiful landscape in our memory.