In 1989, I spent a couple of months in Bali counting the leaves on mango trees.I was reminded of this yesterday when visiting prospective daycare providers for Amado. One of the women we visited had a incense-scented house filled with devotional images of Sai Baba.
My boss in the Balinese leaf counting project (it was more than that, but don't distract me), who was a worm farmer from Santa Cruz, gave us little paper packets of funeral pyre ashes from Varanasi that were blessed by Sai Baba. On an auspicious night, we opened them up and tossed them into the rice paddies around Ubud. The ashes sparkled in the moonlight.
And no, I don't remember how many leaves are on a typical Balinese mango tree, but it was in the thousands.
Being a leaf counter was hot, dusty, and sometimes I ran into huge spiders hiding under the leaves. But I persisted, compelled by my desire for the authentic dish of nasi champur that marked the end of each day.
So is little Booji in this woman's backyard learning his numbers right now?
ReplyDeleteSorry Tai, but all of the leaves on Bali have been counted. If you're still looking for a job, we have a gig babysitting a wild animal disguised as a human booji. That would be in Toronto though, not Bali.
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