What are the customs around eating snacks during the busy farming season?

I was just passing by the edge of the field and helping to transplant a few rice seedlings for five minutes, when Grandma came riding her scooter along the long path through the fields, her figure gradually growing from a tiny dot in the distance into an old woman wrapped all over in floral-print cloth, wearing a bamboo hat that left only her face showing, her face covered in wrinkles. Smiling, she called out in a hearty, manly way: "Young man, come eat a snack!"

I turned her down out of embarrassment, but unexpectedly got scolded: "When Grandma tells you to eat, you eat!" That startled me into quickly picking up my chopsticks and digging into that bowl of piping-hot noodles with minced pork, which even had a braised egg added... There were three grandmas in all around me, none hunched over, none bent, their bursts of laughter ringing out one after another, so hearty. I wasn't hungry at all, and having accepted their kindness for no reason, I ate somewhat hesitantly.

The grandma sitting next to me, though, was already tilting her head back and slurping down her soup noisily. I don't think I'd ever seen an elderly person eat with such gusto. I couldn't help asking Grandma how old she was. She said she was in her seventies, and that it's easy to get hungry working in the fields, so she eats five meals a day.

I simply couldn't believe that the grandma who looked only sixty was actually in her seventies, and could actually eat five meals a day!

It seems the beautiful mountains and waters of the East Rift Valley, plus the grandmas' habit of hard labor, are the secret to lasting youth. Even though they told me they had no choice in the matter, and that I was foolish to come here to learn to endure hardship, I actually think those bodies that start seeing doctors and taking medicine at sixty are the ones truly suffering with no choice.

Delivering snacks is probably one of the most realistic moments of rural life. Employers send snacks between meals to everyone helping with the farm work, to reward the farmers who leave home to work as soon as the sky brightens and keep at it until the sun blazes.

In this moment of rest, besides the relaxed atmosphere of sitting on the ground, the gratitude between employer and farmhands is also silently expressed. This harmonious labor-employer relationship, with everything understood without being said, reminds me of the farmhand characters in writer Hong Xingfu's works, who go off alone to make a living elsewhere: when they meet a good employer, they support each other with all their might; when they meet a stingy, difficult employer, they still have to grit their teeth and finish the work. Taiwanese people are probably the ethnic group in the world best at "fighting for pride."

 After finishing their noodles, the grandmas one by one unconsciously put their gloves back on and went down into the fields to transplant more seedlings. I hurriedly gulped down my noodles and chased after the water holes left by the grandmas' footsteps in the paddy field. Although I really was just passing by and wanted to try transplanting a few seedlings, now that I'd chatted and even eaten the noodles, I had no choice but to do the job well...