For thousands of years, rice has been a main staple for many cultures around the world. Today, it has become an important commodity in various Third World economies.

Thailand, which is the only country in the world to grow the Jasmine rice, also known as Hom Mali aromatic rice, is leading the way in showing the world how to grow this important commodity in an environmentally sound fashion.

Thailand’s Hom Mali rice is still grown and cultivated using traditional and organic methods free of chemical fertilizers or pesticides.

I flew one hour north of Bangkok to Ubon Ratchathani, one of Thailand’s 19 provinces naturally suitable for growing Jasmine rice, as part of a government-sponsored tour to showcase to journalists how native farmers cultivate this rice.

We were also given the opportunity to experience first-hand how this rice is cultivated. Rich, lava based soil, ample aquifers, mild dry weather interspaced with rainy seasons are the main environmental characteristics of that region, a natural recipe for the most suitable environment to grow rice.

We took off early in the morning by bus to the rice fields located about an hour from the main city. On the road, we could see green patties of rice in their early stages. The smiles on the farmers’ faces reflected their simplicity and warm hospitality.

As we arrived at Ubon Ratchathani, we saw a golden sea of grain open up, miles and miles of picturesque yellow fields painted through the sweat and hard work of its farmers. Small groups of people dotted the fields, working like bees in a giant yellow beehive. From sunrise until late in afternoon, these farmers work to earning their living just as their ancestors did.

I took a traditional hat and headed out into the field. The first step was to cultivate the plant with a one-piece metal scythe. It looked easy. The farmers hold the lower ends of the rice plant and cut the stalks smoothly. When I tried to do the same, nearly cutting my leg in the process, I realized that it was a hard and dangerous job. I managed to cut a number of piles with the help of a farmer. I tried to convince myself that I did a great job, that the back pain I felt from bending and cutting all day was proof of my muster. Then I picked my tiny pile of rice sheaves and proceeded to the second stage of the harvesting process: grain separation.

Threshing the grain also proved to be hard work. It involves taking a traditional instrument that to me resembled a 50-cm pair of nun-chucks, and beating the sheaves on a wooden table to separate the grain from its chafe. This backbreaking process gave me an instant rush drawn from curiosity and thrill. I started collecting from a plastic sheet on the ground what came from of my effort.

Then came the milling stage. Traditional rice mills are wooden, consisting of two pieces: a bowl for the rice and a long thick stick for crushing the delicate light-brown shells. Two people usually do the milling process. They create a rhythmic sound out of the strikes, which helps to indicate whose turn it is to hit. I thought it also provided a melodic beat to help kill the boredom of the job.

The final step in this arduous process is to take the rice form the milling process and place it in wide trays and shake them to toss off the shells.

After the end of the process, I had about 500 grams of freshly harvested fine rice. The last step for me was to cook it. It took around 10 minutes for my grain to cook in a traditional clay bowl. When the moment of tasting came, I was filled with an amazing rush of achievement. I knew then that rice was much more to me than a simple easy-to-prepare basic staple. It also came through great effort by farmers who spend months in hard work to deliver rice to our tables.

Moreover, I felt the hardship, determination and will power of farmers with every bite, pushing me to finish the bowl until the very last grain was consumed. This feeling will last inside me forever.