During my time at Mighty Food, I was exhausted almost all the time. At one point, my family thought I was seriously sick because I'd fall asleep at 10:00 on Friday nights (certainly not typical of most 22-year-olds)! Sometimes, I could barely move when I got home from work, but I always felt a very strong sense of satisfaction. To this day, I consider my work on the farm the best thing I've ever done, in every sense of the word. When people asked me how I liked farming, I didn't know how to express this feeling, except to say it was "amazing." I didn't know, that is, until I met these men:
'Isa (عيسى in Arabic, meaning 'Jesus') left, and FaraH Dhib (فرح ذيب)'Isa and FaraH, two farmers who live in the village of Ajloon, Jordan, met my friend Noah and I on their way back to the town from the fields. We were looking for a shrine to St. George, and couldn't find it, so they showed us the way. After we arrived, they invited us to walk back to the city with them, which was a good 3 kilometers (1.87 miles). Glad for the company, we accepted and had a nice stroll down the mountain. When I found out they were farmers, I said that it must be hard walking 6 km per day in addition to their work.
"No," Farah said, "Baraka fil Haraka." It took me a moment to understand the phrase, but when it hit me, it bowled me over. It means "There is blessing in movement."
In the Islamic tradition (and therefore in all of the Arabic-speaking world. Farah is actually a Christian), baraka, or blessing is a very valuable thing indeed. It's not just a blessing as said by a religious leader, to put in a good word with God, so to speak. In some places, it's almost a tangible thing. Throughout the Islamic world, people visit the shrines of saints, sometimes traveling great distances to do so, in hopes of 'obtaining' baraka. The idea is that the saints were so pious, they lived their lives very close to God, and therefore were vessels for baraka, God's blessing. Even after their deaths, they can pass this blessing on by inspiring people to live better. So people visit them, offer gifts to the caretakers of the shrines, and say prayers for the saint and for their families in the hope of getting some of this spiritual inspiration.
So Farah was really saying that good old-fashioned hard work may be rough on the body, but it's like a double-chocolate fudge sundae with cherries, whipped cream, and sprinkles for the soul. That muted feeling of warm happiness that wraps you up and tucks you in after a day in the sun, that's baraka in my book. It seems to me that the satisfaction that comes with sweat is common to anyone who's ever spent a day in the dirt. And so I leave you to dream of burning muscles, singing in the sun, watermelon in the shade, and sinking into your bed while listening to the crickets through an open window, all in these three words:
بركة في الحركة
Wishing you Baraka,
The Regular Farmer
