S1 Red
Heat the colour of fire, sky as heavy as mud, and under both the soil — hard, dry, unyielding.
It was a silent harvest. Across the valley, yellow rice fields stretched, stooped and dry. The sun glazed the afternoon with a heat so fierce that the distant mountains shimmered in it. The dust in the sky, the cracked earth, the shrivelled leaves fluttering on brittle branches — everything was scorched.
Fanning out in a jagged line across the fields were the harvesters, their sickles flashing in the sun. Nobody spoke. Nobody laughed. Nobody sang. The only noise was wave after wave of sullen hisses as the rice stalks were slashed and flung to the ground.
A single lark flew by, casting a swift shadow on the stubbled fields. From under the brim of her hat, Jinda saw it wing its way west. It flew to a tamarind tree at the foot of the mountain, circled it three times and flew away.
A good sign, Jinda thought. Maybe the harvest won’t be so poor after all. She straightened up, feeling prickles of pain shoot up her spine, and gazed at the brown fields before her. In all her seventeen years, Jinda had never seen a crop as bad as this one. The heads of grain were so light the rice stalks were hardly bent under their weight. Jinda peeled the husk of one grain open: the rice grain inside was no thicker than a fingernail.
Sighing, she bent back to work. A trickle of sweat ran down between her breasts and into the well of her navel. Her shirt stuck to her in clammy patches, and the sickle handle was damp in her palm. She reached for a sheaf of rice stalks and slashed through it.
Reach and slash, reach and slash, it was a rhythm she must have been born knowing, she thought, so deeply ingrained was it in her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the hem of her sister Dao’s sarong, faded grey where once the bright flowered pattern had been. Dao was stooped even lower than the other harvesters in their row, and was panting slightly as she strained to keep up.
From the edge of the field came the sudden sound of a thin, shrill wail.
‘Your baby’s crying, Dao,’ Jinda said.
Her sister ignored her.
‘Oi’s crying,’ Jinda repeated. ‘Can’t you hear him?’
‘I hear him.’
‘Maybe he’s hungry. Why don’t you feed him?’
‘Why don’t you mind your own business?’
‘But couldn’t you try?’ Jinda insisted, as the wailing got louder. ‘I think you should at least try.’
Dao slashed through a sheaf of stalks and flung them to the ground. ‘When I want your advice, sister,’ she said, ‘I’ll ask for it.’
They did not speak again for the rest of the afternoon. The baby cried intermittently, but Jinda did her best to ignore it.
How different this is from past harvests, Jinda thought. Just three years ago, before the drought, she and Dao had gaily chatted away as they cut stalks heavy with grain. They had talked about what they might buy after the harvest — new sarongs, some ducklings, a bottle of honey. And as they talked, the dark handsome Ghan had sung love songs across the fields to Dao, until her face turned so red she had to run down to the river and splash cold water on it.
Ghan and Dao were considered a perfect match by the whole village. After all, weren’t their fathers two of the most important men in Maekung? True, there was a deep, silent hostility between Dao’s father, the village headman, and Ghan’s father, the village healer, but that only seemed all the more reason why a union between their children would be auspicious.
So when Dao and Ghan were married, the whole village attended the wedding. All that morning the hundred or so families of Maekung each took their turn to tie the sacred thread around the bridal couple’s wrists, and after the elaborate wedding feast, countless couples, young and old, had danced the Ramwong until the moon rose high above the palm trees and the kerosene lanterns were lit.
There had been so much of everything then, Jinda thought wistfully, so much food and nice wine, so much music and movement, and best of all, so much laughter.
And now, just two very poor harvests later, there was never any laughter, nothing but the whisper of sickles against dry stalks in parched fields. Ghan had left to work in the city even before their son was born, and Dao — poor Dao, Jinda thought, stealing a glance at her sister’s grim face — Dao had become a shadow of herself.
When twilight finally came, the line of harvesters broke up, and the men and women straggled back to the edge of the fields. Most rested under the shade of little thatched lean-tos, fanning themselves with their hats, while others ladled water from rusty buckets and drank deeply.
Jinda tucked her sickle into the waist of her sarong and walked up to her sister.
‘Want to go down to the river?’ she asked.
‘Too tired,’ Dao said, massaging her back with one hand.
‘You can stretch out under the banyan tree by the river bank.’
‘And the baby?’
‘Bring him of course. He likes the cool water, and you like bathing him. And me, I like watching the two of you together.’
Dao smiled then, and Jinda knew their fight was over. ‘All right,’ Dao said, ‘I’ll go and get the baby.’
Section A
Underline the best ending.
1. Jinda pesters Dao about the baby’s crying because / Dao is an incompetent mother.she is cross about Dao’s neglect.
she knows more about babies than Dao.
she is concerned about the baby.
2. ‘Dao slashed through a sheaf of stalks and flung them to the ground.’
This suggests Dao is feeling / exhausted.
cross.
anxious.
depressed.
3. Dao and Ghan were considered a ‘perfect match’
because / many people came to the wedding.
they came from different villages.
their fathers were both important people.
Dao’s father wanted to be chief.
4. Villagers thought the wedding would / bring the families together.
deepen the hostility.
make the fathers more important.
make the families richer.
5. As a result of the drought, Dao’s husband / put himself first.
was forced to work harder.
became cruel to Dao.
left to find other employment.
6. What Jinda misses most about past harvests is / plentiful food.
music and dancing.
lots of laughter.
new clothes.
Section B
1. ‘Heat the colour of fire.’
What is unusual about this expression?
______
2. ‘unyielding’ (1st paragraph)
What does this word suggest about the soil?
______
3. Write down the metaphor which describes the formation of the workers in the field.
______
4. Find an example of onomatopoeia which describes harvest sounds.
______
5. ‘A good sign, Jinda thought.’
a. To what was Jinda referring?
______
b. What does this suggest about her?
______
6. ‘Reach and slash, reach and slash…’
What effect does the author achieve with this repetitive sentence?
______
______
7. The author describes Dao’s clothing: ‘faded grey where once the bright flowered pattern had been.’
a. What impression is given of the change in Dao’s personality from this description?
______
b. What expression later in the passage reinforces this idea?
______
8. ‘From the edge of the field came the sudden sound of a thin, shrill wail.’ In what way is this an effective development at this point in the passage?
______
______
9. Give two reasons why Jinda persists in trying to support Dao despite having been told to mind her own business.
i. ______
ii. ______
10. Supporting your answer with a quote from the text, suggest a reason why the passage is called ‘Silent Harvest’.
______
______
Section C
Here is a summary of the passage. Fill in the gaps using one or more words in each space. You may use words from the passage or your own words.
In the ______, the silent harvesters cut the rice.
1
Jinda had never seen such ______. Bent over and
2
sweating, she worked in ______way.
3
The silence was broken by ______but, despite
4
Jinda’s ______, Dao ______.
5 6
Before the drought, it had been a time of ______.
7
Dao and Ghan gave everyone cause to ______,
8
but now it was ______. As evening came, Jinda and
9
Dao, now ______, decided to ______.
10 11
Last Page
This is the last page of the Assessment.
It can be discarded.
8
Silent Harvest