This morning, among the dry bushes and scattered branches, I rediscovered an object so familiar in the lives of farmers: a caping (hat). Made of woven bamboo, sewn with contrasting pink thread, the hat lay on the ground, facing the blue sky that hadn't yet fully risen. The white string on the inside dangled gently, as if still holding traces of sweat and stories from its wearer, who knows where.
Seeing the hat, my thoughts immediately drifted back to my childhood, when I often accompanied my father to the rice fields. The caping provided protection from the scorching sun, but more than that, it symbolized perseverance, hard work, and the close relationship between humans and nature. This simple object had been a silent witness to early mornings that began before sunrise, the sound of a hoe hitting the wet soil, and the afternoon rest under a coconut tree while sipping water from a glass bottle, as seen next to it.
There's something special about simple objects like these. They may not say anything, but they hold stories about who wore them, where they walked, and what they experienced. This hat, for example, may have covered the head of someone planting rice with high hopes for a bountiful harvest. It may have been exposed to rain, heat, wind, or even fallen into mud and dried on a rock.
Seeing it lying on the ground, alone among the dry twigs and leaves, I felt like I was witnessing a fragment of a life left behind. Perhaps its owner had simply put it down for a moment to rest. Or perhaps, he or she would never return. But this hat remains, waiting to be used again, or simply as a memento of a quiet, simple life in the fields.
I took this photo not simply for documentation, but as a small tribute to the farmers who tirelessly tend the land, sow seeds, and hope in the heavens. Their world is often invisible, but through small objects like this hat, we can trace the traces of their lives.
| Photographer | Smartphone used | Location |
|---|---|---|
 | Realme C53 | Aceh Province. Indonesian Country. |
