(Edited on canva.)
We go instant camping inside the roof of our church. Hello Hivers! Bhamshell is on the go again to share another memorable experience that happened in my hometown during the summer before entering again into boarding house life.
My parents love to care for animals. It gives them joy and strength, just like working in the field (knowing that it also gives and provides financially if times are needed). Our pastor in church owned a sow. Our pastor didn't have time to handle and didn't have an idea on how to care for the sow, so he decided to have it cared for by my mother with one condition: if the mama pig is pregnant and gives birth to a large piglet, they will divide it accordingly. My mother agreed. After it comes home, we give it a name: Pingkotchai. For a funny reason (I guess, hahaha), the nickname of the wife of our pastor is Ping-ping, and the nickname of their daughter is Kotchi. In other words, we combine it and elevate it into a nice name for our new pet.
Time goes by, and Pingkotchai is pregnant. And after how many months of being pregnant, giving birth to plenty of piglets is expected.
Thursday evening, my parents are obliged to be attentive and need to sleep near Pingkotchai, for she is giving a sign of giving birth. According to them, at first they didn't want to sleep inside the tent but instead inside the church, and they will only use two sheets of plywood as their foam for fewer things to bring. From home, they bring pillows and blankets for each other. In the middle of a peaceful night, mosquitoes don't let them sleep tight, and my father is uncomfortable with this scenario. He gets his blanket, holds it tight, puts it on top, and casts back it. After doing it five times, he takes a rest and does it again. With that, my mother is now uncomfortable with what my father does. So, they decided to get it and immediately assemble it.
When morning came, my mother was so sleepy, for she's not able to get a better sleep, thinking that Pingkotchai would give birth that night. But their day went as usual after not getting enough sleep. My father went to the farm, and my mother continued to feed and check the condition of Pingkotchai.
A photo of Pingkotchai breastfeeding her piglets.
A photo of Pingkotchai's piglets are sleeping.
Evening comes, and my father wasn't able to join my mother in sleeping on the tent for some reason. I and my youngest sister decided that we two would join my mother in sleeping on the tent to have some time and bond as well. And the one reason that I decided to join them in sleeping with them in the tent is to see how Pingkotchai will deliver out her piglets.
Through this, I am able to have another moment with my mother and youngest sister.
My sister is playing on the phone while my mother is praying.
As I reflect back on that memorable summer night, I realize how much that experience meant to me. Camping out with my mother and sister in the church, eagerly awaiting Pingkotchai's piglets, brought us closer together. We may have been a bit sleep-deprived, swatting mosquitoes and making do with simple bedding, but those small inconveniences faded in the joy of our shared anticipation.
Caring for animals has always been a source of happiness for my parents, and in that moment, I understood why. The sense of responsibility, the thrill of new life, and the simple pleasure of watching over a creature - it's a profound experience. As I lay there in the tent, listening to my mother's steady breathing and my sister's occasional murmurs, I felt a deep appreciation for the bonds of family.
That night, I learned that true connection doesn't require grand gestures or elaborate plans. Sometimes, it's found in the quiet moments, the shared experiences, the simple act of being present with those you love. Pingkotchai's piglets may have been the catalyst for our impromptu campout, but the real treasure was the time we spent together, hearts and minds in sync, creating a memory that will forever be etched in my mind.
As I prepare to return to boarding school, I know that I carry this experience with me, a reminder that family is the foundation upon which all else is built. And who knows - maybe one day, I'll have the chance to share a similar moment with my own children, passing on the legacy of love, responsibility, and the simple joys that make life so rich.
