It was melon season. Endrah, a student of mine, having known I loved melons, invited me to his family's farm in a nearby village. Endrah was one of my best students that year and I was very eager to meet his family. We arrived at the farm which had every type of melon imagineable. Endrah's parents received me with a kindness and nonchalant style that I had yet to experience during my first year. They treated me like a person, not like a foreigner. Endrah's sister Flora was running around the fields, she was probably about 6 years-old, smiling mouthful of rotting teeth. One of thing struck me the most about that day - despite how young Endrah's parents were (mid-30s), his father's hands looked well beyond his years. His hands conveyed a story of integrity, hard work, endless sweat, and evidence of the type of hard labor he had experienced throughout his young life. I thought about farmers all over the world who work back breaking hours in the sun to feed the world. He always smiled.