“Things are different in the country,” says Jib as we cycle through the rural farmland of Sukhothai, Thailand. Sukhothai is a place, for many, that is merely a stopover as they make their way south to the beaches from Northern Thailand. Some come for a day and visit the ancient ruins, then it is onto the next big attraction.

I was one of these people, and with a couple extra days to spare, I booked an all day cycling tour touting itself as a nice scenic journey through the countryside of Sukhothai. It ended up being much more than a sightseeing tour, it was a glimpse into a way of life that is slowly vanishing.

Jib picked us up bright and early, wearing a crisp orange shirt, and took us to his family home. After fitting our bikes, we set off through the town. 

Our first stop was a wood mill, Jib explained that many rice farmers are out of work because of drought and the extremely low prices that the government offers for their crops. He estimated they were paid somewhere between 50-60% less than years prior. Not nearly enough for a farmer to make a living on, let alone support an entire family. Many have no choice but to walk away, or to only grow crops that provide enough sustenance to get their family through the year.

The wood mill was established as a means to an end, farmers can work there building various furniture pieces to be sold in Bangkok. There is no start time, no finish time, no set breaks. You simply work until the project is complete, as much or as little throughout the day as your schedule permits.

As Jib explained this, he again reiterates how so many farmers have lost their jobs because of the government. “Things are hard here,” he says. “Many people are leaving for jobs in Bangkok.” The big city life holds a lot of appeal for the struggling, small town farmer. Jib himself was one of those farmers who went to Bangkok at the age of 16. It wasn’t easy. He said that there is a lot of prejudice towards people from small villages. They are judged by the color of their skin, and how much darker it is from years of toil under the hot sun. “When I got to Bangkok I asked a lot of questions, I didn’t know things. People could tell I was a boy from a farm, they would take advantage of you, rip you off.”

After 10 years of working in Bangkok and Chiang Mai, Jib returned to support his family. He taught himself english and learned as much as he could about the tourism industry. His earnings for the bike tours help to support his entire family, but they struggle as they too were displaced from rice farming.

As we rode through the sweltering heat we met a woman plowing rice fields alone. Her husband left for Bangkok years ago, never to return. Her children abandoned the farm, so now she plows the fields alone, day after day. She barely makes enough to live on, but has no choice, it is her only means of survival.

This seems to be a recurring theme in the farmlands. Men leave their families, seeking a better income in the city, sending money for a while,  but then it eventually tapers off as they become more ingrained in their new world. 

Jib takes us to eat at a small lunch stall run by a woman supporting her entire family. She used to be a chef in Bangkok but returned home to take care of her ailing blind mother. Her husband refused to go with her, and shortly after her return, her teenage daughter became pregnant, leaving her no choice but to stay and support them all. 

As more and more people leave to pursue an opportune life in the city, and the government continues to reduce compensation for farmers, one can’t help but wonder what will happen to those who remain. A farm cannot be sustained forever run by an elderly woman. Will they simply just cease to exist? Will new government regulations come in with a better compensation structure? The uncertainty remains.

There is a gritty resolve among all of the people. They know the system is unjust, the pricing corrupt, the work backbreaking. Yet, they know that they have to do it, their very existence depends on it. Such is the life of a farmer.