The tractor that taught me to say no

Today we’re hauling manure. Or rather: we’re walking it.
Yes, you heard that right – we’re walking the manure.
Sounds weird? It is. But it’s true.

What that means: We’re moving the old manure pile from here to there using just a wheelbarrow and sheer muscle power.

And no, we’re not using a tractor.
Even though we’re paying for it.
And even though, technically, we’d be allowed to.

Now someone might be thinking:
Huh? The landlord did give you permission to use the tractor. So why are you doing it all by hand?

The answer is simple:
I’m no longer allowed to drive the tractor. And here’s how that happened:

There’s an overgrown path on the property that leads down to the river. Recently, I asked the landlord if I could help mow it for him—just like that.
I was already planning to clear the pasture of nettles and thought: Why not do him a favor?

All I wanted to know was how to correctly set the mower so it would actually cut at ground level.

What I expected?
Something like:
“Oh, that’s kind of you. Here’s how to adjust the mower.”

A normal, human conversation.

What I got instead?
A half-hour (!) lecture. At the lowest possible level.

“You’re not driving the tractor anymore.”
“You don’t understand the machine.”
“You’re riding the clutch.”
—And again: clutch, clutch, clutch.
“Can’t your husband do it?”

Now, my husband can do a lot of things. But when it comes to driving that tractor—I’m better. Period.
Of course, I didn’t say that. I just listened.

The same sentences, over and over again.
I don’t think the man even breathed while he was talking.

If you’re reading this—especially as a woman, but also as a man—you can probably imagine how I was boiling inside.

I was so angry. So burning with rage.

But I knew:
If I spoke honestly in that moment, the rental agreement would be over. Just like that.
So I swallowed it. I calmly said:
“Okay. It’s your tractor.”

And then I let him yell at me.
Let myself be belittled.
Endured something that really shouldn’t have to be endured.

But I made a decision:
Never again.
I won’t keep bending. I won’t let myself be made small.

Why should I?
What gives some people the right to treat others that way?

That’s why we’re hauling the manure by wheelbarrow today.
With dignity.
With strength.
With purpose.

And honestly? It feels good. Even physically.

But there was something beautiful today, too:
We looked at different living containers and mobile homes — little dreams on wheels that might soon become our new home.