I was greeted by the same view of large fields everywhere I looked. By midday, the rice had already been harvested, leaving the field brown. There were patches of local feed for animals, and I saw cows and goats wandering in the calm pastures.

The road we took led to the gate of Clayland Plantation. The smell of fresh paint told me that the property, like the fields around it, was well-maintained. When we got to the property, I rolled down the car window to take in the fresh scent of flowers spread across the grounds. When the car finally stopped in front of the house, I took a deep...