The Village People

Once again I have no idea where to begin. Where could I possibly begin to describe two and a half weeks spent isolated in rural hilltribe villages of Northern Thailand? I promise when I get my laptop after this semester, I will put up some pictures although even that can't tell the whole story.

In all, we stayed in 5 different villages. The first village, we spent one night in. The next two villages we spent two nights in each. And the last two villages we spent five nights in each. To get from one to the other--we walked. For over two weeks I did not: ride in any motorized vehicle, sit on a toilet seat, take a hot (by hot I mean anything except breath-takingly cold) shower, use a sink, eat a meal without rice, see my own face, or even sit in a chair. Seriously.

All of the villages that we stayed in are Karen villages, which is one of the many different hilltribes that populate the area. They are well known for their kindness, hospitality, and also their weaving. Most of the women and some of the men still wear the traditional dress. They love their bright colors, including lots of flourescent pink. They also work hard (at least in these particular villages) to preserve other cultural traditions, such as blacksmithing, ancient songs, and herbal medicine-- all of which we got a chance to learn about and try. Their native language is Backinyaw. Much of the older generation, therefore, does not know Thai, which was beyond frustrating. But the majority of the villagers spoke at least some Thai, though it is a second language for them (not like that matters to us). The Karen are also known for their agricultural practices. Like most other hilltribes, they use a form of swidden agriculture which means basically that they burn a plot of forest, plant it for one year, then let it return to forest for up to ten years before farming that land again. But comparatively speaking, they tend to execute this in a very sustainable way. So much of our academic time was spent learning more about how they use their land, the impacts of that, and the problems they encounter. We also spent alot of time learning about the specifics of the different forest types that we passed through. But that's the boring stuff.

I'll start with the hikes. We had four big hikes, with our backpacks. Each was absolutely beautiful but also very different from the next. The first was along a river. We crossed it probably around 15 times. The deepest water that we encountered reached just above my knee. When we weren't crossing it, we were usually either right next to it or literally walking up the river, since a few sections of the river were contained by vertical rock walls, which didn't allow for a trail on either side (= GORGEOUS). Some of the river was calm and smooth, other parts were rocky and rapid, and there were even some small waterfalls scattered throughout. The most challenging part of the hike was its technicality, since it required alot of careful footing. I was also 'lucky' enough to see a snake slither right in front of my feet as I wandered off to go to the bathroom-- so that's always exciting. The next hike was the longest, as it took us 7 hours. But keep in mind, that always includes a lengthy lunch break. Whenever we hiked, our host families from the village we were leaving would pack us a lunch. This included a giant brick of rice wrapped in a banana leaf and some baggies of leftover dishes. More on food later. Anyways, this hike was nothing too spectacular, just your typical up (by up I mean straight up a steep slope)and down through tropical forests. The next hike was essentially like climbing a mountain. But it was especially enjoyable because someone in this country finally learned about switchbacks! We basically just headed up until the trees thinned and we were welcomed by an extraordinary view. It felt strangely familiar-- feeling like I was on top of everything and seeing only the continually lighter silouhettes of mountains deep into the horizon. Who knew Thailand's green mounatins could be so similar to the Rockies? The last hike was another long one but it had a little bit of everything: beautiful views, steep slopes, a few river crossings, and lots and lots of forest. On every hike we always had a couple of local guides. Often they were in flip flops. Often they were very small, older men. And often, they turned around once we reached our destination and walked back home the same day-- granted it would only take them half the amount of time to go back (they didn't have backpacks, okay?). So that was impressive. We also took two smaller day hikes during our time in the villages. One was to climb Doi Pui, the tallest mountain in the province. That offered even more spectacular mounatin views. Plus, we had our midcourse seminar at the top with out professor from Chiang Mai. Not a bad classroom if you ask me. The second small hike was to a 300 meter tall waterfall. wow.

But the real meat of this experience, in my opinion, was living with the families: eating their food, sleeping under their roofs, helping with their chores, and talking with them (or at least trying to). The houses were all somewhat similar. Many of them were built on stilts so that the water buffalo, pigs, and chickens could live underneath. Bamboo is a common building material which is used by making vertical cracks down the cyclinder and then unfolding it so that it lays flat. Walls were either this type of bamboo, wood slats, or every once in a while just nonexistent. If you were lucky, the floors were wood. Otherwise, they were the bamboo sheets which a total of about 4 students broke right through. Roofs were either thatched with palm leaves or made of tin. There was always a 'kitchen' which featured a continously burning wood fire pit and thats about it. Many families often also slept in this room. And then there was usually one or two other rooms that were largely empty as well. Most of the homes I stayed in had a small TV, though I'm not sure how many of them actually worked. They all had electricity thanks to solar panels. And they all had NO furniture. Students would always stay either two or three per house, where we would sleep on thin mats or folded quilts on the floor with mosquito nets hung above us. Bathrooms were outhouse style, unattached to the house. They featured a squat toilet, and a bucket shower. Those first few scoops of water were always rough but once you got your breath back, it was worth it to feel clean again.

The food turned out to be much better than I was expecting. In fact, in some villages, the food was actually good. Since they lived off of their land, there wasn't a ton of variety. We ate a lot of pumpkin, fired eggs, this cucumber/melon thing, pumpkin, ramon noodles, longbeans, and pumpkin. It's a good thing I loved that pumpkin. But surprisingly, I never had to eat anything really crazy. A few students found a rat head in their soup once but not me! I did watch one of my host mothers hold a dead squirrel by the tail and dunk it into the fire, but it remained on a shelf above the fire, smoking, until the day we left.

In an attempt to give a feeling for some of the experiences I have had with my families in the villages, the following is a small collection of brief stories:

One day, my host family took Allie and I to duu bplaa or "watch fish". At first we were a little confused, thinking maybe they really meant to "go fishing". But no. We walked through rice fields until we came to this small, water filled cave. Apparently, it is a sort of Buddhist shrine for the village. Therefore, nobody actually fishes there, but they do come to watch and feed the fish. Our adorable 2 year old host brother especially enjoyed this.

We spent an afternoon at the village school playing games with the kids. Even though the games were different, it was fascinating how similar the Karen kids' games were to those from our childhoods.

One of my host mothers took us to gather firewood with her. She is an older, very small woman. She wore the traditional woven skirt and shirt. She is nothing short a sweet old lady. And she absolutely showed us up with a machete. Then, she carried a huge basket full of wood on her back by a strap wrapped across her forehead.

During one of the longer homestays, we stayed in a Christian village. My housemates and I became really close to our family in the short time that we stayed there. One thing that I will never forget is sitting next to the fire in their kitchen, with a belly full of rice and pumpkin, and learning to sing Backinyaw church songs. And then, at the cultural exchange, watching our host father's face as we sang those songs for the entire village. He looked like he could burst with pride.

At that same village, we discovered a giant (softball sized) spider uncomfortably close to our bags and beds. So what did we do? Go get our Pati (host dad) and beg for help. He had just the solution. After assessing the problem, he returned to the room with a stick. And poked it. What the heck is that supposed to do? Not surprisngly, the spider would just run around in completely unpredictable directions, causing us girls to squeal a little everytime. Eventually, by some stroke of luck, it scurried through a slat in the wall and left the room.

It is November and in Thailand that means...rice harvest! So in one of the villagers, we spent a day helping our families with this incredibly important process. All of the families were at different points in the harvest so we all ended up doing different things. Some were cutting down the rice stalks. Some were bundling and tying the stalks together. Some, like me, were thrashing the bundles to seperate the husked rice from the stalks. Basically, we just whacked the stalks against this half cyclindrical, slanted piece of wood until the rice kernels had all fallen off. This task wasn't too difficult but I can't imagine going out to the field and harvesting day after day. It is an incredible amount of work, but does result in the family's rice for an entire year. It really felt like an honor to be part of such a truly sacred and traditional activity.

I awoke one morning to find my three year old host brother sitting beside an outdoor firepit. He was pulling pieces of wood out of the fire and sharpening the ends with a machete. A real fire. A real, sharp machete. A real three year old boy. But... he was good at it. He is the son of a blacksmith.

So hopefully this helps shed some light on what I've been up to. I know this is long, but I also know I cannot convey how incredible this experience truly was. It has given me alot to think about, and is something that I will never forget. I am so thankful to heve had this opportunity. Speaking of, Happy Thanksgiving!!