and it feels so good.
For The Win
Cambodians are pushy.
Or what is more accurate is that everybody else in Southeast Asia is pushier than Thais.
I was wondering why halfway during the day I was exhausted, barely able to keep up with Ryan as he climbed our third temple. I had done more physical exercise than I'd done in a long time; some moss covered temple steps were steeper than others and at some sites there was much more to see but my head buzzed with mental fatigue. My refuel sirens were screaming. I had given my introvert soul to literally calvacades of Cambodian hawkers.
In all of my travels, I don't think have ever met a more persistent people group. I mean it can be rough when tourists meet vendors anywhere in this world but I was unprepared for this kind of attention. Coming out from underneath jungle canopies and dirt paths waiting for you are at least 4 groups of men, women, and children determined to get you to walk away with a guide book, scarf, bracelet, t-shirt, sarong, fiddle, or bottle of water. Never say die was the motivation and if you were lucky you could get away before you were separated from your tuk tuk.
In massive Angkor Archaelogical park there has to be at least 300 independent vendors working for other people.
"Laydee! You want scarf! You buy scarf for your mother!"
"Laydee. Water! You buy WATER! Just one dollar. One dollar."
"No. T-shirt. Madam, you buy. You buy t-shirt from me. From me"
"Lay-dee. You buy for your tree. Your christmas tree. Only 2,000 riel!"
"You come back you buy postcard from ME!
There has also never been a squad appealing so much to the principle of fairness in my life. I made the mistake of buying bamboo bracelets I liked better from a latecoming child and the early boy and his sister floated around my restaurant seat for half-an hour chastising me harshly for my sheer discourtesy. "I asked you first,"the little boy hissed in my ear. Ït not fair. I asked you first. You no buy from meee." Yes, take my heart and serve it to me on a plate. Fork, please. I thought this might be just for the children, but when i kept my promise to a breakfast vendor who found me at daybreak for my business, her brother complimented me profusely later when he overheard me tell another vendor I had a promise to keep. You can't come to Cambodia and not do what you said you're going to. You have got to be fair about this tourist business.
They remember. And they are expressive about it.
I sighed to myself, as a woman pushed the same Angkor guide book on me that had been offered to me for the past four hours. I had been wrangled into three t-shirts, 4 bottles of water, 10 bracelets, 10 postcards, one scarf, and one dress. I didn't want another thing. The children were brutal. Their big eyes and shiny hair, little hands spreading out all of their baskets of jewelry, their words moving too fast for you to interrupt them. They're terribly cute but can be the meanest.
"Sorry doesn't give me anything."
"You can pay! You have credit card!
"You no buy because you hate Cambodians!!
"YOU BUY!!
Anna may or may not have been been called "whore" by a 6-year old.
You had to hand it to the Cambodians. Their agressiveness made sense. There were less tourists to Cambodia these days. If everybody in the group was agressive, you had to be more aggressive to beat the heads of the pack. If you wanted to eat, send your children to school, and pay person you were renting your stall from, you had to go for the gusto. It's like having a bucket of ice water thrown over you in bed when you cross the border into a land where anger, dislike, irritation, amusement, and appreciation is so open on the countenances of people you encounter. Thais would never spend their time trying to pry money from anyone--they're too proud for that--and if they did become upset over something you had done, they'd have negative emotions and lose face. Foreigners just aren't worth that much. We were leaving the second temple and I began to start wincing. God Almighty, they're going to try to sell me water and a magnet again.
The great thing about being here was that in one hour you had more interaction with a group of Khmer than you have had for 2 months with the Thai and they were cunning. They played tick-tak-toe and devised puzzle schemes to secure sales. We, tourists, DID have more money than them, but if I gave 70 people one dollar for all of their wares, I'd have hostel room I couldn't pay for, full of things I couldn't transport, and I wouldn't be able to eat for the rest of the week. If you treated them with respect, they'd forget you were a tourist for a minute and shower you with conversation and laughter. But I'm sure most European backpackers became fed up half-way through and probably yelled at them. Four temples in, I decided I had to do something. How could I keep my money but be an honorable person at the same time? I prayed to Jesus, God, please show me the Third Way. It hit me when a Khmer child rattled off my nation's capital. Most widely used tactic: ask immediately where the tourist is from when they deny you. If it is America, the capital was Washington D.C. and their president is Obama. Now buy from me. But....did they know the capital of Arkansas? Did they even know that midwesty state even existed? If they had, I decided, they deserved my money.
They gave me the opportunity and I tried it. If you can tell me the capital, I will buy whatever you have. A group of girls hmmed and hawwed. They mispronounced it. They asked each other in Khmer. Nothing. No one knew and instead of bothering me for another 20 minutes, they bothered me for another 3. They acknowledged what's fair was fair. I went the rest of the way dangling the bait and they laughed at their cleverness turned back at them. Most thought Montana and Louisiana were countries. Sometimes it worked better than others because many wanted something easier! And telling me countries to guess the capital of wasn't working either (Thanks, Roinilla). They slinked away as I kept walking trying to figure out where in the world Maryland could be.
At the final temple, I walked slowly and heavily with the day pressed on my shoulders. I sat down as I saw another beautiful little girl walk over to me with sarongs and t-shirts draped over her shoulders. She asked if I'd buy, I denied, she asked my country, I told her, she told me the capital and I smiled weakly in lethargy. I laughed, okay. One more time. I have a deal for you. Are you good at capitals? Ï am!"she piped quickly with confidence. "I know!"and I laughed again. They all knew. If you can guess this capital, I will buy something from you. But only if. What's fair is fair." She nodded quickly and waited in excited anticipation. The silence in which she stood was astounding. "What--is the capital of Montana?
"Helena!!!" She burst, jumping up and down.
Holy crap, Are you kidding me!?!? Ryan and I clapped in hysterical disbelief! She knew it! I had done this alll day and she was the only one! I had lost! I informed her she had surely won and we practically skipped to her stall and she glowed in her win. I thought that Montana might have been a lucky guess but she kept going, just as pleased at winning as I was for her, intent to show me she really was good at this. "And the capital of New Mexico is Santa Fe! And the capital of Arkansas is Little Rock! And the capital of Vermont is Montpelier! And the capital of Nevada is Reno....no, no, CARSON CITTTYYYYY!" she crooned through laughter that boisterously sparkeled. It was incredible. This teenager made my heart burst with joy. We talked, we laughed, I purchased. It was great.
At her stall, we found out that she and her (almost identical) sister knew 6 languages at conversational levels. Ryan spent the next 15 minutes talking to them in Spanish. As I sat there waiting for Ryan to finish buying a t-shirt from her sister, I spotted the Capital Genius asking two more westerners to buy her wares.
I called out to them, "Buy from her! She is incredibly bright! She knows that the capital of New Mexico is Santa Fe, and that the capital of Arkansas is Little Rock, and that the capital of Vermont is--
"Montpelier!" the American exclaimed in pleasure. "I know! She told me! That's where I'm from!" and my new friend and I laughed together, the American in the chair, and the Cambodian with silk sarongs hung over both shoulders.
Or what is more accurate is that everybody else in Southeast Asia is pushier than Thais.
I was wondering why halfway during the day I was exhausted, barely able to keep up with Ryan as he climbed our third temple. I had done more physical exercise than I'd done in a long time; some moss covered temple steps were steeper than others and at some sites there was much more to see but my head buzzed with mental fatigue. My refuel sirens were screaming. I had given my introvert soul to literally calvacades of Cambodian hawkers.
In all of my travels, I don't think have ever met a more persistent people group. I mean it can be rough when tourists meet vendors anywhere in this world but I was unprepared for this kind of attention. Coming out from underneath jungle canopies and dirt paths waiting for you are at least 4 groups of men, women, and children determined to get you to walk away with a guide book, scarf, bracelet, t-shirt, sarong, fiddle, or bottle of water. Never say die was the motivation and if you were lucky you could get away before you were separated from your tuk tuk.
In massive Angkor Archaelogical park there has to be at least 300 independent vendors working for other people.
"Laydee! You want scarf! You buy scarf for your mother!"
"Laydee. Water! You buy WATER! Just one dollar. One dollar."
"No. T-shirt. Madam, you buy. You buy t-shirt from me. From me"
"Lay-dee. You buy for your tree. Your christmas tree. Only 2,000 riel!"
"You come back you buy postcard from ME!
There has also never been a squad appealing so much to the principle of fairness in my life. I made the mistake of buying bamboo bracelets I liked better from a latecoming child and the early boy and his sister floated around my restaurant seat for half-an hour chastising me harshly for my sheer discourtesy. "I asked you first,"the little boy hissed in my ear. Ït not fair. I asked you first. You no buy from meee." Yes, take my heart and serve it to me on a plate. Fork, please. I thought this might be just for the children, but when i kept my promise to a breakfast vendor who found me at daybreak for my business, her brother complimented me profusely later when he overheard me tell another vendor I had a promise to keep. You can't come to Cambodia and not do what you said you're going to. You have got to be fair about this tourist business.
They remember. And they are expressive about it.
I sighed to myself, as a woman pushed the same Angkor guide book on me that had been offered to me for the past four hours. I had been wrangled into three t-shirts, 4 bottles of water, 10 bracelets, 10 postcards, one scarf, and one dress. I didn't want another thing. The children were brutal. Their big eyes and shiny hair, little hands spreading out all of their baskets of jewelry, their words moving too fast for you to interrupt them. They're terribly cute but can be the meanest.
"Sorry doesn't give me anything."
"You can pay! You have credit card!
"You no buy because you hate Cambodians!!
"YOU BUY!!
Anna may or may not have been been called "whore" by a 6-year old.
You had to hand it to the Cambodians. Their agressiveness made sense. There were less tourists to Cambodia these days. If everybody in the group was agressive, you had to be more aggressive to beat the heads of the pack. If you wanted to eat, send your children to school, and pay person you were renting your stall from, you had to go for the gusto. It's like having a bucket of ice water thrown over you in bed when you cross the border into a land where anger, dislike, irritation, amusement, and appreciation is so open on the countenances of people you encounter. Thais would never spend their time trying to pry money from anyone--they're too proud for that--and if they did become upset over something you had done, they'd have negative emotions and lose face. Foreigners just aren't worth that much. We were leaving the second temple and I began to start wincing. God Almighty, they're going to try to sell me water and a magnet again.
The great thing about being here was that in one hour you had more interaction with a group of Khmer than you have had for 2 months with the Thai and they were cunning. They played tick-tak-toe and devised puzzle schemes to secure sales. We, tourists, DID have more money than them, but if I gave 70 people one dollar for all of their wares, I'd have hostel room I couldn't pay for, full of things I couldn't transport, and I wouldn't be able to eat for the rest of the week. If you treated them with respect, they'd forget you were a tourist for a minute and shower you with conversation and laughter. But I'm sure most European backpackers became fed up half-way through and probably yelled at them. Four temples in, I decided I had to do something. How could I keep my money but be an honorable person at the same time? I prayed to Jesus, God, please show me the Third Way. It hit me when a Khmer child rattled off my nation's capital. Most widely used tactic: ask immediately where the tourist is from when they deny you. If it is America, the capital was Washington D.C. and their president is Obama. Now buy from me. But....did they know the capital of Arkansas? Did they even know that midwesty state even existed? If they had, I decided, they deserved my money.
They gave me the opportunity and I tried it. If you can tell me the capital, I will buy whatever you have. A group of girls hmmed and hawwed. They mispronounced it. They asked each other in Khmer. Nothing. No one knew and instead of bothering me for another 20 minutes, they bothered me for another 3. They acknowledged what's fair was fair. I went the rest of the way dangling the bait and they laughed at their cleverness turned back at them. Most thought Montana and Louisiana were countries. Sometimes it worked better than others because many wanted something easier! And telling me countries to guess the capital of wasn't working either (Thanks, Roinilla). They slinked away as I kept walking trying to figure out where in the world Maryland could be.
At the final temple, I walked slowly and heavily with the day pressed on my shoulders. I sat down as I saw another beautiful little girl walk over to me with sarongs and t-shirts draped over her shoulders. She asked if I'd buy, I denied, she asked my country, I told her, she told me the capital and I smiled weakly in lethargy. I laughed, okay. One more time. I have a deal for you. Are you good at capitals? Ï am!"she piped quickly with confidence. "I know!"and I laughed again. They all knew. If you can guess this capital, I will buy something from you. But only if. What's fair is fair." She nodded quickly and waited in excited anticipation. The silence in which she stood was astounding. "What--is the capital of Montana?
"Helena!!!" She burst, jumping up and down.
Holy crap, Are you kidding me!?!? Ryan and I clapped in hysterical disbelief! She knew it! I had done this alll day and she was the only one! I had lost! I informed her she had surely won and we practically skipped to her stall and she glowed in her win. I thought that Montana might have been a lucky guess but she kept going, just as pleased at winning as I was for her, intent to show me she really was good at this. "And the capital of New Mexico is Santa Fe! And the capital of Arkansas is Little Rock! And the capital of Vermont is Montpelier! And the capital of Nevada is Reno....no, no, CARSON CITTTYYYYY!" she crooned through laughter that boisterously sparkeled. It was incredible. This teenager made my heart burst with joy. We talked, we laughed, I purchased. It was great.
At her stall, we found out that she and her (almost identical) sister knew 6 languages at conversational levels. Ryan spent the next 15 minutes talking to them in Spanish. As I sat there waiting for Ryan to finish buying a t-shirt from her sister, I spotted the Capital Genius asking two more westerners to buy her wares.
I called out to them, "Buy from her! She is incredibly bright! She knows that the capital of New Mexico is Santa Fe, and that the capital of Arkansas is Little Rock, and that the capital of Vermont is--
"Montpelier!" the American exclaimed in pleasure. "I know! She told me! That's where I'm from!" and my new friend and I laughed together, the American in the chair, and the Cambodian with silk sarongs hung over both shoulders.
Let Us Do The Going
:rain:
It didn't even look like it was going to rain.
Look at all that rain; it's coming down. Mmm, I love
that sound. So much water clearing the heat away.
...wait! Oh, crap. MY CLOTHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
and that's when you realize there are serious drawbacks to not owning a clothes dryer. In tropical climates, though fabulous, weather is a capricious lover. The fact that your clothes have been hanging on the line not 5 minutes mean nothing to it--at any point in time, your soapy smelling fabric, your stained skirt you couldn't get the curry blot out of, your underwear is toast. kaptuz. a gonner. I need those clothes by morning! I pick my cotton up from the soil. I don't even want to talk about the ants that make clotheslines into a tightrope show.
Thunder threatens again in the distance. I bite my thumb at thee, sir.
I spent an exhausting day in muggy Chiang Mai city trying to get my errands done. I fixed my cell phone (that's right, you heard me :glare:) at AIS, a Thai telecom company, turned in a shirt and dress to be mended at Valentinos: the International Tailor (ooh la la) for $100 baht (about $4.oo which probably could have paid less if I had devoted more time finding a Thai tailor), and went on the hunt for some Doxy tablets for Anna. I met this great woman named Samia, who was running some sort of sketchy healing/dancing retreat and fingered her telephone number wondering when I'd call her now on a phone that finally works. Though hot, I smiled at how composed I was becoming in town. I think I felt the same way over the two-month mark in Uganda. I know where I am going, I know when to cross the street, I know how to bargain at the appropriate time, balancing smile--show teeth but not too much; bowed head to show humility--with a slightly insistent eyebrow. Isn't that price a little high? Thais walk confidently, yet quickly down streets. I match their speed; I have places to go just like everyone else who lives here.
I wake up every morning looking at green cascading mountains looming above rice fields and people cultivating them in pointed hats like you see in pictures and documentaries, but this morning was unmatched. At HQ, I went to close the blinds to block out the morning glare across my webcam and ended up leaving Bryce waiting. What kind of SKY! The mental picture: green rice stalks on the bottom, hazy white fog from right above their tips up to the clouds, the black silhouette of the Buddhist temple on the hill, and a big-round-sun-ball-of magma jutting out of the whiteness just to the right of the black facade. Wonder. I thought the sun could only do that at sunset.
Back in the street, after finding malaria medicine, I unfortunately ended up behind two western men and two very tiny Thai women. The short 20-something guy closest to me, held his hand stiffly on the small of her back, as his host wrapped her arms around herself. Her black, clumpy sweatshirt overpowered her small shoes. His posture seemed to acknowledge this wasn't going as well as he planned either. She looked toward the street and he, ahead. The woman in front engaged with her chum a little bit more. Her tall stilettos made her sway her frayed mini-mini skirt with better utility, despite minor dips into cracked concrete. The men laughed forcefully at a joke. A large, purple bruise showed underneath her cute leather ankle strap.
But with all the preparations and errands done, I hope to have more observations outside of this house because I am getting out of this house. Tomorrow starts our sabbath. THE INTERNS ARE GOING ON VACATION! Here. To here, my dear family and friends:
after months of being strapped to computers and stressing over professors who defy logistics, the interns are going to see the country. An epic sightseeing rove. Anna and I are taking a 13-hour train south to Bangkok, meeting the boys at the train station (they're down there at a Disaster Relief conference right now), then a 2 hour train to the border of Cambodia, a bus from the border to Siem Reap, then we'll spend a few days at Angkor. "They" say you can't see the whole temple in one day. After that, we'll take some kind of 6 hour transpo to Phenom Penh, then back to the border, one ferry, and pop up at the resort the students will be at on one of southern Thailand's beach islands. I eye my extremely tight pocket book and turn my mind to happier things. Like...new languages and other backpackers with "scam me" written all over their fanny packs. :shudders: those things! Two weeks. I'll try to post pictures if we run into internet cafes.
After that our teachers will begin teaching. The students will reel from the amount of reading. I will try to satisfy professor needs and threaten the sky with my fist. While a thin kid from Ohio stands beside me {for a month!!!} trying to figure out what to make of the world.
It didn't even look like it was going to rain.
Look at all that rain; it's coming down. Mmm, I love
that sound. So much water clearing the heat away.
...wait! Oh, crap. MY CLOTHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
and that's when you realize there are serious drawbacks to not owning a clothes dryer. In tropical climates, though fabulous, weather is a capricious lover. The fact that your clothes have been hanging on the line not 5 minutes mean nothing to it--at any point in time, your soapy smelling fabric, your stained skirt you couldn't get the curry blot out of, your underwear is toast. kaptuz. a gonner. I need those clothes by morning! I pick my cotton up from the soil. I don't even want to talk about the ants that make clotheslines into a tightrope show.
Thunder threatens again in the distance. I bite my thumb at thee, sir.
I spent an exhausting day in muggy Chiang Mai city trying to get my errands done. I fixed my cell phone (that's right, you heard me :glare:) at AIS, a Thai telecom company, turned in a shirt and dress to be mended at Valentinos: the International Tailor (ooh la la) for $100 baht (about $4.oo which probably could have paid less if I had devoted more time finding a Thai tailor), and went on the hunt for some Doxy tablets for Anna. I met this great woman named Samia, who was running some sort of sketchy healing/dancing retreat and fingered her telephone number wondering when I'd call her now on a phone that finally works. Though hot, I smiled at how composed I was becoming in town. I think I felt the same way over the two-month mark in Uganda. I know where I am going, I know when to cross the street, I know how to bargain at the appropriate time, balancing smile--show teeth but not too much; bowed head to show humility--with a slightly insistent eyebrow. Isn't that price a little high? Thais walk confidently, yet quickly down streets. I match their speed; I have places to go just like everyone else who lives here.
I wake up every morning looking at green cascading mountains looming above rice fields and people cultivating them in pointed hats like you see in pictures and documentaries, but this morning was unmatched. At HQ, I went to close the blinds to block out the morning glare across my webcam and ended up leaving Bryce waiting. What kind of SKY! The mental picture: green rice stalks on the bottom, hazy white fog from right above their tips up to the clouds, the black silhouette of the Buddhist temple on the hill, and a big-round-sun-ball-of magma jutting out of the whiteness just to the right of the black facade. Wonder. I thought the sun could only do that at sunset.
Back in the street, after finding malaria medicine, I unfortunately ended up behind two western men and two very tiny Thai women. The short 20-something guy closest to me, held his hand stiffly on the small of her back, as his host wrapped her arms around herself. Her black, clumpy sweatshirt overpowered her small shoes. His posture seemed to acknowledge this wasn't going as well as he planned either. She looked toward the street and he, ahead. The woman in front engaged with her chum a little bit more. Her tall stilettos made her sway her frayed mini-mini skirt with better utility, despite minor dips into cracked concrete. The men laughed forcefully at a joke. A large, purple bruise showed underneath her cute leather ankle strap.
But with all the preparations and errands done, I hope to have more observations outside of this house because I am getting out of this house. Tomorrow starts our sabbath. THE INTERNS ARE GOING ON VACATION! Here. To here, my dear family and friends:
Angkor Wat, in Cambodia
(photo by javajive)
after months of being strapped to computers and stressing over professors who defy logistics, the interns are going to see the country. An epic sightseeing rove. Anna and I are taking a 13-hour train south to Bangkok, meeting the boys at the train station (they're down there at a Disaster Relief conference right now), then a 2 hour train to the border of Cambodia, a bus from the border to Siem Reap, then we'll spend a few days at Angkor. "They" say you can't see the whole temple in one day. After that, we'll take some kind of 6 hour transpo to Phenom Penh, then back to the border, one ferry, and pop up at the resort the students will be at on one of southern Thailand's beach islands. I eye my extremely tight pocket book and turn my mind to happier things. Like...new languages and other backpackers with "scam me" written all over their fanny packs. :shudders: those things! Two weeks. I'll try to post pictures if we run into internet cafes.After that our teachers will begin teaching. The students will reel from the amount of reading. I will try to satisfy professor needs and threaten the sky with my fist. While a thin kid from Ohio stands beside me {for a month!!!} trying to figure out what to make of the world.
Opening the first pages
finally, reading "Reading Lolita in Tehran." In Thailand of all places.
and I remember who gave it to me and how much
I love her that she would send me a book, a yard
of patterned fabric for my birthday, and how I just love her in general. Very much,
that sincere and utterly clinging friend of mine, Michelle.
who looks better in my clothes than i do.
who won't let me clean the dishes because it makes her feel like a bad houseperson.
who constantly wrangles me into getting ice cream even though she knows the "break" is more for her than for me.
who taught me how to be honest.
who taught me how to live from my being.
The author writes lyrically, a 'painterly writer' and michelle lives this way. she lives paint.
I read the book and I want to be in the northwest with her pregnantness, talking about it; and taking in her profound insights that make me feel like mine were wrested from a 5th grader.
Only a miracle could make that happen but while I wait for that, I jot down another addition to all the things I want to do and places I want to see in my life.
Number forty-three: see Tehran.
and I remember who gave it to me and how much
I love her that she would send me a book, a yard
of patterned fabric for my birthday, and how I just love her in general. Very much,
that sincere and utterly clinging friend of mine, Michelle.
who looks better in my clothes than i do.
who won't let me clean the dishes because it makes her feel like a bad houseperson.
who constantly wrangles me into getting ice cream even though she knows the "break" is more for her than for me.
who taught me how to be honest.
who taught me how to live from my being.
The author writes lyrically, a 'painterly writer' and michelle lives this way. she lives paint.
I read the book and I want to be in the northwest with her pregnantness, talking about it; and taking in her profound insights that make me feel like mine were wrested from a 5th grader.
Only a miracle could make that happen but while I wait for that, I jot down another addition to all the things I want to do and places I want to see in my life.
Number forty-three: see Tehran.
Poking Around Dok-My
There's a point to my being here, relegated to this teak round table, poring over anthropology articles and information about the education of stateless people. Jstor can be such a pain. I don't know why they don't hand out access to people who have graduated college--GUYS, really?-- but thanks to the Fishers I can do my work. My eyes are getting kind of blurry and it feels like I've got so much to cover yet.
The students need context for understanding their research community. It's a sticky situation when you add well-meaning westerners into a foreign environment and it still has residues of the stickiness no matter how hard you try, but Dwight's job is to minimize that as much as possible. There's unintended consequences to everything but, if we can, the goal of our class is to pop the floating theories about what it means to "help" people and break the swords of rushing action before anybody gets hurt. Think retroactive effects of the dreaded "Missions Trip". Our belief is that communities can be read like anything else. Our tools are only questions. And the best question is primary:
What would you like to have done to fix your problem?
The Ethnography of Dok-my* Community
This is our problem: Dok-My community was recommended to me by the Thailand Church of Christ (CCT) dedicated to helping the Lahu in the area. The Lahu are an expressive, egalitarian hill tribe group in Northern Thailand that have moved down to urbanity to find economic prosperity. An American woman cried at our orientation--The Lahu don't do very well in the city. But what the S&D wanted us to study was the cemetery issue. I know, cemetery? Big whoop, but its actually really interesting: We've got a cultural clash here, folks. The Thai are afraid of spirits and burn their dead. The Lahu Nyi are Christian and bury their dead. The Lahu don't have any rights, so they can't buy land for burial and the Thai discourage and capitalize on such reality by charging exorbitant prices to bury one person. The war of politics and cultural values.I met with a Lahu Dok-My volunteer geared up about the cemetery business, excited to get our students involved but he ended up saying they didn't have that problem very much anymore. Their biggest problem was that the children are selling flowers out on the road late into the evenings. The volunteer said the sometimes the children weren't allowed to come back home if they hadn't sold all their flowers. And the much harder issue? Dok-My community didn't see that as a problem. He wanted help showing the community that this was one. Not what I had intended. Show a community a problem they don't see as a problem? It feels sticky already.
my descriptive observations:
Location: Twenty minutes southeast of where we all live.
Setting: Rural-feeling community in the middle of an suburban setting. When you step into Dok-My, it even feels different. It feels like you are in a different world.
Demographics
- Population: 64+ families,
- Ethnicity: 54 Lahu Families, 10 Shan Families
- Language: Lahu
- Origins: Mae Hong Son District, Tak District, Chiang Rai District, and Chiang Mai District of Northern Thailand.
- Av. child per family: 3 children.
Shelter/Facilities: Temporary, bamboo houses on small stilts. Blue tarps used for excessive rain. Multi-room houses, with one large main room and smaller rooms partitioned off to the side. Attached kitchen, meals cooked over fire (?). Mosquito nets, (big) TVs, dressers, and beds present in some homes. Each family has their own concrete outhouse. Fuel for cooking are sticks and is collected around the community.
Utilities: Electricity available in the community and the Thai owner has a water pump for them to use; he charges them 15 baht per_____. The community members pay for both electricity and water along with their property rent. Monthly rent can range from 600 baht to 1800 baht, depending on the size of the family.Livestock/Agriculture: Visible animals are chickens and only three people have a small partition of land for rice crops because they can afford to rent it from the landowner.
Access to Markets: less than 1 kilometer. Dependent on which resources their looking for.
Transportation: Motorbikes, bicycles, and a few community members own trucks.
Vocation:Most of the community participates in temporary day labor (e.g. construction, flower business, electricians, gardeners in the botanical sense).
Visible Members during the day: mostly women of various ages and small children.
Role of women: Child rearing and participating in temporary labor with their husbands.
Difficulties:
- Their roads are very muddy during the rainy season, making it difficult to travel
- The water provided isn't very good. The water from the tank can't be consumed; drinking water must be additionally purchased because the tank has no filter and the water that is available to them is rusty and smells badly.
- They can't develop their land because they do not own it. They do not own it because they are not legally allowed to.
Flower Business:
- The man interviewed said his sells fluctuate but he can usually sell 60-70 flowers/day. He sells flowers with a partner, leaving the house at about 4 or 5 pm and returning at 10pm. If it's a good night, they return early at 9pm. Sometimes he sells peanuts but he can't sell many things. He doesn't know Thai so its difficult to market many products so he sticks to one.
Most children stop at primary and secondary school level. Only a few pass on to the high school level, and less that 10% go to university.
Expressed Need: They want to have a better village to live in. These Lahu want their own land to live on. The local government burns garbage near their community and there's nothing they can do about the fumes. The Thai lifestyle also differs from theirs greatly because Thais are Buddhist and they are Christian. They want a community that's separated from Buddhist reach.
Can the students show that a road to their dream has education on it? Hopefully Dwight knows how.
________
*name of community has been changed for confidentiality purposes. Dok-My means "flower" in Thai.
"Fail"
I am awful at blogging.
It's been a fortnight, and I haven't written on here nearly as much as I should.
isn't this supposed to a documentation of my time here,
isn't this supposed to be an exposition of what I think about my experiences,
isn't this supposed to be a place for me to post photos of four-legged creatures I find in situations of adorableness? I can do that now, you know. Thais have pets.
What things are and what they should be are often not the same things. It's my perfectionism that gets in the way, don't you see? If something isn't good or deeply thought out, it is physically impossible for me to put it up for public viewing. Now my profs can know why my papers were often late. Good things take time, people, they take time. I do accept my "FAIL" and am trying to make amends. Look, I won't even reread this blog twice.
First reparation:
(<------) We found these in an abandoned truck when we were trying to find hiking in a local national park. There; feel better? I do.
Yes, the students are gone, but the first noticeable change to life in Northern Thailand is the billowing of thunder clouds that loom on the edges of the valley hills. The wind picks up in the afternoon and those clouds, when they feel like it, drop the most amazing display of water known to internkind. The wind, that moisture, cools down the air like composure and changes the weather from sweaty-back-Tshirt weather to Spring in Chicago. The heat difference between August and September is like none other. Come on in, boys, the water is fine.
I feel like my time is gearing up here even though I have only a month and a half left in the Mekong region. Dwight is on his way, I'm the intern, and everything needs to run like pie when he gets here; chop of the chop!I've been practicing making lists. They look nice. I've done my field visit for the Minority community the students will research for, and from here on out, I've got a quiet room staked out so I can sort through articles about Development in the Mekong and cultural information for the people group the students will be working with. The sad thing about the textbooks is that they cover "Third World" poverty (we don't use that term anymore. It's original purpose as a term meant something great but overtime its simply condescending) and Thailand isn't. It's "Second world" (for lack of a better word! Ahh @_@) and defies every reason for development that's found around the rest of the world. Imperialism created the divisions we know today, and have for much of our history as people, but Thailand was never colonized, imperial-ized, occupied. Never. This sly country wiggled out of just about every attempt of domination the world could throw at it.
It shows on the socio-political level and the one-on-one level. Thailand is the only place I know in the Global South where they are not even the slightest entertained or impressed that you are Western. Thais could care less. They have a beautiful amount of confidence because though they aren't as technologically far along as some Western nations, they have never had any reason to think less of themselves; they know who they are and have done fine enough for themselves. They find their own way and ask for advice only when they want to.
Its difficult to teach a Development Class when the place you live doesn't feel deficient in anyway. Why do it? Because, just like back home in the states, we have this nagging little belief that everyone should have the opportunity to participate in such prosperity, no matter who they are or where they come from. There are people people who don't have access to resources and they can't have access because they're not legally allowed to. Uh-oh. We are students, not politicians.
But that's what this whole thing is about. Allowing the students to ask "should we, could we, would we?" to exclusion and poverty we see. Sometimes the answer is "no" and we're okay with that.
Hopefully there'll be a rough course reader compiled by the end of the week. List it.
On the recreational side of recreation, we go into Chiang Mai town and spend some little monies (this is how we pay for things in Thailand: zee "baht"). 35 baht= $1.00. That's the king. Thais love him very very much.
We take bike rides around Doi Saket and watch as much Colbert as physically possible. I watch most times. Our favorite thing in the world is the projector, hands down. Going into Chiang Mai city is a whole day thing, plan for it early, since taking a Songthaew into town can take up to an hour for the twenty minute drive and even more to get out. Thae Pae gate is gearing up for something, I'm not sure, but they've begun to decorate the square. Loi Kratong is coming at the end of the month and to say we're excited is the understatement of the year. Kenny (or "Dad") is obsessed with sustainable farming and wants someone to pee on his newly laid straw (nitrogen enriching! he says); Ryan has been so kind enough to volunteer.
"Ryan, do you have to take a piss?"
"Uh, no. Not right now."
Jordan will do it for the meantime. We have a battle with the skinny, free-range chickens and Kenny's garden. We will beat you scavenging chickens! Members in our little polis receive a new gardening tidbit daily. DID YOU KNOW: that you can put organic kitchen scraps in a lidded bucket, let it ferment for two weeks, put in it in your soil, and in two weeks you'll have fertile soil? Why, it sure beats the other methods of composting. My life is surely better, I don't know about yours.
The Lahu students are away on break and the rice has budded, dotting the vibrancy outside with brown. The land shall see harvest sometime. At the end of next week, the interns might find themselves on the way to Cambodia before we reunite with the students in Southern Thailand. Phenom Penh, the wonder, is a' calling out to us.
Delicious Thai dinner is hanging in the air; and tomorrow, I will conquer development articles.
An ethnoblog of the research community to come...
Until then here's a video that just makes me SO glad.
It's been a fortnight, and I haven't written on here nearly as much as I should.
isn't this supposed to a documentation of my time here,
isn't this supposed to be an exposition of what I think about my experiences,
isn't this supposed to be a place for me to post photos of four-legged creatures I find in situations of adorableness? I can do that now, you know. Thais have pets.
What things are and what they should be are often not the same things. It's my perfectionism that gets in the way, don't you see? If something isn't good or deeply thought out, it is physically impossible for me to put it up for public viewing. Now my profs can know why my papers were often late. Good things take time, people, they take time. I do accept my "FAIL" and am trying to make amends. Look, I won't even reread this blog twice.
First reparation:
(<------) We found these in an abandoned truck when we were trying to find hiking in a local national park. There; feel better? I do. Yes, the students are gone, but the first noticeable change to life in Northern Thailand is the billowing of thunder clouds that loom on the edges of the valley hills. The wind picks up in the afternoon and those clouds, when they feel like it, drop the most amazing display of water known to internkind. The wind, that moisture, cools down the air like composure and changes the weather from sweaty-back-Tshirt weather to Spring in Chicago. The heat difference between August and September is like none other. Come on in, boys, the water is fine.
I feel like my time is gearing up here even though I have only a month and a half left in the Mekong region. Dwight is on his way, I'm the intern, and everything needs to run like pie when he gets here; chop of the chop!I've been practicing making lists. They look nice. I've done my field visit for the Minority community the students will research for, and from here on out, I've got a quiet room staked out so I can sort through articles about Development in the Mekong and cultural information for the people group the students will be working with. The sad thing about the textbooks is that they cover "Third World" poverty (we don't use that term anymore. It's original purpose as a term meant something great but overtime its simply condescending) and Thailand isn't. It's "Second world" (for lack of a better word! Ahh @_@) and defies every reason for development that's found around the rest of the world. Imperialism created the divisions we know today, and have for much of our history as people, but Thailand was never colonized, imperial-ized, occupied. Never. This sly country wiggled out of just about every attempt of domination the world could throw at it.
It shows on the socio-political level and the one-on-one level. Thailand is the only place I know in the Global South where they are not even the slightest entertained or impressed that you are Western. Thais could care less. They have a beautiful amount of confidence because though they aren't as technologically far along as some Western nations, they have never had any reason to think less of themselves; they know who they are and have done fine enough for themselves. They find their own way and ask for advice only when they want to.
Its difficult to teach a Development Class when the place you live doesn't feel deficient in anyway. Why do it? Because, just like back home in the states, we have this nagging little belief that everyone should have the opportunity to participate in such prosperity, no matter who they are or where they come from. There are people people who don't have access to resources and they can't have access because they're not legally allowed to. Uh-oh. We are students, not politicians.
But that's what this whole thing is about. Allowing the students to ask "should we, could we, would we?" to exclusion and poverty we see. Sometimes the answer is "no" and we're okay with that.
Hopefully there'll be a rough course reader compiled by the end of the week. List it.
On the recreational side of recreation, we go into Chiang Mai town and spend some little monies (this is how we pay for things in Thailand: zee "baht"). 35 baht= $1.00. That's the king. Thais love him very very much.
We take bike rides around Doi Saket and watch as much Colbert as physically possible. I watch most times. Our favorite thing in the world is the projector, hands down. Going into Chiang Mai city is a whole day thing, plan for it early, since taking a Songthaew into town can take up to an hour for the twenty minute drive and even more to get out. Thae Pae gate is gearing up for something, I'm not sure, but they've begun to decorate the square. Loi Kratong is coming at the end of the month and to say we're excited is the understatement of the year. Kenny (or "Dad") is obsessed with sustainable farming and wants someone to pee on his newly laid straw (nitrogen enriching! he says); Ryan has been so kind enough to volunteer."Ryan, do you have to take a piss?"
"Uh, no. Not right now."
Jordan will do it for the meantime. We have a battle with the skinny, free-range chickens and Kenny's garden. We will beat you scavenging chickens! Members in our little polis receive a new gardening tidbit daily. DID YOU KNOW: that you can put organic kitchen scraps in a lidded bucket, let it ferment for two weeks, put in it in your soil, and in two weeks you'll have fertile soil? Why, it sure beats the other methods of composting. My life is surely better, I don't know about yours.
The Lahu students are away on break and the rice has budded, dotting the vibrancy outside with brown. The land shall see harvest sometime. At the end of next week, the interns might find themselves on the way to Cambodia before we reunite with the students in Southern Thailand. Phenom Penh, the wonder, is a' calling out to us.
Delicious Thai dinner is hanging in the air; and tomorrow, I will conquer development articles.
An ethnoblog of the research community to come...
Until then here's a video that just makes me SO glad.
Mayday
My computer is down.
3 hour conversation to Dell, 6 reroutes, one faulty microphone system, 4 frustrated operators, 2 language barriers, one persistent Thai support = new hardrive
New hard drive delivered today special order from Singapore in the hands of the incredibly hospitable Thai technical support.
However, My new hard drive has no software. Mine is back in the US. I can't run my computer without something to run my programs on. I need that software.
1 hour conversation to Dell, 4 reroutes, one perfect Miller headset, one confused Indian woman = 5 delivered software CDs.
Estimated Arrival: next Thursday
I am one terribly tired and stuck intern. I need Word and Internet access to compile a course reader, update Dwight, and keep in touch with our potential guest speakers.
Hopefully it shows up next week, but with Dell, you just never know. I've called them too many times for this situation to be straightforward.
You know technology is taking over your life when you get crackhead jittery at the thought of not having your laptop for 7 days. DELL, why must you torment me?
3 hour conversation to Dell, 6 reroutes, one faulty microphone system, 4 frustrated operators, 2 language barriers, one persistent Thai support = new hardrive
New hard drive delivered today special order from Singapore in the hands of the incredibly hospitable Thai technical support.
However, My new hard drive has no software. Mine is back in the US. I can't run my computer without something to run my programs on. I need that software.
1 hour conversation to Dell, 4 reroutes, one perfect Miller headset, one confused Indian woman = 5 delivered software CDs.
Estimated Arrival: next Thursday
I am one terribly tired and stuck intern. I need Word and Internet access to compile a course reader, update Dwight, and keep in touch with our potential guest speakers.
Hopefully it shows up next week, but with Dell, you just never know. I've called them too many times for this situation to be straightforward.
You know technology is taking over your life when you get crackhead jittery at the thought of not having your laptop for 7 days. DELL, why must you torment me?
