they live in a village. the word for
house + village is the same word. that's why all the neighbors' pigs, cows + chickens can run wild in my friend's yard +
he doesn't mind + his neighbor doesn't worry. because my house is your house.
that's why they
don't lock their doors. their doors don't even have locks. because they don't really own anything valuable. my friend doesn't even have a refrigerator (but he does have a flourescent light). if you take something, you'll bring it back. + all the neighbors are always coming by with some vegetables from their garden, or some fish they caught.
the roosters start crowing at each other at
4am, and the 14 year old neighbor girl is up already, gathering bamboo shoots + washing them in the stream. some of them are
ngam, beautiful, but they wouldn't shame their family by wearing anything scandalous. they bathe outside, but always in a full-length sarong, a huge towel/washcloth thingy. + the young men of the village wouldn't think of doing anything, unless they wanted to marry her. besides,
her father is probably your uncle. everybody is your uncle + they're always watching you + not afraid to tell you that if u like it, you should sell a water buffalo + put a ring on it
so i'm visiting my buddy in his mountain village + my 1st visit is to the
village chief's house. feels like i'm going to the principal's office. he checks my passport, scowls, asks questions. his kids are watching Thai TV. then suddenly his wife brings out baskets of sticky rice, smashed pepper sauce, fire-roasted green onions,
fish stew with heads + all.
can we go camping overnight by the fishing creek, my friend politely asks.
i don't think you should, he replies.
i don't want the falang, the foreigner,
to get hurt by the wild animals. it's hard to resent Big Brother when he feeds you fish head stew + worries about wild animals eating you.
the village isn't all fun + games though. the
creek's been running lower + lower every year, and by April it'll die down to a trickle (takes 10 minutes to fill up a water bottle).that 's not nearly enough drinking water for the 300 villagers. 2 years ago,
their rice fields were given away to big foreign companies who planted rubber trees. now they have to trek several kilometers with their big families of 4-5 kids,
hauling food + water + tools in wicker baskets slung over their backs
they still grow
coffee here, a cash crop introduced by the French, even though they can't use it for their own food. they use that
money for tuition for their children to learn English, which will help them get better
jobs. better access to foreign investment, tourist dollars. the very development that is changing their way of life. the waterfalls they've always bathed in, now charge entrance fees. their fields, their food, their culture, their village itself, is being transformed just by
me being here. the West has already moved in next-door. the city + the TV beckons the next generation. But I hope the village survives.
