Showing posts with label bathing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bathing. Show all posts

Monday, November 11, 2019

Suri Tribe - Omo Valley, Ethiopia October 2019 - Photo Gallery Available






Another day, another photo gallery is now available for viewing.


A gallery of 31 selected photographs from my recently completed journey to the Omo Valley in Ethiopia is now available for viewing on my personal photography website.

Gallery Link:
 
https://www.hale-worldphotography.com/Suri-Tribe-of-Omo-Valley-Ethiopia-Oct-2019

Mobile App Link:

https://www.hale-worldphotography.com/Suri-Tribe-of-Omo-Valley-Ethiopia-Oct-2019?mobile=true

After my journey to the Gerewol Festival in Chad and having to pass through Addis Ababa, Ethiopia in order to return home in Thailand, I took a detour to explore, photograph, and experience the truly amazing tribes of the Omo Valley near the borders of Kenya and the South Sudan.

The first tribe on my journey through the Omo Valley were the "Suri".



The Suri, also known as the Surma, are one of the less visited tribes of the Omo Valley due to their remoteness and inaccessibility.  They are known for their ornate decoration of their bodies.  The Suri paint their bodies with mud or paints.  Bodies are also decorated through scarification - causing keloid scars by cutting with razor blades.  In addition the Suri people extensively use local plants and flowers to adorn their bodies.

Like the Mursi tribe, Suri women pierce their lips and insert clay plates.

Soon I will write a blog sharing my experiences as well as observations that I had during my two days with the Suri people.



Monday, March 1, 2010

Life Along the Water - It Is All About Water




It is already March here in Thailand. Today is a holiday - the start of Buddhist Lent. It is also the start of the four day Mango Fair in nearby Non Wai in Amphoe Nong Wau Sor. We will go to the fair later this afternoon.

February went by so quickly. It doesn't seem all that long ago that we were returning home from our trip to Luang Namtha. Perhaps because the trip was so enjoyable that our memories and thoughts over the past month numbed our consciousness to the passage of time.

Throughout our trip, I was impressed with the importance that water played in the day to day life of the minority people of the Luang Namtha region. For many of us, water is taken for granted. It is readily available and at our disposal by merely turning a faucet open in our kitchen, in any number of our bathroom sinks, flush one of our toilets, our bath tub or tubs, our shower or showers, and the valves outside our home for watering the lawn and plants in our yards. Many of our refrigerators automatically create ice from the water that is hooked up to the appliance. We have no reservations about pouring a glass and drinking straight from the tap. The water is always there. The water is always potable.

That is the way that it is in our world. We may have concern regarding the availability of oil and its associated products. We are definitely concerned about the price of oil and its associated products. Seldom and perhaps never, are we concerned about the availability or cost of water. But this is not the way it is in most of the world.


We can live without oil albeit not as comfortably as we do now but all people, all creatures as well as plants, must have water. Unfortunately, for many people in the world access to water is not often reliable, convenient or even potable. To address some of the water issues, many people have settled alongside sources of water.


Every village and settlement that we came upon in the Luang Namtha region was along the banks of a river, stream, or spring. These sources of water were heavily utilized. In the late afternoon, we could see the villagers bathing in the flowing water. Typically in the morning, clothes were washed in the water although some people multi-tasked by washing clothes as part of their bathing ritual. No matter the time of the day for bathing, buckets of water were gathered and carried back home. At the Boat Landing Guest House and Restaurant, small pumps take water directly out of the adjacent Nam Tha River and lift the water to elevated storage tanks to be used as required. In some of the settlements the source of household water was nothing more than a slow flowing drainage ditch between the road and the house. The same water used for washing clothes, and bathing is often is also used as a food source and for drinking water. The same water is often used by children as a playground. The same water is also used by the villager's livestock. What water is readily available is well utilized.


There was photographic opportunity that most likely will forever be fixed in my mind. Outside of Xieng Kok on the road back to Muang Sing, we came upon a mother standing in a shallow ditch in front of her home no more than 12 feet from the edge of the main road. She stood ankle deep in the water, having completed her bathing, wringing the water out of one side of her sarong that due to some semblance of modesty she was still wearing. Joining her in the ditch were three little boys and a little girl - all under three years old. Watching over the scene were three other little children. I often write about the lack of privacy here in Isaan but this scene often repeated during our Lao trip exceeds what is the situation in Isaan.
Once in Peru, my wife at the time remarked about the personal hygiene of the local people in Cusco, Peru. Shortly after she made that remark, I saw out of the train window, a small girl, perhaps 6 years old, struggling to carry two filled yellow Prestone Anti-Freeze containers of water from the small community water tap in the middle of a flat compacted bare earth area at the edge of the village. I pointed the scene out to my wife and remarked that the child was bringing water back to her home for cooking as well as bathing. I asked my wife how many baths would she take and further pointed out the water was cold. Again, for much of the world bathing is not as convenient nor as private as is our experience. Most people do not have the luxury of closing a door, turning a faucet or two, and enjoying an unlimited amount of hot water upon demand. Our Lao experience reminded us of our fortune - a fortune that we should not take for granted.



So today as I wind up reviewing and editing the photographs from our Luang Namtha journey, so many of them having water in them, I reminisce about the experience mostly of life along the river.

Life along the river, life along the stream, and sometimes life next to the ditch - I can almost hear once again the sounds of clothes being slapped against rocks, the soft ruffling of clothes being hand washed, the occasional plop of a fish as it reentered the water after catapulting upwards to snare a meal, the sharp staccato of rocks hitting upon each other as village women wade upstream overturning them in their search for food to bring back for the family meal, the sound of wet clothes being beat with a wooden club to clean them, the excitement as well as exuberance of young boys and girls exploring the banks together - each discovery evoking a conference as well an animated discussion with one child naturally evolving to be the group's leader, the sounds of community gossip in a six tonal language by village women as they congregate in mid-thigh high water to bathe, the soft crescendo of mono filament fishing nets being flung over the waters as the sun sets and a full moon rises ... Yes it is all about the water. - Life along the river in Laos.

We will hopefully never take our water for granted again.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Laos Day #5 - A Day In Luang Namtha


After our full and exhausting day to Xieng Kok on Thursday, Duang and I decided to relax and "catch up" on Friday 29 January. Duang caught up on her sleep and I caught up on my journal.

While Duang slept, I had my breakfast and wrote in my journal. It is very easy to fall behind in maintaining a journal especially when there are so many interesting sights, and people to write about. Kees joined me prior to his departure to go on his photo assignment of the Lanten wedding. It had been a surprise as well as a pleasure to see him again in such wonderful surroundings.

Later in the morning, Duang and I attended the local festival. At 11:00 A.M. Jorgon and Helga drove us out to the Vat (Wat in Thailand) in their camper. We were somewhat disappointed. Just as we were surprised at the small size of the Luang Namtha Night Market, we were surprised at how small the festival was. We climbed the staiway from the dirt road up to That Phum Phuk (That Phoum Phoul) and were rewarded with some nice views of the Luang Namtha Valley.


During the Second Indochina War, the stupa of the Vat was toppled by a bomb blast which occurred during fighting between Communist troops and Royal Lao troops. The ruins of the toppled stupa now provide an interesting climbing experience for local children as well as many of the young Monks, who are often not much older than the village children. A replacement stupa was built alongside the ruins in 2003.



















The festival consisted mainly of several small booths selling food, snacks, soft drinks, and beer. In the end of the festival furthest from the stupa was an area set up as a beer garden complete with a stage and powerful sound system. Unfortunately, we had arrived after the performance of local minority dances. There were several booths where anyone, children, Monks, as well as adults could throw three metal darts at air filled balloons placed within vertical wooden trays. If a person burst three balloons they won a small container of soy milk or some other type of soft drink. The booths were doing a very good business. Gambling is legal in Laos unlike in Thailand where it is banned. From this trip to Laos I can report that they start them young. Many times we saw 7 and 8 year olds trying their luck or rather testing their skill. Another common sight at the festival was a small child enjoying the simple pleasure of a helium balloon tethered to their hand.


After walking along the two aisles of booths three times, Duang and I sat down at one of the food booths. I ate some squid flavored potato chip type snacks while Duang had a plate of chicken feet to munch on. We shared what eventually became three bottles Beer Lao - the excellent Lao beer brewed in Vientiane. We sat listening to the mahlam lao and mahlam sing music blaring from the beer garden while we watched the world, or at least this small part of the world go by. After awhile 5 middle aged men strolled by and nodded "Hello". By their demeanor, haircuts, slacks, and cotton solid colored pastel shirts, I knew that they were government officials.

After a couple of hours we decided to return to the hotel. We passed two tables with plastic chairs under a canopy where the five men along with three officers of the Lao People's Army were enjoying themselves. Just past their location, as we approached the exit, Duang left me to go to the bathroom. As I stood waiting for her to return, one of the men came with a plastic chair and motioned for me to sit. Since it was already getting quite warm and my camera backpack was heavy, I gladly accepted his invitation. He left but quickly returned with a glass of Lao Lao, the very potent rice whiskey popular in Laos as well as Isaan. Having lived in Vietnam for awhile I was familiar with party and Party protocol - party etiquette and Communist Party etiquette. I accepted the offer and took my glass over to the table where the dignitaries were seated. I thanked them in Thai and toasted them in Lao to their shock and amazement. Fortunately a Lao toast is one of the few Lao terms that I know. By now Duang had joined us and she was treated to their hospitality - a glass with some Lao Lao. She spoke a little to the men explaining that I was from America and that I was visiting for one week. We thanked them and headed towards the gate. I then remembered about certain laws in Laos. Foreigners are not allowed to "fraternize", "be with" (as in the Biblical sense), or be intimate with Lao women. I suppose that such laws may also apply to relations with Lao men, but I never cared or researched that aspect. If a foreigner wants to marry a Lao woman, they have to apply and request permission from the Lao government. Duang is often mistaken for being Lao in our travels and I wanted to ensure that there were no misconceptions regarding our status or perhaps it was the effect of our beer and Lao Lao, so I returned to the dignitaries and explained in Thai and pantomime that they did not have to worry - Duang was Thai not Lao, we were married, and they did not have to take me to jail. We all had a big laugh and said good bye one last time.

We returned to our hotel and found that Mr Thone had brought his 11 month old daughter to the reception area. We spent some time playing with her and photographing her before returning to our cottage. After two hours of cleaning camera gear and writing in my journal I went for a walk.


Outside of the hotel in the gravel parking lot, local boys were having a cock fight. Cock fighting has deep and long traditions in Southeast Asia. It is not illegal here. This was the second cock fight that I had witnessed. I had watched my first fight in Tahsang Village. Unlike what I had read about cock fights the first fight as well as this one was not a bloody or fatal affair. In the first fight, the spurs on the roosters leg were taped to prevent them from being used as weapons. In Laos there were not any spurs on the rooster's legs. True to form, I found this fight to be as boring as the first one. In Laos the fight consisted of two twenty minute rounds. I had arrived towards the end of the second round. I don't know if it was actually at the end of twenty minutes or not, but it was obvious to me which rooster had won - the other one pretty much given up although both animals were tired from their jumping around and pecking. The boys mercifully declared the winner, grabbed each rooster, split into two groups and went their separate ways on bicycles. I continued on my walk.

I walked to the bridge, an Acrow type structure, spanning the Namtha River. I never made it all the way across the bridge. Down below my perch at the start of the bridge, a fisherman was cleaning off his throwing net on his way back home in the late afternoon. Across the river, women were busy washing laundry, and bathing in the shallow water below their village. Truckloads of farmers and harvested broom plant crossed the bridge on their way back to their villages. As the heavier vehicles crossed the bridge, the bridge bounced up and down from the moving loads. One of the smaller farm trucks, the 10 HP type, did not have enough power to cross the bridge so men were assisting it by pushing it up the slight rise towards the middle of the bridge. Bicyclists were a major part of the bridge traffic that afternoon. All this made for interesting photography and observation of daily village life in a remote rural area of Laos.




For a relaxing and a "catch up" day, Friday turned out to be another satisfying day. It had been another day of surprises and an opportunity to observe as well as learn about daily life in Laos - a beautiful land inhabited by extraordinary people.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Isaan Rice Harvest - 14 and 15 November 2009

Undaunted by the previous, Friday 13th, day's adventures and motivated by the opportunity to spend some more time with 9 month old Peelawat, we returned to Tahsang Village on Saturday and Sunday to contribute to the harvesting of the family's rice crop.
On Saturday and Sunday the crop that was planted in July just outside of Tahsang Village was being cut. This field does not have red ants so I was looking forward to spending a great deal of time documenting and observing the activities there.

Duang splits her time between caring for Peelawat and cutting rice. Duang's daughter and Duang's mother have been sick so extra help is required to look after the nine month old baby. Saturday ended up being a "baby care" day. Duang's daughter was feeling well enough so she spent the day cutting rice. However, Duang's mother was still not feeling well. She had been to the hospital two days earlier with gastro-intestinal distress. On Saturday she was still rather weak. No problem - her youngest son came over to take care of her.

"Number 4", as he is referred to as since he is the youngest of four children arrived in Tahasang Village with an IV bottle and assorted items related to infusion. He is not a doctor. He is not a EMT. He is not a nurse. He is an entertainer. Apparently anyone with the money can buy IV materials for home personal use or on willing subjects. I was astounded. The IV bottle was made out of glass and contained a yellow liquid. I tried to read the ingredients but the writing was all in Thai. The bottle as well as contents looked identical to what I had seen being used on patients in the hospital.

A saht, a woven reed mat, was placed on the tile floor of the family market for Duang's mother to lay on. Polyethylene packaging twine was used to suspend the IV bottle from a wire that ran from a column to the exterior wall of the room. Duang's brother declined to use my belt as a tourniquet on his mother's arm to help bring up a vein (I had seen a belt used in many films where people were shooting up - wrapping around the upper arm and using their teeth to maintain tension around the arm). Instead he used several rubber bands to create an elastic band to tie around her arm. I was impressed with his knowledge and skill up to this point. He had flooded the IV tubing, installed a vent in the IV bottle, evacuated the air out of the tubing and run some liquid out of the needle. Now it was time to insert the needle into a vein. Finding the vein and inserting the needle proved to be more difficult. Eventually the process was successfully completed. Momma layed quietly on the saht for the afternoon.



Once Momma was settled in with her IV, our attention focused upon Peelawat. He had been sleeping in his hammock on the opposite side of the room and woke up as the set up of Momma's IV was completed. After he woke up completely and got accustomed to everyone, Duang decided that it was time for his bath. Since it was a hot and sunny day, Duang took a small plastic tub outside to the backyard to bathe Peelawat. She filled the tub with water from a hose and used the hose to rinse him off. Peelawat enjoyed his bath even though the water was not heated.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent working on the computer to edit photographs and playing with Peelawat.




On Sunday we spent most of our time out in the rice fields. I shot photographs in the morning and then the late afternoon to take advantage of the better light.

It was hot and humid all day long. I had left Duang back in the village to take care of Peelawat. After photographing the family at work in the fields, I took a walk towards the sun. I walked towards the sun for two reasons - I wanted the setting sun at my back to photograph the workers and there several groups of other workers in that direction. Walking over towards the other workers was rather difficult. The recessed paddies were filled with dry stalks of rice either vertical or laying almost flat. Out of respect for the farmers I did not want to trample over the unharvested rice. That left me the option of walking along the tops of the berms around the perimeters of the paddy. The raised area along the paddies are now overgrown with 4 months of unabated weeds. To make matters even more difficult, the berms are periodically cut by narrow trenches - perfect ankle twisters and ankle busters. The overgrown vegetation pretty much camouflages them. I had also watched a program the previous night about people getting bitten by cobras. I pretty much convinced myself that no snake would hang around the dry rice paddies so I cautiously plodded along.

I spent about 2 hours on this trek, stopping to photograph interesting scenes and stopping to rest as well as await the sun to get lower on the horizon. It was extremely hot and I sweated a great deal. I sweated so profusely that my fingertips became wrinkled as if I had stayed in a bath too long. Midway into my solo journey, I thought that I heard Duang's voice. I was too far to see her even if the rice had not hidden her. After deciding to return to the family, I had some good fortune - I found a piece of aged bamboo - a perfect walking stick. With the use of my walking stick, my walk back was much easier and less intimidating. When I got back to the starting point, Duang was there cutting rice. She had correctly surmised that I was going to be thirsty and had a can of Pepsi along with a glass of ice awaiting me. I have to admit that it was the best Pepsi that I have had in my life. The best Coke is a fountain drink at O Sanctuario outside the entrance to Machu Picchu but the best Pepsi is in a can out in an Isaan parched rice paddy.