Yet Another Lao Loum Funeral

Monk Pours Coconut Water On the Corpse

In early January of this year, we attended the funeral for another family member, one of Duang's uncles from Tahsang Village.

Poopaw Veeboonkul was 60 years old.  He died three days after slipping in the shower and hitting his head.  He was unable to speak his entire life which made communications difficult for him. He did not let his nephew know about the accident until his internal bleeding due to injuries was too great and too late for the hospital to save him.  A life long bachelor he tended to and raised water buffalo.

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Gambling, other than the National Lottery, is illegal in Thailand.  But just as so many things are not always what they seem to be or even what they are supposed to be, gambling does exist and sometimes you do not have to look very hard to find it.  Typically in the small villages that dot the countryside in Isaan, you will find gambling going on where there is a funeral.  I thought that this might be due to a belief that "It is an ill wind that blows no good" in other words ... someone's misfortune in dying is counteracted by someone else's good fortune in a game of chance.  You know - the eastern philosophy of the ying and yang or achieving some balance in the Universe.  Well the reasoning for gambling at a funeral is not so altruistic.  According to my Lao Loum wife who has been to a great deal more of these funerals than me and speaks both Thai and Lao much better than me, the reason for gambling is to ensure that more people come to the funeral ritual.

Apparently the more people that participate or at least attend the funeral, the greater merit that is earned for the deceased person's spirit.  Wether people participate in the ritual or just gamble, they make an offering to the family of money or rice.  The offerings are than made to the Monks in the name of the donor as well as the deceased person.  In an Isaan take on the theme of the film  "Field of Dreams", rather than "Build it and they will come" the belief is "Have gambling, and even more of them will come". In deference to the Lao Loum mores, the police tolerate this gambling to a point.  Once the body starts to be cremated, it is sort of "all bets are off" and the police will stop any gambling and arrest all participants.

For this funeral, the gambling was across the village street at relatives' homes.  Yes, there was so many people wanting to gamble that there were actually two games of chance going on.  The people were playing a dice game called "Hai Low".  The game uses a vinyl cloth that resembles the betting table for a roulette wheel in a casino.  The people place their cash bets on the numbers, combinations, and permutations indicated on the cloth - just like playing roulette.  Three dice are placed on a plate, covered with the cover of a fartip (woven container for storing cooked sticky rice), shook or stirred, and the cover removed to reveal the dice.

While I was off taking photographs, Duang played for a while.  She ended up winning 1,000 Baht, about $30 USD and was smart as well as disciplined enough to quit.  Her aunt who usually runs a game at funerals, ended up losing 50,000 Baht, approximately $1,666 USD for the day.  At the end of the day I went looking for her.  When I found her I told her that I had heard that she was giving away money and I was wondering where my money was. We all enjoyed a good laugh - winning or losing everyone always seems to be able to laugh.

Procession Walking Through the Streets of Tahsang Village

Around 1:00 P.M., which is typical time, a procession lead by Monks traveled from the man's home to the Wat located inside of Tahsang Village. The procession circled the crematorium three times before the coffin was removed from the refrigerated coffin and placed on steel sawhorses in front of the door to the furnace.

Puffed Rice Is Spread On the Ground to Feed the Spirits

It was a very quiet day in the village up until midway through the funeral ritual.  The funeral was on a school day but it ended up being a half-day of classes.  One of the teachers attended the funeral along with her classes.  Her classes are made up of all my little friends from the village.  They immediately saw that I was taking photographs and wanted to get in on the action.  Of course I was all too willing to accommodate them much to the amusement of the other adults.  These are all children from poor families and I like to share with them some of the outside world as well as introducing them to some of the today's technology.  They get such enjoyment out of seeing themselves in a digital photograph that I can not say no to them or dissuade them.

Some of My Tahsang Village Friends

Wat Crematorium In Tahsang Village

It may seem strange to many readers that elementary classes would attend a funeral but here in Isaan children are not shielded from death.  They are taught from a very early age, as in in one year old, to show respect to older people.  Around the village, I am referred to as "Tahallen" (Grandfather Allen).  By having the class attend the funeral the children show their respect for one of their neighbors and also it reinforces the realization that life is temporary.

The Monk Whom I Nicknamed "Rocketman"  Supervising the Ritual

The ritual was supervised by the head Monk of the Wat inside of the village.  I have nicknamed him "Rocketman".  The first time that I saw him back in 2008, he was supervising the construction of homemade rockets at the Wat.

 http://www.hale-worldphotography.blogspot.com/2009/01/31-august-2008-prapheni-bun-bang-fai.html

He definitely knew a thing or two about building the gunpowder packed PVC pipe rockets and more importantly you could easily see that he really enjoyed it. Later in the day he was at the competition in another village far from Tahsang where the rockets were being fired off into the sky.

A Relative Pours Coconut Water Over the Corpse

Cleansing and Refreshing the Spirit

After people had poured coconut water and ordinary water on the remains of the man, the strings that had bound his hands and legs together were cut using a cane knife.

Cutting the Ties That Bind

A unique aspect of this funeral ritual involved coconuts.  All the funerals that I have attended here in Isaan utilized green coconuts.  The green coconuts do not have a husk and are cut at their top to allow their watery contents to be poured out on the corpse.  However at this funeral, the coconut shells of mature coconuts were also used.  These are the hard half shells of the coconuts that are typically sold in supermarkets in Europe, Canada, and the USA.  One of the man's relatives used a coconut half shell to touch various parts of the corpse.  When he was completed, the corpse was rolled over and the half shell as well as two others were placed beneath the buttocks and legs of the body.

Pouring Hydrocarbon On Charcoal Bed

The saht and comfortor that were in the disposable coffin were removed and placed in a pile off to the side of the crematorium.  The heavy cane knife that was used to cut the bindings on the hand and feet was used to cut drain holes in the disposable coffin.  While this was going on, a man poured hydrocarbon, I suspect naphtha on the charcoal bed of a heavy rolling metal carriage that had been pulled out of the crematorium furnace.  The disposable coffin was then filled with the good luck pieces that mourners had placed on top of the coffin.  The lid was placed on top of the coffin and it was placed on the rolling carriage.  The carriage was then pushed into the furnace.  The heavy door to the furnace was closed and a Monk ignited the charcoal bed using some burning good luck totems.

As the first wisps of smoke exited the chimney of the crematorium, three large fireworks were fired in succession into the air to scare away any bad spirits that might be in the area intending to interfere with the release of the man's spirit for its journey.  Off to the side of the crematorium, a man reverently buried the food and drink that had been placed upon the coffin as an offering to the man's spirit while the man's belonging burned.

After consulting with a person who knew about such matters, we walked directly to Duang's mother's home. Duang was concerned that if we did not first go back to the man's former home, the newly released spirit would follow us to her parent's house.  The man told her that it was OK to go directly to her parents.

Another day in the cycle of life in Isaan came to a close.

The Singing Monks of Isaan

Monk Singing His Role As A "Father" - At This Point A " Dead Father" In A Dream

I have had the elements of this blog organized in my mind for almost a month now.  The combination of a desire to complete editing and post processing all the photographs associated with this blog entry along with some inexplicable reticence to finalize the blog have delayed me until today.

Today, as it turns out, was worth waiting for.  As you can tell from the title this blog entry is about singing Monks - Buddhist Monks.  Most people are familiar with the chanting of many sects of Christian Monks.  Back in the 1960's there was a famous "Singing Nun". On the cable news today there was story about an Italian Monk who has signed a recording contract.  Buddhist Monks are renowned for their chanting.  On the Internet you can find many videos and mp 3 recordings of Buddhist Monks chanting.

Buddhist Monks singing?  I suspect that not many people are familiar with Buddhist Monks singing.  If you research on the Internet you will undoubtedly quite easily find that Monks are not supposed to sing.  Well there are many things that Buddhists as well as Buddhist Monks should or should not do. The practical application and inclusion of local customs and practices make defining Buddhist practices in short universal statements difficult.  Think in terms of a house - the foundations of homes are basically the same.  The functions of a house are the same.  However there are many different appearing structures built upon a foundation to serve the function of a house.

I have written several times about rituals or elements of rituals that although they were performed by Buddhists and in some cases in which Buddhist Monks participated, they were not part of Buddhism.  The  tying of strings around the wrists of laypeople, the sprinkling of holy water on laypeople, the wearing of amulets, idols, talisman  and use of fireworks are all vestiges of earlier animist and Hindu beliefs and practices to the local cultures which are Buddhist today. Buddhism is an an tremendously tolerant "religion" in that these practices are not condemned but assimilated and accepted into the Buddhist practice for they give the local people confidence and inspiration to continue along on their Buddhist path.

Last month we attended a special merit making event in Tahsang Village for some of my wife's relatives.  The special merit making ritual is difficult to describe in a few words - it is essentially a big party to mark the death of a relative.  The party is not to celebrate the death per se but it is an occasion to assist the spirit of the departed on its journey to its next life by making offerings to and for the spirit as well as the local Monks.

These events are quite common here in Isaan.  Theoretically these events are held around one year after the person has died.  But the reality is they are held when the family can financially afford to pay or finance them.  For the event we attended last month, Duang's Aunt was holding the event for her husband who died 10 years ago and for her mother who died 20 years ago.  Due to the cost of such events they are some times combined with another occasion which requires a big "celebration".   In the case of  Duang's Aunt last month, her son was also becoming a Monk.  The event lasts all day and all night with it completing the next day.

We arrived in the morning to participate in the offering of food to the Monks and cutting of Duang's nephew's hair in preparation to becoming a Monk. In the early afternoon  three throne like chairs were set up underneath the main canopy.  These golden intricately carved wood chairs are used for Monks to sit cross legged upon while reading or lecturing the scriptures.  However on that day, I learned that they are also used for another purpose - for Monks to sit in while they sing.

After the chairs had been set up, three Monks that I had never seen before arrived.  These Monks brought their own microphones, amplifiers, mixing boards, and computers.  They even had a young man to set it up for them.  I knew that I was about to learn something new.

From Duang, I learned that these Monks were from another village and they go and put on a "show" for people.  The "show" turned out to be a morality play - a play about life and Buddhist family values.  One Monk played the part of a father.  The second Monk played the part of a son.  The third Monk, the youngest played the part of the mother.  Most of the performance was song with dialogue providing transitions between the songs.

According to Duang we were witnessing "Nangmakao".  A performance usually takes 4 hours. Due to the need to parade through the village as part of the Monk Ordination ritual later in the afternoon, this performance was cut down to three hours.  It is a story about a mother, father, grown-up son, and grown-up daughter. The daughter is "no-good" in that she talks bad to her parents and does not take care of her parents.  "Take care" involves financially, and materially supporting your parents. It runs the gamut from giving them money each month to cooking and cleaning as necessary to keep your parents well.  In the Lao Loum culture the burden of this is the responsibility of the youngest daughter but expected of all the children.  So in this story the daughter is especially bad - not respecting and taking care of her parents and not doing it as the youngest daughter.  The son on the other hand is a good person.  He takes care of his parents.  The songs deal with what the daughter does not do and should do.  The songs from each family member's perspective deals with their sadness and disappointment that the daughter does not have a "good heart".

A Monk. in the role of "Mother" Cries About Her Children

As part of the morality play, the son dreams that his mother and father die.  The spirits of his deceased parents want food and money for their journey to the next life but are not able to get them.  The son, who was a good son but not a perfect son, is devastated at the loss of his parents.  He laments the times that he did not respect them and the fights that he had with his father.  The mother cries as she sings about all the times her children did not visit her and take care of her. The father is more angry in his singing and laments about how sad and how much the mother cries because of the children.  Despite the son and daughter being wealthy, the father sings that they do not want to take care of their parents apparently telling them to go away like dogs in the street to get food  This is definitely not nice in any culture - for sure!

The son wakes up from his dream and kind of reads the riot act to his sister about taking care of their parents.  The daughter turns a new leaf and starts to pray to Buddha every day and takes care of her parents like she is supposed to  do.  The son also takes care of his parents and becomes an even better son.

The songs are sung in the style of traditional Mahlam Lao but without any musical accompaniment.  The songs are sung with a great deal of warbling and tonal range.  This link is one of the songs that the Monks sang but without the instrumental accompaniment.   http://youtu.be/OnoSvHUVHGo

As the Monks performed, laypeople would approach them, and place money offerings to the Monks in the cloth bag that hung from each golden throne.  The Monks would then place "Saikaen" in the offering plate for the layperson.  "Saikaen" are braided string bracelets over which the Monks have recited scriptures and chanted over.  They are worn by people for good luck and fortune.  They are dropped on an offering plate to ensure that Monks have no physical contact with women.  For larger offerings to Monks or from a Monk, the object is first placed on a folded cloth which the recipient will then pull towards them to accept the offering.

Duang Accepts "Saikaen" From Singing Monk

At the beginning of the performance, two trays of food and drink were placed on the raised platform where the Monks had been previously seated.  The food and drink were offerings to the spirits of the deceased husband and deceased mother of Duang's aunt.

At the conclusion of the Nangmakao, a special merit making ritual was performed for the benefit of the two departed spirits.  Laypeople burned Joss Sticks as the Monks chanted about the spirits going up rather than hanging around now that they have been given food, money, and the Monks have taken care them

Merit Making Ritual for the Departed Spirits.

There was not a dry eye underneath the canopy - it was quite emotional and sad.

I earned some merit too, not necessarily in terms of the Buddhist religion, but with my in-laws when Duang noticed and pointed out to everyone that I was crying too as I was taking photographs.

It was a very moving experience.  The youngest Monk, who played the role of the Mother, gave Duang his card.  I told her that when I died I wanted them to do their singing for me but I was not planning on it being any time soon.  I also had Duang tell him that if she died before me, I would become a Monk and he and I could go to all the villages to make people cry with our singing.  We all had a good laugh.

Spirit Houses Constructed for Merit Making Ritual

The next morning the spirit houses specially constructed for the departed people along with the money offerings, rice, sahts (woven reed mats), mons (pillows) and other offerings collected from the laypeople would be paraded through the village on their way to be presented to the local Monks on behalf of the departed spirits as well as donors.

Last weekend, we attended in Nongdaeng Village another ritual for the spirit of a departed relative.  The most recent ritual was for the death of a mother 5 years ago.  This event also included singing Monks but different ones than at the December ritual.  This time there was also the full 4 hour version of the "Nangmakao".  Once again it was a very interesting, and moving experience.

Monk Singing "Father" Role of Nangmakao in Nongdaeng Village

Our grandson, Peelawat who will be 4 years old next month, seemed to enjoy the performance.  He split up his time on my lap, as I took photographs, and on Duang's lap where she instructed him in worshiping   He also got to eat ice cream and drink Coke so he was happy the entire four hours.

Peelawat learning to Chant In Pali

A Monk Singing As Part of Merit Making Ritual

Family Making Offerings to Spirit of Their Grandmother

Food Offerings for the Spirit

So although Monks are not supposed to sing, apparently the local custom in Isaan allows them to sing in order to instruct the Lao Loum laypeople the teachings of Buddha and to assist people to make merit for the departed.

This is the way that life is here in Isaan.

There is always something new to witness and learn even if you think that you have seen it all.

Things are not always the way they seem or as simple as they appear at first.

There are many levels of understanding and as you delve deeper into the details of the culture, the richer the world around you becomes and the fuller your life becomes.

There is no need for any of us to watch a "reality show", for real life is waiting for each one of us if we but open our eyes, ears, and mind.

Reunion

My 1967 Senior Class Photo

This year my graduating class of 1967 at Robert E. Fitch Senior High will be having its 45th Reunion.

The opportunity of attending this reunion has presented me with a dilemma.  Why should I make an effort to attend an event with people who I have not seen or communicated with in 45 years?  Obviously these are people that have meant very little to me and I have meant very little to them over the years for if we had, we would have maintained some contact.  On the other hand, the reunion does present an opportunity, perhaps the last opportunity for many, to express my appreciation and regards to people who shared events and experiences from a critical time period of my life.  Perhaps more importantly a reunion provides the opportunity to pay some respects to fellow classmates who are no longer alive.

Perhaps many of us did not turn out the way that we were supposed to or were expected to.  Life has a habit of presenting opportunities and challenges to the path that we start upon or the path that we prefer to travel on our life journey.  However it is our decisions and manner in which we cope with these opportunities as well as challenges that makes each life so interesting and rich.  At the events like this, we learn that we are not alone ... alone in the suffering, joys, triumphs, and disappointments of life.  We are not alone in having shared many of the world events that have shaped history over the past 45 years.

Attending a reunion is not a matter of seeking vindication for the choices that we have made or giving vindication to others for theirs. Rather it is an opportunity to share those choices and to perhaps better understand why we are who we are today and to understand better where we came from.

I have addressed the fear of perhaps being on my death bed and wondering back upon my life and questioning "What would my life had been like, if back ... I had ..."  I did not want to be in that situation, so I made a decision to take that branch off to the side of the road and discover what lay down that road.  I do not regret having done that for my life is richer and more complete.

So after discussing it with Duang, I agreed that we will attend the reunion.  I don't want to regret at some point not having attended.  It will be an opportunity to thank some people and express appreciation to some people for the influence that they had on me so long ago.  Attending the reunion will also be an experience for Duang to learn a little more about American culture, my past, and to enjoy a night out.

Duang and I have traveled many miles to encounter and interact with peoples of very different cultures.  We have enjoyed the opportunity to learn and experience what other people are like.  We have never been disappointed.  Having done that and our intention is to continue doing that, it is only logical that we would cross the river to spend some time with some people that I went to school with.

I will return to Groton from Thailand on Thursday night, so after 30 hours of travel and 13 hours of time change, it should be even that more interesting for me on Saturday night.

It is far better, in my mind, to be curious than to be sorry.  One thing that I am certain of, there will be no 90th Reunion.

URI LXA Reunion

Giving Credit and A Tribute to My Own Ones


Yesterday, Duang and I enjoyed a very special day; a day spent with some of my fraternity brothers, their wives, and some of our special friends from our days at the University of Rhode Island.  I had not seen many of the people since 1971.  Through the technology of the Internet I have reestablished contact with some of them through FaceBook but such interactions are rather restrictive as well as limited.

It was through FaceBook that I discovered that many of my fraternity brothers were reuniting for the weekend.  Yesterday I received the details and drove over to Rhode Island to become reacquainted with people with whom I share a common experience.

This morning as I reflect upon the friendship of yesterday and the bonds established 44 years ago, I am reminded of similar feelings from a previous visit back to America a couple years ago.  Just as then ...
I would like to share one of my favorite (I have many) songs that seems to summarize my emotions and thoughts so well regarding this reunion. Although I am not Irish, the words and thoughts of this song are meaningful and applicable to me and I believe to everyone. I found the lyrics on tp://www.lyrics.astraweb.com/.

Artist: Van Morrison

Album: Irish Heartbeat

Title: Irish Heartbeat

"Oh won't you stay


Stay a while with your own ones


Don't ever stray


Stray so far from your own ones


'cause the world is so cold


Dont care nothing for your soul


That you share with your own ones



Don't rush away


Rush away from your own ones


Just one more day


One more day with your own ones


'cause the world is so cold


Don't care nothing bout your soul


That you share with your own ones



There's a stranger


And he's standing at your door


Might be your best friend, might be your brother


You may never know



I'm going back


Going back to my own ones


Come back to talk


Talk a while with my own ones


'cause the world is so cold


Don't care nothing 'bout your soul


You share with your own ones




Oh won't you stay


One more day with your own ones


Don't rush away


Rush away from your own ones


This old world is so cold,


Don't care nothing for your soul


You share with your own ones"


I came back this time to be with my own ones - some of my friends from a distant past and a far away land of my youth.  More importantly, Duang was able to meet some of the people that influenced me and we had shared our youth together.

I was surprised and very pleased with the caring and camaraderie that I shared with some of my old friends yesterday. Some friends, I had last seen and spoke with during my last year of college back in Rhode Island in 1971.

Despite the lengthy physical separation, the bonds of our shared experiences during the four years at the university survived the years and tribulations of our individual lives. Although we physically changed a great deal, spiritually it was as if we were reunited after only a short semester break. Some people say or perhaps they wrote that making friends in New England is very difficult but that when you do make a friend, you have a friend for life.  Yesterday was truly a testimony to that fact.
I am not so sure that it true that New Englanders are not friendly - it just might be that they are suspicious!  However I know it to be true that a New England friend is a friend for life. There is no need to call, write, or visit often. The friendship is kept and maintained in the heart as well as in the soul.

Life is surprising and can not always be explained. Often it is best to accept and enjoy its richness for what it is. Yesterday was such a time for all of us - a time to celebrate and share our individual lives and the common experience of living.


"Oh won't you stay


One more day with your own ones


Don't rush away


Rush away from your own ones ..."

Duang and I stayed late into the evening as if trying to make the day last even longer, or to bask in the warmth of the day's camaraderie a while longer.  But duties and responsibilities remain so we had to leave.

However, it is through this blog and the Internet that I hope to continue to talk to and to be with my own ones.

I leave proud and happy to have seen and talked with my own ones once again.  Although the world in America has grown old and is experiencing serious economic hardships, their friendship as well as camaraderie survives and prevails. I am a richer person for the friendship, affection, and love of my own ones. I give them credit and I pay them tribute - "Thank You".

I am sure that you too share the wealth of your "own ones".  It is one of the treasures of life.

200th Post - Elementary School Program

This is the 200th post of Allen's World - I guess some sort of a milestone.

Last night we had a late night returning home from Tahsang Village after midnight.

I am not sure what we did but we enjoyed ourselves immensely. It is not that I drank too much and can not remember the night. It was the event that we attended and participated in was unlike anything I have attended before. I will try to describe it as best as I can and give my interpretation of the events.

My wife had told me that a teacher at the Tahsang Village was leaving to teach at another village school. There was going to be a party to wish him good luck. It all sounded simple enough and not anything all that special.

As the day wore on she gave me a better idea of what the evening's activities would be. There was going to be another parade where the students would walk from Tahsang Village to the Elementary School. People were going to eat dinner at the school. Last year we had attended a fund raiser at the school so I thought that I had a pretty good idea of what to expect. Later in the afternoon, Duang's son stopped by to take Duang to the Chinese wholesale store to buy 3 cases 1.25 liter bottles of soda for the school children. He bought two huge (2 foot diameter by 5 foot long) bags of snack food for the children.

I was involved in a long conversation to Korea over the phone, so we were unable to head out to Tahsang until 6:00 PM thereby missing out on the "parade". We arrived at the school and it was very apparent that the evening would be different for sure.

The front of the school was filled with all types of tents of various construction. Some tents were typical nylon camping tents that you buy at sporting goods stores. Some tents were made out of tarps placed over sticks that had been driven into the ground to form loops. Some tents were very similar to tepees.

About 300 children were running around playing tag, muay thai boxing, and in general having a great time. In the center of the field was a large pyramid of wood awaiting to be lit to create a bonfire. There were several of the pavilions that are used to provide shelter at celebrations. Amongst the encampment, at least 8 village dogs were running about.

We parked the truck to offload the supplies and were greeted by one of the teachers. She arranged for help to offload the truck and wanted our names. She needed our names so that the man at the PA system could announce our donation and give us proper credit. It seems that in Isaan there is no such thing as an anonymous donation.

After offloading the truck we went to a covered area where people were being served food that was being prepared and cooked by mothers of some of the students. As I looked around I started getting a better idea of what was going on. Some of the adults were wearing portions of Boy Scout uniforms. Because the people are not wealthy, there was only one man who had a complete uniform. Two women wore US Marine Corps Drill Instructor style hats and several had only a Boy Scout bandanna around their neck to indicate their affiliation.

This appeared to be a sort of Boy Scout Jamboree except that the number of girls far exceeded the number of boys. Again, because the children are poor, for those that had a uniform, their uniform consisted solely of a bandanna around their neck. I questioned Duang about what was going on and she indicated that this was like a party for the end of the year and beginning of a new year. Nine village schools were participating in the camp out. On Saturday the students were going to pack up and hike to a different village school to camp out. Friday night, Tahsang Village was hosting the group and was responsible for feeding the masses and running the program.

Before we even took our seats to eat, I was given a glass of whiskey and soda. I shared it with Duang and she was eventually given her own glass. It seems that all social functions here, there is drinking. Duang introduced me to many of the men at the table. No women other than Duang were seated at the table. The women had apparently eaten earlier and were occupied serving the men. Duang and I sort of bridge typical Isaan customs at these events. Men and women typically sit apart from each other including merit making rituals at the Wat. However since I am clueless most of the time as to what is going on, I sit with Duang so that she can explain to me. Our seemingly breaches of etiquette are tolerated and apparently accepted. However I don't think that we will be influencing Isaan Lao Loum customs any time soon.

After finishing our meal, we were directed to the area in front of the pavilion where the announcer and PA equipment were located. A row of stuffed sofas and chairs along with a cocktail table were situated at the edge of the field. Behind the stuffed furniture was a row of plastic chairs where we were directed to sit. This arrangement is typical at Isaan events. Monks, dignitaries and government officials sit in the front rows on stuffed furniture. No Monks attended the festivities. The front row was comprised of each village's "Headman" and some dignitaries from the District. When the dignitaries were seated, a woman brought them glasses of beer and whiskey. Seated behind them, Duang and I were given glasses of cola.

The Master of Ceremonies commenced his address when there was huge commotion to the side of the public address system. The lights flicked and went out . The sound system went dead. The air was filled with cries, growls and flying dirt. One of the 8 village dogs had tried to get up very close and extremely personal with one of the dogs, she vehemently objected as well as a couple of the other male dogs. During their battle, the extension cord supplying electricity to the pavilion was dislodged. Order and electricity were eventually restored although the dogs continued to have their "differences" the rest of the night - a little bit of unplanned and unexpected entertainment.

The planned entertainment commenced with a fire lighting ceremony. Some girls came out in costumes along with headdresses and danced around the wood pyre in a skipping type dance in accompaniment to conga drum beats as well as chanting my the "Boy Scout" adults. Their outfits were brown sacks that had been decorated with day glow paint. Four black lights had been mounted on bamboo poles around the pyre. Their headdress was a day glow head band with a cardboard day glow feather over each ear. I was not certain if the girls represented some Lao Loum deity, Animist spirits, or Thai mythological figures. When they and the adults gave out war whoops a la 1950's television and movies that I realized that they were "Indian" maidens. After the maidens had taken their position, a "warrior" arrived. He appeared to be more of an Inca or Mayan warrior and unfortunately he was very overweight. He skipped danced around the maidens three times. On one of the passes in front of us, a man called out to him in Lao "You are too fat. You eat too much pig!"- talk about a tough crowd! Undeterred the boy trooped on. He came before the District Leader, a man with respect and deference that I am sure that President Obama wished that he had,an received a lit torch. The warrior chief then danced to bring a torch to each of the 4 maidens located at the cardinal compass points of the pyre. Once all the torches were delivered the wood pyre was ignited with the torches. As the pyre leaped into flames, fireworks were shot into sky. A total of 7 fireworks were shot into the sky exploding into colorful bursts with powerful booms. While the fireworks were shooting into the sky, some of the maidens had long tubes that were shooting roman candles over the fire.

The students, assembled around the field, watched in amazement and excitement along with their parents as well as younger siblings. This was a family as well as community event. Everyone was in good spirits - some adults in more "spirits" than others.


One of the leaders moved his chair and ended up inadvertently placing it upon my empty glass. I spoke to him in Thai to wait a minute and removed the glass from underneath his chair. The next thing that I knew was that he wanted me to sit in the stuffed chair next to his. I sat down, and a woman brought me a glass of beer - Yes rank has it's privileges. But there is no such thing as a free lunch or glass of beer. Some young girls came out and danced around the fire bearing offerings for the dignitaries. One girl presented a trophy that would be awarded to the school that was judged to have had the best spirit. Another girl presented a watermelon that had some bamboo sticks with papers stuck on them. Other girls had fresh leis made out of banana blossoms. The dignitaries placed the floral arrangements around their necks. I was given two of the leis to wear. But as Duang so often tells me "This is Thailand, not same as America" - I could not fit the leis over my large head! After consultation with Duang and the dignitaries, it was determined that I should wear one lei on my head like a crown and one wrapped around my left wrist.


I mentioned that there is no such thing as a free lunch or glass of beer. After receiving the leis, the dignitaries and I had to dance with the girls around the fire. Fortunately I am familiar and comfortable with dancing Lao style. The crowd was also kinder to me than the previous warrior chief. It was great fun and upon returning to our seats, the District Leader poured and sent me a shot of whiskey. Rank has it's privileges - especially in Isaan. I was offered more liquor but since I was driving I did not accept the kind invitations.

There was a full night of entertainment and activities. The children enthusiastically participated in round singing, cheering competitions, and exercises. Each school presented a skit. As best as I can determine the skits were reinforcing social behaviors such as not smoking, patriotism, not let your dogs attack people's ducks, etc. Two of the schools had their girls perform Go-Go or MTV video type dance routines. It appears the the Isaan pipeline of dancers to Bangkok and Pattaya will be kept functioning well in the future. Prior to and after presenting their skit, the groups lined up in front of the dignitaries and gave them a three fingered salute which was returned by the District Leader. It appeared to me that the entire event is designed to reinforce and encourage community values as well as expectations with the students.

Tahsang Village school was the most comical to watch last night. They were "naughty boys". A couple of the younger brothers who do not attend school, sat with their older siblings. They were not bashful at all - dancing any and every time there was a beat in the air. Many times their dancing disintegrated into "kick boxing". It was very entertaining especially knowing that they were not your children or going home with you.

The program ended around 11:30 PM with the students going to their tents to sleep. Some teachers and two security guards remained to watch over the children. Naturally the dogs remained trying to do what they had been trying to do all night long. No seemed to mind.

We were invited to stay longer while a pig was roasted over the fire that had been used in the festivities. The Tahsang Village Headman set up his computer with a small amplifier for karaoke. A couple of the teachers sang Isaan songs. They were excellent singers and pleasant to listen to.

It was getting late so after eating some fresh grilled pig intestines, we left for the one hour drive back to Udonthani.

I am not certain what it was all about. I am not sure that I understood what was going on. I know that we had enjoyed another unique Isaan experience.

Hmong Music

Almost two years ago Duang and I ventured to Chiang Mai to visit the Hill Tribe people as well as to celebrate my birthday. I had contacted a tour company that I had previously used on three trips to Maehongson and one trip to Chiang Rai.

One of the many highlights of our trip to Chiang Mai was a visit to a Hmong village on a mountain top outside of the city. Our guide attended university with one of the village leaders who was working on opening up his village to tourism. The Hmong were once very much involved in the cultivation of opium poppies and production of heroin. The illicit trade has been largely eradicated and programs instituted under Royal sponsorship to provide other income streams for the Hmong people.

As we drove up the mountain towards the village, we saw evidence of some of these programs. Large fields of flowers and associated small support buildings for a commercial nursery clung to the steep hillsides. In other areas large plots of cabbages were growing on the steep hill sides.

We arrived at the village and were met by two of the village elders dressed in traditional Hmong clothing. They lead us on a walking tour of the village and tours of some of the homes. We watched a woman working on producing batik cloth with traditional Hmong designs. She was using a stylo and melted bees wax to make intricate geometric patterns on white cotton cloth. Later the cloth would be dyed to produce a distinctive blue on indigo fabric.

After awhile, we were informed that there would be a special party in honor of our visit and my birthday. The festivities commenced with a welcoming ceremony and show put on by the villagers.

The village Headman played traditional music a large as well as long reed instrument called the "qeej". The qeej is played by a combination of blowing and sucking air in and out of the qeej. The qeej is often used to perform traditional music at Hmong funerals and at New Years celebrations. Traditional music is played mostly for ceremonial purposes and our visit was apparently considered cause enough.

Hmong music is an extension of the Hmong language. Each note represents a word. To the Hmong people the qeej sounds are a speech. To me the qeej was unlike any music that I had ever heard before. To me it lacked the harmonics and melody that we associate with music. It was interesting for sure. Qeej players are story tellers who perform centuries old songs. They often dance as they play the 5 to 6 foot long reed instrument. The village Headman was no exception. He danced as he played. He danced in a very fluid and graceful manner as he managed to keep the qeej mainly parallel to the ground. He turned quickly to the left, to the right, and in complete circles as he played.

The Hmong people are mostly Animists and believe that when the qeej is played, ghosts will go after the musician. To prevent the spirits from following him, the musician dances in a circle to lose the spirits.

After the qeej music, a village woman in traditional Hmong clothing played a "ncas dai npib" (mouth organ). The ncas dai npib is the Hmong equivalent of the Jew's harp. The ncas is a very thin metal blade that has several slots cut into it. It is placed in front of the musicians open mouth with one hand and struck with the other to produce a very soft almost like a whisper sound. The ncas is used for private communication. It is specifically used in courting rituals. A young Hmong girl will go to sleep or pretend to go to sleep inside her parent's home and her suitor will appear outside the window to tell her of his love, admiration and what ever else will likely work for him using the ncas. Again the music notes are words so a great deal can be conveyed by the song.

Another part of the villager's show was a man leaf blowing - "daj plooj". He used a banana leaf held between his thumbs to create music by blowing air across the leaf's edge. We were told that people can communicate from mountain to mountain using leaf blowing. He was able to effortlessly make some very large sounds of different pitches and tones. Despite never being very successful back in New England with "grass blowing", I accepted the offer to demonstrate my leaf blowing. Through much patient assistance and advice, I was able to get a sound, more of a squawk out of the banana leaf much to the delight and amusement of the Hmong villagers. I don't know if it was my labored efforts or the actual sound that was so funny. Knowing now that tones are also words, my "music" may actually have been saying something funny or embarrassing.

There was also a demonstration of swordsmanship. Again there were fluid and graceful movements utilized to show the villager's prowess with the Hmong sword. Fortunately, I was not asked to demonstrate my swordsmanship.

At the conclusion of the show, we went inside for a sit down dinner. From community bowls, we shared a very tasteful meal of chicken, forest soup, rice, green beans, and other vegetables. The food was washed down with bottomless small cups of rice wine. The liquid was called "wine" but it was more like vodka in taste as well as strength. The rice wine was produced in the village and was quite potent - I suspect around 60 to 80 proof. The food and drink was very conducive to lively and animated conversation.

We learned about the King's program to provide alternatives to growing poppies for the Hmong people. One of the village men had been selected to receive silversmith training. He had gone to Bangkok to be taught silversmith techniques. He became quite adept at it and was part of the Royal artisans producing intricate as well as delicate pieces of silver jewelry. He showed us some of his work and it was very impressive. His hope is to set up a shop and school in the village to train other people of his village. The villagers asked us about our lives and families. It was a very nice evening - good food, good drink, and great people.