Friday 10 April - Isaan Rocket Program

Last Friday, April 10, the day after Songpoo Day here in Isaan while the world was preoccupied with indignation regarding North Korea's ballistic missile test over Japan, Isaan, or more accurately Tahsang Village, commenced a new season of rocket launches.

Last year upon arrival in Isaan from Vietnam, we attended Songpoo Day celebrations in Tahsang Village. As part of the celebration last year, the village launched several rockets from the Wat grounds. It was my understanding that these launches like the launches associated with Bang Fei Festival in another Isaan town were associated with wishes for the return of the rainy season. From May through September, you can often see contrails from the ground reaching high into late afternoon sky. Last year we also attended a local competition where rockets from several villages competed against each other for bragging rights.


On Friday the launching of the rockets was staged outside of the Wat walls. Whereas the cover story for these launches was offerings for the return of the rainy season similar to North Korea's claim to be launching a satellite it appeared the main reason for the launches was to demonstrate the prowess of the various rocketeers. Rockets were set up on the launch pad and unlike the North Korea's rocket setting out and being visible to American reconnaissance satellites for weeks, the Isaan rockets were only visible until all negotiations were completed. These were not negotiations related to any United Nation's resolutions or Party of 5 or 6 or any other number of nations participating or even independent international inspection agencies. The negotiations involved the rocketeer and the witnesses to the launches. Until the rocketeer had acceptable commitments from the launch witnesses. Several people walked around apparently as intermediaries with handfuls of cash.

Back in California I would have been convinced that there was wagering and gambling going on. Here in Thailand as I have mentioned in several blogs, gambling other than the National Daily Lottery is illegal. It appears that some of the Monks may have provided escrow services in that many people gave money or perhaps offerings to the Monks.


One of the launches was delayed and only after a prolonged as well as loud discussion did the rocketeer agree to launch his vehicle. During his ranting and raving he had approached me -apparently seeking my involvement in the financing of his research into aerodynamics. I feigned ignorance and he eventually came to an acceptable arrangements with others.

Rockets were transported to the launch site in the back of local pickup trucks. Technicians loaded the empty rocket casings with black gunpowder and apparently some other secret ingredients next to their pickup trucks. Since at this point in the development of the Isaan rockets are solid fuel vehicles, the alcohol that was available in the area was consumed by the rocketeers and associated launch crews.

Booths at the launch site sold soft drinks as well as beer and Lao moonshine. The booths did a very good business. Other booths sold small bottle rockets. One woman set up a BBQ grill and was cooking chickens to feed the spectators. For people who are not fond of chicken there were trays of cooked (sauteed and fried) insects and dried frogs available to purchase for consumption.

There was a temporary awning set up close to the launch pad. Launch, but apparently not government, officials sat underneath the awning along with the PA system. An electrical cord ran from this area approximately 100 meters out to where the launch observers where located. From this point the officials announced the launch and tracked each rocket's progress. Most importantly of all there were two men who determined the total elapsed time from launch to return to Earth for each rocket. The results were announced and the results recorded by a young woman underneath the awning.

The launch pad director sat in a chair between the awning and the launch pad. He had a board upon which he wrote information in chalk for each rocket. Close to him was the launch pad safety officer. The safety officer carried a long bamboo pole with a flag on each end. Just prior to a launch, he flipped the pole around so that the green flag was elevated otherwise the red flag was elevated. It was surprising how long it took for a rocket to return to the ground. The results were announced and some of the spectators were very happy and could later be seen with wads of money clasped tightly in the hand. I am not sure that the launch results are not classified so I will not divulge them.

We left as the sun was getting low in the sky. It was another interesting day here in Isaan. Interesting to observe and fun to write about.

Dying In Isaan - A Buddhist Funeral

Things have been very busy here in Udonthani for us. Besides reviewing and editing many but not quite all the photographs from the photography shoot in Maehongson region the first week of this month, we went to Bangkok to visit the American Embassy to deal with US Federal Income Tax Return issue, and to obtain a document required to extend my visa to remain in Thailand for another year. Sounds simple enough but to complete the 20 minute task at the Embassy required an eight and one-half hour bus journey to Bangkok, and overnight stay to be ready to report at my appointment time of 08:30 A.M. followed then by an 8.5 hours trip back by bus to Udonthani. We have made this trip by overnight bus with an immediate return after our Embassy appointment but it is brutal and travelling by bus at night is not as safe as travelling during the day. There is no problem with violence at night. The problem is buses tend to run into or off of things during the night. Spending a night in a hotel and travelling by day is easier on the body as well as the mind. To underscore this concern, the day after upon our return, we drove out to Tahsang Village for "Songpoo Day". Along the main road to Bangkok just outside of Kumphawapi there was a bus in a rice paddy - all smashed up and partially burned. It did not look good at all. Later we found out that no one had been killed but many people were hospitalized.

We returned to Tahsang Village the day after Songpoo Day for "Bang Fei" - rocket launchings. Photographs from both days had to be reviewed and edited. Both days will also be included in blog entries - someday.

On top of all these activities, we have been experiencing intermittent Internet access issues. The rainy season is rapidly approaching and we get a good thundershower at least every other day now. Rain and accompanying wind seem to knock out Internet access at the house. TOT has customer service numbers but does not answer the phone. Eventually service gets restored - between 2 hours to 48 hours.

On top of all of this I am busy with paperwork for finally closing on the sale of the house in California. Finally it has been sold.

To further complicate time management and occupy our time, Thailand is celebrating "Songkran", Thai New Year's - a very big family orientated 4 to 6 day holiday.

Yesterday however was not a day for celebration. We went to Tahsang Village to attend the funeral of an old woman from the village. The woman was the mother-in-law of one of Duang's friends. I first met the woman in January of this year. I had photographed her as she was preparing to chew some betel nut. I have often written about the sense of community and lack of privacy here in Isaan. This woman was no exception to these facts. Duang was fond of the woman and was very sympathetic towards her. During their conversation, I learned that the woman had breast cancer and had recently been operated on. As if to validate what Duang was translating the woman, without any prompting on my part, showed me her mastectomy. I was taken aback at this unabashed gesture on her part. Later during the chat under the glaring hot sun, she removed both the towel and ski toque from her head. It was plain to see that in addition to surgery she had also undergone chemotherapy. It was touching to observe the sense of caring and love between Duang and this impoverished old lady. Many of the people in Tahsang Village are poor but this woman was poorer than them so I use the term "impoverished". She was the widow of a poor subsistence farmer and lived alone in a ramshackle hut in the village.

Two weeks ago we visited her at her home in the village. Her health had deteriorated significantly. She was outside laying on a saht (woven reed mat) underneath the thatched roof of the raised wood platform outside of the house. Family members, friends, and neighbors surrounded her attending to her and keeping her company. Children wandered around or played in close proximity to her. It was apparent that end was approaching for her. True to form, and practise here in Isaan, she despite being in at times a semi-conscious state, willing shared her condition. Her cancer had returned and whereas in January when her chest looked healthy her chest was swollen and had dark mass protruding from it. Duang and I paid our respects to her for what was to be the last time.

Three days ago, she died. She died at home like most of the villagers in Isaan do when their time has arrived. Upon her death, her family contacted the Monks of the village Wat who helped with the arrangements. Her family tended to her body and she remained inside of her home. She was placed inside of a simple white coffin which had only a couple of decorations on it. This white coffin was placed inside of an elaborately decorated refrigerated outer coffin. The refrigerated coffin plugged into an electrical outlet and preserved her body for the next three days.

We returned to her home yesterday morning under a hot and blazing sun around 12:15 P. M. Outside of the home, two rented canopies had been erected along with the permanent platform. Underneath one canopy there were several card games going. Gambling is not legal in Thailand so the money on the floor must have been some means for determining "points" in the games. The players were not loud or boisterous. Although they were not visibly grieving, they were not celebrating. Their demeanor other than intensive focusing on the game was solemn. Prior to going to the funeral I had asked Duang about what to expect. Like most Westerners, I have largely avoided going to funerals and of the few that I have attended have all been Christian never Buddhist rites. Duang said that there was a little bit of sadness at first because the woman had died but not too much because she was old. On a more personal level, Duang informed me that the woman had been very poor, had not had a good life, and now she would not be suffering any more. More importantly, the woman now had the opportunity to come some day for a better life.

This attitude is apparently a reflection of Buddhist philosophy and beliefs. I never saw any demonstration of emotion, or grief throughout the ceremony. The belief in reincarnation, and therefore the continuous cycle of birth, death, and rebirth until Enlightenment is achieved removes much of the finality that Christianity associates with death. We speak of life everlasting and being reunited after our time is completed on Earth but we behave much differently when someone does pass on. What I did see all afternoon long during this Buddhist ritual was caring, solemn, and respectful consideration for the departed person. It appeared that just about the entire village showed up and many of them participated directly in the funeral.

In side the woman's home, several Monks, and family members were seated on the floor with the body inside of a refrigerated coffin. Atop the rented cooler, an 11" x 14" framed photograph of the woman which appeared to be taken off of her National I D card, an artificial flower arrangement, some candles, and some plants were placed as a sort of altar. The Monks appeared to have completed their meal. The Monks and people inside chanted some prayers. People underneath the awning closest to the house joined in the chanting.

After the chanting a young man drove a farm truck up alongside of the home. Other men started taking pieces of ornate sculpted gold colored wood out of the house and placed it in the truck. Later personal affects such as cushions, and bags of clothing were added to this truck.

Off to the other side of the house, an older man was sweeping out the back of a farm truck. After cleaning out the truck, he backed it up to the house. Several village men that I knew and recognized went into the home. They carried the the refrigerated coffin out of the home and respectfully placed it in the back of the farm truck. By now all the card games had ceased and people dressed mostly in dark clothing started to form up around the truck transporting the body. Five Monks appeared and went to the front of the truck. A man produced a long white rope that was attached to the truck. The other end of the rope was held by each Monk in the lead followed by several people that appeared to be relatives. The remainder of the people followed escorting the truck that transported the body. The second truck of personal possessions joined the procession. The woman's daughter carrying the photograph of the deceased walked alongside the truck. One of the village men carried an ornate pressed metal offering bowl filled with puffed rice and sprinkled it along the route. Many people carried offerings for the Monks.

The procession slowly marched to the Wat inside of Tahsang Village with the silence of procession occasionally interrupted by the staccato of firecrackers. The funeral procession circled the Wat's crematorium three times. Most of the people upon completing the circumambulation of the crematorium entered the simple temple next to the crematorium and sat upon sahts placed on the blue tiled floor. Other villagers, who had not participated in the procession were congregated underneath the elevated bot protected from the beating sun.

Some of the village men removed the refrigerated coffin from the truck and carefully placed it on the concrete slab in front of the crematorium. It was opened and the simple white coffin was removed and carried up the stairs to the doors of the furnace. The coffin was placed upon two metal sawhorses. Some other men then unloaded the meager amount of personal possessions from the second farm vehicle and placed them alongside of the crematorium.

People then went into the simple temple where offerings were made to the nine seated Monks. Like the number three, nine is a very good number in Buddhist beliefs. Nine Monks is considered to be a good number for occasions such as weddings, house blessings, and funerals. During the offering ceremony, two young girls passed out small containers of chilled orange drink and later gave each person a small glass of iced fruit drink - welcomed refreshment on a very hot and humid afternoon. The offering ceremony appeared to be like so many of the other ceremonies that I have attended for all kinds of different reasons. I did notice that at one point, there appeared to be some confusion as to which Monk would lead the Monk's chants. The local Monk, that I refer to as "Rocket Man" because his knowledge and involvement of launching local gunpowder fueled rockets, ended up leading the chants in conjunction with another Monk.

There were a couple of times where the Monks were not in synch with their chanting. Later I found out why. The five monks that lead the way for the truck carrying the body were not full-time "professional" Monks. They were two of the woman's sons, two grandsons, and a nephew. In Isaan, and I assume the rest of Thailand, sons and grandsons shave their heads, and shave their eyebrows, and don Monk's clothing to honor and take care of the deceased person. In Thailand, all men are expected to become Monks at some point in their life - typically around the age of 18 to 25 years old dependent upon the family's ability to pay for the ordination ceremony. As such, men in Isaan are very familiar with the chants and rituals. They are familiar but not necessarily proficient at the chanting thus explaining the confusion during this funeral ritual.

In observing the ritual, I did not see anyone that I would consider to be a "professional" in these matters. There was no obvious funeral director or mortuary representatives. Once in awhile the local Monk provided a little direction to the local men but for all intentions it appeared that the lay people were handling the rites. I asked Duang about this and found out that it was the villagers and family that handle the funeral activities with guidance from the Monks. There is no "big company" involved in the funeral. The family washes and prepares the body. Villagers, friends, and neighbors pay their respects by handling other activities. Once again I have witnessed a strong sense of community in Isaan.

I am now well know about the village and surrounding area so I was encouraged by many people to go about and photograph the ceremony. The people were always motioning me forward to photograph some new aspect of the rites even when it exceeded what I thought would be respectful detachment. It was so interesting to observe and I made a great effort to be respectful while seeing and learning as much as I could.

After the offerings were completed in the temple, some men set up the open coffin for the next part of the ritual. The woman lay in her coffin clad in the simple clothing typical of a Lao Loum farmer. Her hands were clasped in the prayer position with three joss sticks and a small yellow candle between her hands as if she was making an offering to Buddha. Her favorite pakama (long plaid cotton strip of cloth) was bundled and placed by the side of her head which was supported by a small Isaan style pillow.

A young man produced several green coconuts and used a long knife to cut off the tops to exact the clear liquid inside. Another man had several pieces of bamboo about 18 inches long with a ring of colored ribbon strung through the slanted top. These tubes were like the tubes filled with cooked sticky rice with bananas that are for sale alongside of the roads.

By now the family had appeared and climbed up the steps of the crematorium to where the coffin rested. They started taking the coconuts and emptying the contents into the coffin as well as from the bamboo tubes. Curious I climbed the stairs to see what actually was going on. One of the men gave me a bamboo tube and motioned me to go ahead and tend to the body. I lifted the bamboo to my nose to determine what was the liquid was. The bamboo tube was filled with scented water. I went to the coffin and started to poured the liquid on the torso of the body. The man motioned to me that I should pour it on the face which I did with the remaining liquid. I later found out from Duang that everyone in Isaan has their face "washed" with coconut liquid because everyone likes coconut water and it cleans the face.

The remainder of the people including many children of all ages had now lined up at the foot of the stairs. At the base of the stairway there were two large bowls with little packets made out of bamboo strips and paper with a small yellow offering candle. Each person took one of these things and placed it upon the body when they paid their last respects. While this was going on, a man started a small fire out of twigs and leaves at the back end of the crematorium just off of the concrete slab. He and a couple other men added some cardboard boxes and plastic bags to the fire. These meager items from a life now completed were the favorite items such as saht, cosmetics, toothbrush, comb, and clothing were being burned to accompany the woman on her journey. A woman from atop the crematorium platform tossed handfuls of penny candy and one baht coins wrapped in colored paper to the people - reminiscent of the act done for a newly ordained Monk.

After people had paid their respects, local villagers poked holes in the plastic liner of the coffin to drain the coconut water and scented water. The coffin was then placed inside of the furnace. The coffin and body was sprinkled with benzene and the furnace door was closed. The furnace was ignited and as the first wisps of smoke came out of the crematorium chimney, the sky darkened with the sound of thunder rapidly approaching. By the time we walked back to Duang's parent's house the village was hit by a furious thunderstorm.

Duang indicated to me that the family was very poor. Rental of the refrigerated coffin was 800 baht ($22.85 USD). A falang (foreigner) who is married to a Tahsang village woman donated the water and soft drinks that were offered to the Monks. A local man had donated some money to pay the funeral. Duang told me that the funeral was small and that people with more money would have a bigger funeral with more talking.

For me a richer family could not have had a grander or better funeral. This ritual was simple, touching, and very dignified. I was very impressed with the sense of caring, sense of community and respect exhibited by all the people. It was interesting as well as reassuring to see how the people took care of each other with dignity and compassion.

Maehongson 02 April 2009

Wednesday 02 April 2009, the third day of the festival called "Hae Krua Lu Day", by all official and unofficial accounts, there was to be the big parade through town as part of the Loi Sang Long ritual. The parade was scheduled to start at 7:00 A. M. so we got up at 5:00 A. M. to get over to the Wat at 6:00 A. M. to catch the preparations.

We arrived at Wat Jong Kum-Jong Klong just before 6:00 A.M. in plenty of time to witness the preparations for the grand procession. The Wat's grounds were filled with family member in their best clothing. Relatives were going to walk in the procession along with the jewelled princes and their porters. As part of the procession today the families were carrying offerings to be made at the Wats.

In general the offerings were carried by the women and young children. The children carried small decorative bowls, flowers, and small decorative objects such as candle holders. The women carried buckets of toiletries, linens, food items, and pillows suspended from a bamboo pole carried between the two women on their shoulders. It seemed a little ironic that this procession was occurring just before Easter. The parade participants were definitely dressed in the Shan equivalent of their Easter suits.


Just as in the previous procession through town this procession was led by the Shan elders and the fancy horse. The shaman type man, dressed in white, carried a fancy offering bowl that was filled with some plants as well as a bottle of drinking water. Today there were two floats that would be hand carried by four men along the route. One float was a model of a Wat. It was very fancy and about 15 feet tall which required a great deal of focus as well as care to carry it beneath some of the utility lines that crossed streets on the parade route. Fortunately there were no incidents during the parade involving this float. The second float was shorter - about 8 feet high. It was also hand carried by four men along the parade route. It was a sort of pyramid shaped object made out of serving trays, bowls and dishes all topped off by a very fancy white lace umbrella.

Today unlike the previous parade there was a musical float - well actually it was a heavy industrial duty flat bed truck decked out with bunting. On top of the flat bed were four women dancers dressed in fancy outfits. The rear of the flat bed also contained the Shan band - four men - a drum player, a gong player, a stringed instrument player, and A LEAF BLOWER. No not a leaf blower machine to clean driveways but an elderly man who had a branch from a tree that he blew on the leaves to make music (more like squawking sounds). This is similar to the Hmong traditional music and communication technique using leaves that I had previously witnessed and wrote about in an earlier blog. Oddly enough the band put out some pretty good music. I am not sure that someone on the old Dick Clark TV show, American Bandstand", would have rated it very high because "It had a good beat and you could dance to it" but the female dancers had not trouble dancing to it.

Some of the relatives marching in today's procession carried long poles with decorations made out of tied handkerchiefs. I suspect that inside the handkerchiefs were some food offerings. Earlier in the trip I had sampled a Shan treat - a ball of popped rice in a caramel type binder. It was very to the Thai Cracker jacks that I watched being made in Isaan last Fall. Just as the treat was in Isaan, this was very tasty.

The parade got off more or less on schedule. We knew the route so we took a short cut and set up on the sidewalk awaiting the procession. As the procession advanced, elderly women would walk up to the various components of the procession and gently toss popped rice on the participants - including the horse. This was a sort of offering and blessings similar to tossing rice on newlyweds in the West.

One component of today's parade was a group of women who performed traditional dances. They were dressed in very pretty traditional Shan clothing. They were very graceful and like other groups in the parade, received popped rice offerings.

The jewelled princes were much more animated today. They bounced, waved fans in dance movements, and in general thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

After the procession passed by we returned to the truck and headed back to the hotel. We had breakfast, I showered, and we set out for the remainder of the day. The afternoon's activities will be in the next blog.

Maehongson 31 March 2009 Afternoon

After returning to the hotel, eating breakfast, and showering, we set off for the remainder of the day. I didn't have a specific itinerary for the day, but I did want to go out to the refugee camp at Baan Nai Soi to photograph "Freida" (Ma Jon) the young Paduang woman that I had met twice before. We also wanted to see how she, her mother and her sister were doing. I had heard and read that there had been an effort to relocate all the Paduang people (long necked women) to a single refugee camp. Prior to setting out we checked but did not double check and then verify that Paduang people remained at the Baan Nai Soi and Ban Huay Sua Tao camps.

We had a map with us and I remembered a great deal of the route from my previous trips to the area. As we approached the area where Baan Nai Soi is located we passed by two large wood barns similar to the tobacco drying barns that I saw as a youth in the Connecticut River Valley. Next to the barns was a field where several Shan people were busy working on stalks of dry garlic. We quickly turned around and returned to the sight to photograph the workers.

The workers were taking stalks of garlic that had been drying in the open field and placing them in bundles that were secured with wraps created out of long thin bamboo strips. The bundles of garlic were then hung over long bamboo poles. The garlic laden bamboo poles were then carried into the barns where they were hung creating a dense matrix of hanging stalks from ceiling to floor.

The Shan people grow garlic on a very large scale. It is rotated with their rice crops during the off growing season. Garlic is eaten raw as well as cooked in Shan cuisine.

We spent about 30 minutes with the workers talking and photographing them at work. They were curious as to where we were from, what we were doing, and where we were going. They were pleased to see pictures of themselves on the monitor of the digital camera. It is amazing how digital cameras have opened up the world. Now it is no problem at all to show people the results of your work. Often showing the people what you are trying to accomplish with your photography, increases their confidence and comfort with your presence. It is a wonderful ice breaker and works with people of all ages.

We found the exit off of the paved road on to the dirt road that leads to the Baan Nai Soi refugee camp without any problem. I remembered the water crossing and since we were in a pickup truck rather than a regular car, there was no difficulty. We continued on the rough, narrow, and dusty dirt road. We came to a steep rise in the road that appeared to have about 12 to 18 inches of talcum powder consistency dust on it. Learning from my previous experiences on Highway 1095 to Maehongson, I downshifted into a lower gear and speeded up to attack the rise. The truck made it about one half way up before bogging down. No problem, I put in the clutch and rolled down the hill to retry. Seeing a couple of motorbikes behind me, I waved them forward before trying to conquer the hill a second time. I dropped the truck into first gear, reved the engine up and let out the clutch. The truck aggressively attacked the hill and made it up 3/4 of the way of the hill before the fish tailing and lack of traction bogged us down. This was now serious! There were two people on a motorbike waiting for us to climb the hill before they descended. This was personal - me against the hill. I backed down the hill and got as far back as I could on what was a straight run before the hill. I put it in first gear, reved up the RPMs, and popped the clutch to build up as much speed as possible prior to climbing the hill. The engine was roaring. The back end was wildly fish tailing side to side but we were making progress. I countered the swerving rear end and kept the RPMs up. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the motorcyclists as we passed them in a huge billowing cloud of tan dust. The people were closing their eyes and covering their mouths as we struggled by - but we made it. Duang and I laughed at how crazy the road was. Later at the hotel, we saw a layer of fine dust covering the back bumper.

Because Duang is a Thai citizen, she did not have to pay the entrance fee into the camp. Despite showing my Thai driver's license, I had to pay 250 baht ($7.15 USD). From the girl at the entrance booth we learned that we had just missed a festival at the camp. The three day festival had ended the day before. As we walked into the camp we were surprised at the state of the camp. Houses that we knew the people who lived in them were gone with only compacted dirt and a few bits of wood remaining. One half of the houses were gone. Very few people were visible. Unlike previous visits to this camp there was no contingent of school girls at the entrance to greet you or seduce into buying postcards, stationary, or other small trinkets. One little girl that we had previously met would also play her guitar and sing. We have seen her in documentaries regarding the Paduang people.

We found several men and women at a long table underneath the canopy of a village hut. They were spending a sunny and hot afternoon drinking coke, beer, as well as whiskey - perhaps leftovers from the festival. These people made no attempt to engage us in any conversation or tried to sell us anything. There was not much available to be bought at the little booths in front of the huts. We continued our walk around and through the village. We found a small hut that was the village health clinic. A young Thai man was in charge of the clinic and from him we learned that about one half of the people had relocated out of the camp. He works in the clinic on a grant from the thai government and also deals with NGOs for the benefit of the camp residents. As he prepared to each his lunch, we walked over to the group of residents that we had seen on our way in.

I asked about "Freida" (Ma Jon) and one of the men told me that she had died. I was shocked and asked when she had died. He said that she had died last year. Somehow I didn't quite believe him and asked him if he was joking. He eventually admitted that she had moved to another camp. She wanted to be located to a foreign country so she had moved from Baan Nai Soi into a closed camp of 20,000 people on the border. Tourists or "travellers" are not allowed access into the camp. Freida's mother and sister had also joined here in the closed camp. It was apparent that there were some issues between this man and Freida. I guess no matter who or where you are, there will always be interpersonal issues. We inquired about the sad elderly widow who had lost her daughter three years ago. The woman had moved away just like the school girl that used to greet people at the gate. It was a depressing place and it appeared that the people themselves were depressed.



We watched two young boys playing beach volleyball in front of the new school office hut. The old school buildings were very ramshackle and I suspect but could not confirm that they had been abandoned. We did find out that some of the children that remained in camp went to class in the new school office hut.



We came upon a young school girl. She reminded me somewhat of Freida. She had a brightness to her eyes and a charming personality that remind me of the waste of so much talent in this world due to economic or political adversity. This 11 year old girl, her 9 year old brother, and her 11 year old friend were manning a small booth. They study English, Thai, Burmese, and their native languages in the village school. They also study geography. I asked about science and she did not know what I was talking about.

We spent about an hour talking with the children before buying a couple of trinkets and setting back to the hotel. The girl asked if Duang could bring her some pants when we return. We plan on returning in September or October and will keep our promise.

We returned to town with both Duang and I thinking that the children's parents had not had their children's best interests in mind when they refused to relocate and elected to remain in this particular camp.

Maehongson - April 1 2009

There were no scheduled public Poi Sang Long events on April 01 that we were aware of. Despite assurances that there was nothing going on, I got Duang up and headed out to the Wats at 6:00 A. M. There was no acrimonious music to be heard - confirming that nothing was going on. Duang took it well but I did hear about a couple times during the day about how I had not listened to her. I told her it was an April Fool's joke to go to the Wat early in the morning and we both ended up laughing.

Duang wanted to see the Monk who lives in a cave so we headed north out of town and back up the long and winding road that goes to Pai (Highway 1095). We had stopped by the cave on our way into Maehongson the previous day but he was not there.

We stopped at the cave and the Monk was there. A young boy from the nearby village was preparing the Monk's food on a burner set directly above a LPG bottle. The food smelled good. We talked to the Monk for a while and received his blessing. I first visited him in October of 2006 and make a point to stop in and see him whenever I am in Maehongson. Today he had another Monk visiting him. While we were there a married couple from the local village arrived and made offering of food to the Monk. After they received their blessing, Duang talked to them and learned that the woman had a small restaurant at the entrance to Fish Cave National Park. From the woman we learned that the Monk's name was "Thom Padang".

When we had stopped at the Monk's cave the day before, I took photographs of the various statues of Buddha outside of the cave. Of the four trips to the cave, this was the only time that the statues were dressed in vestments. Each statue was covered with an orange cape that had fancy bead work on it. I told Duang that I thought that the cape had something to do with the Poi Sang Long Festival. Duang asked the Monk and found out that the sautes were wearing capes because the weather had been cool. After Songkran, 15 April, the Monk was going to remove the capes. Although we had visited the sight two years ago during Songkran, we did not see the statues clothed. Duang told me that she believes that before not too many people visited the Monk so he did not have the money to buy the clothing. Now he is apparently getting more visitors and has the material means to buy clothing for the statues. This would also help to explain why he now has a chain link fence and metal framed chain link door across the entrance to his cave as well other developments such as new tarps lining the inside of the cave. Dressing the statues is not limited to this location. In Bangkok, the King but most recently the Crown Prince change the clothing on the Emerald Buddha at the changing of each season in a very special ceremony. We bid farewell to the Monk and promised to return later in the year. Interestingly yesterday Duang informed me that the Monk had a special request for us. She had told him about why we in Maehongson and that we knew people in the Huay Suay Tao refugee camp. Apparently the Monk also knows Khun Ma Plae and requested a photo of her. Monks are celebrate and are not allowed to be touched by women. Thom Padang's request is interesting and I will be happy to comply. Duang believes that he will send us amulets that will protect us - he is supposedly Number 1 Monk for car accident prevention. With an amulet from him, we will not have an auto accident but if we were to have one - we would not be killed. OK. With the way I have seen so many people drive around here, I am not about to turn my back on any possible assistance to stay safe.

After visiting the Monk, we stopped at Fish Cave to grab a bite to eat at the woman's food stall. There were hardly any people at the park. There is typically 5 to 10 vans of tourists in the parking lot. There was only one other pickup truck besides ours. We ended up spending about 30 minutes sitting and relaxing with the woman and her young son.

We then drove to the Buddhist Meditation Center a little further up the road. We had discovered the retreat on our last trip to Maehongson. It is a very peaceful and relaxing setting with impeccably maintained grounds nestled along a fast flowing stream between a series of craggy hills. People from around the world go to the center to learn or to improve their meditation techniques.

As we pulled off of Highway 1095 to drive along the narrow road to the Center, we came upon four young boys absolutely enjoying themselves at the local swimming hole. A small dam across the stream running parallel to Highway 1095 has developed a small area of deeper water suitable for swimming. After overcoming their initial shock of me stopping the truck in the middle of the road, getting out, and starting to photograph them, the boys put on a show for us. They took turns running across the road and doing somersaults into the water. As I showed them their photographs, their enthusiasm increased proportionally. After demonstrations of their acrobatic prowess, there were a couple of races between the boys. It was entertaining for us to watch the boys enjoying themselves in such a simple and innocent past time.

We eventually arrived at the Mediation Center - we met the Abbott and he invited us to join the students for lunch. We had eaten at Fish Cave so we declined. As Duang paid her respects and made her offering to the Buddha shrine, the Abbott and I started talking. Duang joined us and we ended up talking for an hour prior to his next scheduled class. He was well educated and well travelled. He had travelled several times to the USA to teach meditation.

The Monk gave us his blessing, and gave us some unsolicited marriage counselling - I was to be sure to take good care of Duang as well as listen to her (how did he know about this morning?) and she was to take good care of me as well as to listen to me. As part of our discussions we talked about life in Thailand and in the USA. The subject of recent violence in America came up. I remarked that in general Americans had placed their faith in material things and material institutions. Now that there is a crisis and these items are wiped out or greatly reduced, these people have nothing left to believe in. Their faith and confidence have been greatly affected. For many this has deprived them of a moral or ethical compass to proceed with their life. The results are increased violence and depression - mental as well as monetary.

From the mediation Center we continued on to the end of Highway 1285. End of Highway 1285? On the map it showed that there was a market town of Ban Huai Phueng on the border with Myanmar (Burma). We had never been there before. We had time. We had a truck, so we headed north west. We passed another Army checkpoint without any incident. The Thai Army has many checkpoints in the area in efforts to prevent smuggling of refugees as well as amphetamines into Thailand from Myanmar.

After awhile the excellent two lane paved road narrowed down to a narrow road winding through small settlements. At one point where the road had narrowed to a single lane we came upon two large stacks of dried garlic bundles along side of the road. Two men were walking up a steep hillside to road level with huge piles of garlic suspended on both ends of a long bamboo rod carried over their shoulder. We stopped to photograph the men at their work. They were Shan farm workers paid to harvest the dried garlic from the fields in the land below the road elevation, transport it up the hill and stack it along the side of the road awaiting transport by truck to a large drying barn like we had visited the day before. The men work from 8:00 A.M. to 5:00 A. M. and earn 100 Baht ($3.50 USD) a day. This is back breaking manual work performed in a smoke filled atmosphere for $0.43 an hour. Of course there are no social security benefits, retirement plans, unemployment benefits, life insurance coverage or medical insurance available for these workers.

We spoke with the two workers and learned that they were happy because there was plenty of work available these days. I could not help but think that at $3.50 a day no doubt that there would be plenty of work available!

The men told us about the area up ahead on the road to the border. We set out for the market town but never got there. We got close but not there. When we were about 5 miles from the border we came to a roadblock. The military man was undoubtedly surprised to see a falang driving a truck out in the middle of no where headed for the Burma border. Through Duang I found out that the area was closed beyond the road barrier and that photography was not allowed. He was friendly and pleasant so I informed him through Duang that if photography was not allowed, I didn't want to go there. We all had a laugh. We turned around and returned to the garlic worker's work location.

I parked the truck off of the road and we walked over to better view the work. We climbed down the hill about 200 feet to a narrow bamboo bridge spanning a clear stream. I set up and photographed the men crossing the four bamboo stalk wide bridge with their loads of garlic on their journey to and from the garlic fields to the staging point high above along side the paved road. The land from the road to the stream was filled with long yai fruit trees. The long yai fruit is very tasty and refreshing. The long yai trees are also the favorite habitat of the red ants that the people of Isaan are fond of eating. It turns out that the Shan people also eat the ants and ant eggs.

The workers invited and eventually convinced us to cross the bamboo bridge. We followed the men across the bouncy bridge and joined them on the other side. The other side was a series of dry and harvested rice paddies. On a previous trip in December 2006 to the region, I had photographed local people planting garlic. Crops are rotated in rice paddies to optimize available growing seasons and to assist in improving the poor soil. After harvesting the rice crop in November, the Shan people had planted garlic as a supplemental crop. That crop has completed growing, drying in the field, and is now ready to be harvested in April. After navigating a maze of dikes surrounding the paddies and crossing some paddies we arrived at the work sight. Several men and women were on their knees busy pulling garlic bulbs out of the ground. They were surprised to see us, mostly likely me in particular. I surmise that not to many foreigners make it out to this garlic field.

In no time at all, Duang had charmed them and I had sufficiently amused them so everyone was comfortable as well as relaxed. My previous photographs at the bridge were facing the sun. Now that we were on the other side of the bridge, it was possible to have the sun at my back. I made my way back to the bridge over the flowing waters. Carefully selecting where to place my feet, I was able to make it to a large rock in the middle of the stream - safe, sound, and dry. I did have to share my perch in the stream with many small butterflies as well as many flying insects. The flying insects were annoying but apparently not health endangering.

I spent a good amount of time in the stream taking photographs of the men transporting the garlic across the bridge. I went back to the harvesting site to see that Duang had joined the team in harvesting the garlic. Since I was wearing my pakama on my head like Lao Loum men in Isaan, the Shan people decided that I needed to try my hand at harvesting garlic. After an initial failure in harvesting grass rather than garlic which created a great deal of laughing, I was able to make some progress harvesting the garlic. It was back breaking work. I joked that with the way I worked, I would make about 5 baht a day. The Shan people were not done with me yet. I had harvested a good handful of dry garlic on their stalks but not enough to create one of the many bundles required to be placed on the bamboo poles to be hauled up the hill. My picking partner gave me her garlic. A man came along and tied the stalks together with one of the many strips of bamboo that he had on his back. One of the porters that we had spoken to earlier came up to me with his loaded bamboo rod. My new bundle was added to the load and the bamboo pole with garlic bundles was placed over my shoulder. The bamboo rod is about 4 to 5 inches in diameter and about 6 feet long. Each end of the rod is loaded with approximately 25 pounds of garlic. It was definitely a load. I may have been able to make it to the bridge but there was no way I could have climbed the four bamboo rungs to get up on to the bridge. On a very very good day, if some how I had managed to get across the bridge with the garlic, I possibly and just maybe may I would be able to get the garlic up the 200 foot high 35 degree slope to the paved road. To do this for eight hours a day - no way! To do it for $3.50 a day and not complain - as they said in the 1939 classic film -"Gunga Din" based on the Rudyard Kipling poem - " You are a better man than I am, Gunga Din" The Shan farm workers have my admiration and respect. Once again the reality of the world collides with our past experiences and perceptions - another reason why I enjoy living in S.E. Asia learning and experiencing life from a different perspective.

We returned to the hotel around 5:00 P. M. exhausted, satisfied, and content with the day's activities as well the insights into other people's lives that we had witnessed.

Poi Sang Long Ritual - Day 2

Tuesday, 31 March, according to the Abbott of Wat Kum Klang, the "official" printed festival brochure, as well as several local people, was the morning when the young boys would be dressed up in their finery and made up to be paraded through Maehongson. After yesterday's serendipitous discovery of the head shaving ceremony, we were determined to check, double check as well as to verify exactly what event was scheduled as well as its starting time.

We got up at 4:00 A. M. so that we would be at the Wat for 5:00 A. M. As we approached the Wat on foot from our parking space across the lake, we heard the continued acrimonious clanging, banging and beat of the previous day's music. We learned that as long as this music was going on, something was happening.


We arrived just about the right time at the Wat. The bot was filled with family members attending to their young boy. This morning the "Sang Long" (jewelled sons) were being dressed up in fine silks, brocades, jewelery, and complicated millinery. Their mothers, sisters, and aunts applied makeup to the boy's face that would be the envy of any Bangkok or Pattaya Kathoey (Lady Boy). In fact I suspect that many American women would love to be made up and look as elegant as these young boys do. Each family set up their spot on the floor in the bot. A few foreigners freely mingled amongst the Shan people photographing and filming the Shan tradition. Outsiders were very welcomed by the families and the atmosphere was free and relaxed.

The boys were being made up to resemble Princes. When the dressing and makeup had been completed the boys looked like they were little Maharajahs out of some Rudyard Kipling story. This was not a Halloween masquerade type skit but a financially taxing attempt to emulate royalty. Some of the clothing cost upwards to 10,000 baht ($286 USD). We were told by one family that they had gotten the cloth for their son's outfit from Cambodia. The clothing was colorful, intricate, and very fancy. Dressing up your son for his ordination is very analogous to the tradition and social pressures in the USA for having your daughter get married. To suitably impress the relatives, neighbors, and friends, families take on a large financial burden. Almost $300 for a child's outfit even in the Western World is not a trifle amount. Here in Thailand the average farm worker makes 100 baht ($3.50) a day. A can of Coke or Pepsi costs 15 baht so although I often write about how cheap things are here in Thailand, I am using an American perspective. At 100 baht a day, the average Thai farm worker is not going to be buying too many cans of soda or saving very much money in a month. To stage this family celebration many families pool resources and many end up borrowing money to finance the spectacle. We met and spoke with some young boys who had not been through the Poi Sang Long ceremony because their family could not afford the expense. Peer pressure is very strong for every family to somehow and someway to come up with the money to participate in the tradition.

The fathers focused their efforts on dressing their son in all the various articles of clothing. The proud fathers also gave their sons words of comfort and guidance. Other male members of the family sat next to the young boy. In many places, hired men also sat next to the jewelled princes. Once the boy has had his head shaved, his feet no longer touch the ground. The jewelled prince is carried upon the shoulders of his father, grandfather, uncles, and older brothers. To supplement the contingent of male relatives, some families hire men to carry their son on top of their shoulders during the rituals and parades. In many cases the porters for a particular boy are smartly dressed in pastel tailored traditional Shan outfits. Several men are required to carry the boy along the parade route. As a man becomes tired, the boy is transferred to a fresh man for his turn to carry the jewelled prince. Some of the porters with a great deal of energy from the clanging and banging music or perhaps the whiskey that you could smell on their breadth, danced enthusiastically with the boy on their shoulders. A couple of the porters appeared to have a de facto contest as to which one of them could get their prince lowest and most parallel to the ground without dropping him. I suspect that these were professional porters and not some one's crazy uncle or older brother. The fact that no princes were dropped also leads me to believe that professionals were at work. The mothers completed the outfitting of their princes by placing their gold chains around their necks and placing gold rings on their fingers. It was interesting to watch combinations of tape and yarn being utilized to ensure that the family jewels stayed on the boys small fingers.

After all 40 boys had been prepared, they ate a small breakfast of fried rice and plain water. They were carried outside to be organized into parade formation. Outside family members congregated awaiting the start of the early dawn parade. A small Asian breed of horse was waiting outside to lead the parade. The horse was immaculately groomed - to the extent that its mane had been cropped where a large garland of flowers had been carefully placed around its neck. Two men wearing traditional Shan clothing tended and led the horse. Another man who appeared to be some type of shaman led the parade along side of the horse. He was dressed in white pants and tunic with his head covered in a white turban. He carried a ceremonial offering bowl.

The boys were carried on the shoulder of a man and was surrounded by men in waiting - waiting to have their turn at carrying the boy on their shoulders. Each boy is also shielded by a large ornate golden umbrella attached at the end of a long wood pole carried by a man walking to the side of the elevated boy. The umbrellas were very ornate and decorated with flowers, garlands, and intricate decorations. The umbrellas are also heavy and unwieldy
, so just as in the case of the boy, men take their turn in carrying the umbrella and ensuring that it shelters the specific boy.

Some families also hire "professional" musicians to bang gongs, clang cymbals, and play the unusual drum in the same style as we had been hearing since arriving in Maehongson. Some of the "bands" had long mechanical racks that played several cymbals at the same time. Two men carried the rack and a third man "played" the cymbals by moving a lever back and forth. The din of the amateur musicians along with the professionals created quite an atmosphere.

The parade left the Wat complex at sunrise and headed through downtown Maehongson. The entourage stopped at a local temple in the center of town. The purpose of the stop was for the boys to let the spirits know that they were becoming Monks and to ensure that the boys had been forgiven. The parade then moved through the airport on the edge of town to visit a Buddhist temple. At this location the boys requested forgiveness from the Abbott. It was at this point that we decided to move on to our hotel to shower and have our breakfast. It had already been a long and tiring morning even though it was 8:00 A.M.

Poi Sang Long Ritual - Day One

We arrived in Maehongson around 1:00 P.M on Monday 30 March. Upon checking in at the hotel we obtained a printed brochure regarding the schedule of activities for the four day festival. According to the hotel clerk and the recently printed brochure, there were no activities until the next morning. After the boys were to have their heads shaved at their homes they were scheduled to get dressed up in their finery at the Wat followed by a parade through the town.

Since we had not had lunch, we drove into town to eat and check on another source of information for the festival. We went to a restaurant noted for its tour services as well as its food across the lake from the Wats. This being Thailand, things are not always as they are initially described or scheduled. This is why I now make it a habit to double and triple check things - just to be sure or often - to get it right. So it was regarding the festival - the boys were scheduled to have their hair cut followed by having their head being shaved at the Wat at 2:00 P.M.!

We lingered over our lunch and soft drinks before walking over to the Wats on the other side of the lake. Lake is a rather generous term for the body of water in the middle of town. It is about 200 meters in diameter. The air around the Wats was filled with the sound of clanging cymbals and drum beats. It was obvious that something was going on or would be going on - eventually. The cymbals were banged in a staccato three beat grouping. The drumming was not in any noticeable rhythm that I could detect.

A stage had been built in front of the Wat on the temple grounds. Some people were occupied placing colored bunting on the stage. A canopy had been set up underneath one of the large trees on the temple grounds. Underneath the canopy, several young Monks, around 16 years old, were busy banging gongs and clanging cymbals. These young Monks would later take part in the hair cutting and head shaving ritual of the young Shan boys who would be ordained as Monks this year. They are following Buddha's son, Prince Rahula's path in becoming Monks at an early age. Removal of their hair symbolizes renouncing worldly possessions and goods - in old days long hair was symbolic of royalty.

An older man was busy walking around and dancing as he exuberantly played a drum. Some of his enthusiasm apparently came from alcohol as well as religious zeal. The drum was very unique instrument. It was about 6 feet long with an approximately 30 inches diameter drum head. There was a resonating chamber at the other end of the drum tube. The drum was suspended from the player's shoulder by a long saffron strap. The sound produced from tapping on the drum head with fingers was very similar to a bongo drum but a little more bass.

Other men as well as an elderly Monk were busy producing bamboo strips and weaving them into lattice works. The lattice works were later used to decorate some floats for the parade. The men and Monk took split pieces of bamboo and used a long knife to split narrow strips off of the bamboo. The tile floor of the canopy was covered with shavings and strips. The people used their bare feet to hold the lattice in place as they used their hands to weave additional strips into place. As they worked the clash, clang, and pounding of the music continued unabatted only being interrupted in sporadic interludes of increased frenzy. There were times that I got the impression that it was a sort of jam session but with only cymbals, gongs, and a single drum the range for creativity was quite restrictive.

Around 2:00 P. M. nothing different happened. We asked around and were told that it would be at 2:30 P. M. As 2:30 P. M. approached the music continued. The men continued their activities. Nothing else was started. We were told that the ceremony would actually start at 4:00 P. M. A little before 4:00, some of the younger Monks arranged forty plastic chairs into a large u shape in front of the Wat. This was a hopeful sign but also a sign that nothing was going to happen at 4:00 P.M. Around 4:15 P.M., the Head Monk, the Abbot, came out and seemed to take charge of the preparations. This was a very very good sign. At the same time, pickup trucks started to arrive with young boys, family members, and more cymbal, gong, and drum players. The volume and intensity of the music increased greatly. There was definitely an air of excitement and anticipation throughout the area.

At 4:30 the ceremony actually got started. A young boy was seated in each of the plastic chairs - 40 boys in all. Each boy was surrounded by his family. After a little speech from the Abbott and a blessing, the ceremony started. The first part of the ceremony was cutting the boy's hair.

The boys wearing their colorful super hero or cartoon tee shirts and short pants sat rigidly in their chair. These boys were about to take a very important step in their religious and temporal life. They were now the center of attention and the representatives of their family. Although these boys were seven to fourteen years old, it was obvious that they were trying their best to bring honor to their family. It was also entertaining to see some moments when the boys were busy being boys such as sharing their hair clippings with their friend, or grimacing at the irritation from their shorn locks.

The boys sat with a large lotus leaf in their lap. Using regular scissors, relatives take turns snipping off locks of hair and placing them into the lotus leave. It is considered an honor to cut the hair and the relative order in which a person cuts the hair is indicative of the respect as well as esteem that is held by the family for the participant.

The Abbot patiently made his rounds ensuring that he cut some hair from each of the young boys. Many people were mingled amongst the family members photographing or filming the ritual. I was a little surprised how few foreigners there were at the event. I estimate that there were no more than 25 foreigners. The impact of the world economy on Thailand's tourism industry was very apparent on this trip. The local Shan people were very accepting and gracious at the outsiders photographing and filming their special event. As is the case at all of these religious events, people's manners are very good.

After family and friends had their opportunity to cut some hair, it was time to shave the boy's head. Prior to shaving the boy's head, family members usually a mother of grandmother poured water on to the boy's head. Some waters were scented with flowers or perfume. There was no shaving creme, gel, or foam in sight. A couple boys had some soap rubbed into their hair. It was during the head shaving portion of the ritual that the demeanor of the boys changed. It could almost see in their face a look of seriousness and in some cases trepidation. These feelings were visibly mitigated by the close and tender attention given to the boys by their family and the Monks. It was a special ceremony that reinforced family, religious, and community ties.

The shaving of the heads was a time consuming effort shared by men, women, and Monks. Just as in the case of the hair cutting, the Abbot made his way along the lined up chairs to shave a little of each of the forty young heads. The other Monks of the Wats joined in to help shave the heads. It appeared that the Monks shaved about one-half of each head with the remainder done by family members.

After their head had been completely shaved, inspected and accepted the boys were washed off with buckets and bowls of scented and unscented water. Many boys had a pomade of powder and water applied to their newly bald heads. The boys retired to the inner areas of the temple complex to spend the night and await the next step in their ordination the following morning. Snippets of hair and shavings were gathered up and removed by some younger Monks.

The forty boys, soon to be Monks, had completed the first step in demonstrating their renunciation of their worldly possessions by having their heads shaved. They had started their individual journey in following Prince Rahula's footsteps.