Give Us Our Daily ...

Your last meal most likely involved no more effort than opening your refrigerator or cupboard, gathering the necessary ingredients, and cooking in the microwave, in the oven, or on the stove top. Perhaps you were fortunate and you went out to eat, out to eat at a fast food outlet, nice restaurant, or a friend's house. Like me, I am certain that your only concerns were what you were going to eat and there were no thoughts as to whether you would eat or not - just like we are all certain that we will have dinner tomorrow, next week, and any and everyday in the future.

The luxury of not worrying about availability of food is not shared by everyone in this world. It is not shared by all the people of Isaan, in particular this elderly woman outside Kumphawapi amongst the rice paddies northeast of town.

After our adventures at the sugar refinery south of Kumphawapi, I stomped the red dust from my running shoes and cleared my head of the smells of the area to head out to visit Duang's daughter. The air around the sugar refinery was filled with a fusion of the sweet scent of fermenting sugar and the stench of sugar fermentation gone bad (terribly bad) - very similar to smelly - very smelly feet.

We drove through town and saw the local monkeys returning from their wanderings about town to their homes in the local park. Some monkeys take the high road - traversing the town along the elevated electrical and telephone wires. I have gotten accustomed to driving through town and seeing a monkey suspended above the middle of the road on a wire.

Other monkeys stick to the low road - scampering along the roads and sidewalks back to the park. Often their journey takes them across the path of vagrant dogs but I have yet to see a dog versus monkey battle. I suspect that the dogs, or the ones that are still around, have learned not to mess with a monkey. Monkeys are mean little buggers!

A third group of monkeys, small juveniles were in the middle of transitioning from the low road to the high road. An adult monkey, I don't know if it was a male or female - I didn't think it was polite to stare especially as I was driving and I didn't want any locals to see me checking them out, was on a high wire about 10 feet from a concrete utility pole. The adult had stopped and was looking back at the pole where several juveniles were climbing the pole and get to the point where they would go out on the wire. I got the distinct impression that the adult was supervising and teaching the younger monkeys. Lesson #1 - DO NOT TOUCH TWO WIRES AT THE SAME TIME. Lesson #2 - DO NOT TOUCH TWO WIRES AT THE SAME TIME.

My body hair is called "koh ling" - Monkey hair in the Isaan dialect. Duang says that the local monkeys are my brothers but she stops joking when I stare at them and start talking to them. I have had a confrontation with one that was stealing groceries out of the back of our pickup truck in town. Neither one of us was backing down. When I was giving the monkey hell for taking stuff, the monkey dropped the bag of potato chips and gave me the "dumb*ss" look as much to say "What? Me? What are you talking about? I didn't do anything!". Our standoff was only resolved when Duang came to the monkey's aid and chased it off with a broom that she had grabbed from the nearby motorcycle shop.

We manged to clear the monkey migration with causing any damage or getting damaged and hit the country road out amongst the rice paddies. The time was approaching early evening so the light was great for photography - a time commonly referred to as the "Golden Hour". It is also a time when the workers are headed back to their homes by all kinds of transport with each mode of transportation seemingly slower than the other. If there were more vehicles it might be referred to as "Rush Hour" but no one really rushes.

I have become accustomed to sharing the road with all kinds of vehicles - great and small as well as all kinds of animals. The elephants are well behaved and always stick to their edge of the road but you don't see them very often. The cattle are not adept at sharing the road, often they just mosey on up the middle of the lane or completely across the entire road. Since this is a poor region, the cattle herds are never large - usually 10 to 15 head maximum. The water buffalo are like defecating armored vehicles - a metallic gun metal grey of rippling muscles. Fortunately their herds are even smaller than the cattle. Often the cattle or water buffaloes walk along trailing an approximate 12 foot length of rope from their nose. It makes for quite a sight.

Dogs like to sleep on the road. They appear to have the knack for getting out of the way - even if it is just in time. I have seen only two dead dogs on the road in a year. In Brasil I would see a new dead dog along the main highway every other day. New? Yes in addition to the previous dead dogs. The dead dogs in the middle of the road lanes did not remain recognizable for more than a day or two. However the dead dogs in the median were a study in the progressive decay of organic matter. I observed one for over two weeks - truly disgusting.

Hens, roosters, and chicks as well as ducks coexist with both the dogs as well as cars on the road. They seem to be a problem but always get out of the way with plenty of time.

I have even gotten use to the other vehicles on the road. I do not get upset, excited, or concerned about the numerous motorbikes driving the wrong way on the road - they usually stay in the breakdown lane. I am even used to cars approaching head on as they pass one, two, three or sometimes four slow vehicles travelling in the opposite direction. I have grown to expect the unexpected when I drive - I am seldom disappointed.

As bad as it may seem, it works out - most of the time. In Brasil we used to say there were no laws or rules concerning driving. Knowing that you didn't take things for granted - you were not relying on the other guy to be following the "law". Everyone followed the same lack of laws so there was a consistency that prevented accidents. In three years in Brasil, I saw about 8 car accidents.

In Thailand the people share the road more willingly. They are not as territorial as Americans. They realize and are convinced that with every one's cooperation three cars and perhaps three cars and a motorbike can share two lanes of the road. Everyone gives a little and down the road they may take a little and it all works out - especially for cars and trucks. If there were more westerns here driving the roads with the "This is my lane and I am keeping it" mentality there would undoubtedly be many more accidents here. Motorbike accidents are a problem - I believe it is because everyone expects them to give a whole lot more than other vehicles.

Anyhow we got to Duang's daughters home - actually her mother-in-law's home where she lives with her father-in-law, grandparents-in-law, one or two aunts and uncles that always seem to be around a little two year old niece.

As everyone was catching up on local and family gossip, often one and the same, I noticed a solitary woman walking and working in the dry rice paddy across the dirt road from the house. She was dressed in typical Isaan or Lao Loum clothing and seemed an interesting photographic study. Duang said that she was gathering "hoy" snails to eat. I left the group and got my camera out of the truck. I crossed the road and walked over to her.

The woman was carrying a black plastic bucket, a plastic shopping bag filled with "greens" which looked more like weeds to me, and a five foot long wood pole with a small scoop on the end. She had gathered the greens from the paddy and along the roadside. I am certain that these plants similar to the plants that Duang eats are part of her diet.

It has not rained here since the end of October so the land in most places are very dry. The farmers have started to drain mud puddles to flood their fields for the new rice crop. This is nothing new and Al Gore need not concern himself on this issue, at this time, and at this point in time. The monsoons will return as they always do and everything will be flooded - once again. However the harvested rice paddies are dry as a bone and appear to be barren except for the stubble and weeds remaining from the harvest. As I walked the paddy in and amongst the deposits from free range cattle, I saw many mounds of dried mud.

These mounds were spiral cones of dried light colored clay fines with a small hole in the center - it reminded me of an upside down pastry coronet. The elderly woman would walk around and find one of these. She would stop and use the pole tool to dig the area beneath the coronet. After digging down about 18 to 24 inches she got on her hands and knees to finish the excavation with her hands. Many times she found nothing in the dry hole. But sometimes she found what she was after - "bpoo" (crab).

I know that they were crabs because she showed them to me as she pulled them out of the parched ground. She also showed me the very lively 12 crabs that she had in her bucket. Somethings I can not explain. I only report and write about what I have seen. Fortunately I have not seen or thought that I have seen any Phii (ghosts) so I do not have to defend my credibility on that issue - yet. However I can not explain how or why there are what looks like small saltwater crabs that I used to catch at the local beach back in Connecticut here in Isaan - 350 to 400 miles from the sea!!. I can not explain how these crabs can be pulled out of a 1.5 to 2 foot deep hole in completely dry dirt where it has not rained in 3 months. The rice paddy has been dry for at least a month. All I know is what I saw.

Lao people are very fond of a green papya salad called "Pauk Pauk". A component of Pauk Pauk is a couple of whole small cooked crabs - small as in about 2 inches across. These whole crabs, shell and all, are tossed in and pounded with a mortar and pestle along with the other ingredients. I was first introduced to this dish in Pattaya which is on the ocean and assumed that the crabs were saltwater crabs. I have seen the crabs in the local market and assumed that the crabs like the squid had been shipped up from the coast. Now I am wondering if the crabs were freshwater crabs all along. If I see or believe I see squid being caught in the local lakes and rivers I am going to be in need of some very serious professional health!

I talked a little with the woman but she didn't say much. It may or may not have been my command of the Thai language but a definite contributing factor to her silence was the fact that her mouth was filled with the various accoutrements for betel nut chewing. One time when she smiled, I got a view - I sight that I would have preferred not to have seen!

I returned to the group and got some further information from Duang about the elderly woman. She is a poor woman who wanders the roads and paddies each day gathering her food. She does not own the land that she scavenges. No body complains that she is digging on their land to harvest "their" crabs. I told Duang that in America you can not go on to other people's property to gather food without them complaining or perhaps calling the police.

Apparently here in Isaan, Lao Loum people do not want to deny anyone their daily bread even if it happens to be greens and crabs off of their own land.

Trucking, Keeping on Trucking

Yesterday, Friday 30 January 2009 was another great day here in Isaan. Although we had not planned anything special for the day, the day became memorable for several reasons.

After we did our grocery shopping, we drove out to Tahsang Village to visit family and to deliver the "Kwan" DVD. As we arrived at the village, Kwan was outside as usual with her grandmother and two other relatives. We had gotten there in time for her bath. Her grandfather brought out a black plastic tub of water that had been left out into the sun to warm and placed it on the wooden platform that serves as Kwan's playpen as well as community center. Kwan thoroughly enjoyed her short bath.

Kwan's bath and our visit brought out many villagers. Duang had purchased some fast food in Kumphawapi so in no time at all there were 5 other people sitting around eating and socializing. "Fast food" in Kumphawapi is food such as chicken noodle soup, fried rice, and such that is for sale from a "restaurant" on the sidewalk. The food is very good and very cheap. It is take -away food - take away in small plastic bags.

After everyone had finished eating, including Kwan, we viewed the DVD at Duang's parents house. Kwan's reaction made the entire effort well worth while. She recognized herself and went crazy over the music. She sat cross legged on the tile floor and danced by bouncing up and down in sync with the music - one English song and two Lao songs. At one point she stood up on her own without any additional support and squatted up and down three times to the beat before a big squat on her bottom to the floor. She is just learning to stand and is apparently ready for a quantum leap to dancing.

Duang's sixteen year old cousin who is a local dancing machine dropped by just as the big local song was playing. The song is about eating snails "Hoy" but "Hoy" is also a term to refer to part of the female anatomy (kind of like oyster or clam in English). Isaan entertainment tends to be rather bawdy and the popularity of this song is a testament to the fact. The song is kind of like "Louie Louie" - when it is played the party really begins!

Anyhow, I put on my ski toque from my last trip to Yellowsone in January 2006 and showed Duang's cousin some of my latest Isaan dance moves - bouncing up and down while alternating rapid stomps with each leg. The knitted hat is part of the Isaan dress code for men and women in Isaan and the dance moves are what the young people do to hard driving songs such as "Hee Hoy". We all had a good laugh especially when we noticed Kwan sitting on the floor moving her legs in imitation.

After our visit, we headed back to Kumphawapi to visit Duang's daughter. As we drove along the heavily rutted roads, we passed many heavily laden trucks hauling harvested sugar cane to the local sugar refinery on the edge of Kumphawapi. Somewhat similar to the "Good Ol Boys" of the USA with their gun racks in their pickup trucks, I typically carry my backpack of camera gear on our forays out into the countryside. Yesterday was no exception.

I pulled into the large flat staging area just outside of the refinery. The large field was about 50% filled with trucks loaded with sugar cane. Along the edge of the road headed into Kumphawapi, people had set up booths selling fruit, drinks, and prepared food to the truckers.

I have written before about the sugar cane harvest and the trucks clogging up as well as destroying the local roads. This blog has a picture of a typical rig. When the trucks arrive at the staging area of the refinery, they log in and wait their turn to enter and discharge their cargo. I had seen this before in Brasil in conjunction with the soybean harvest and shipping port of Paranagua. During the height of the soybean harvest, on a trip to the port, I saw 22 km (12 miles) of loaded trucks parked bumper to bumper alongside the road from the port, through town and up into the mountains awaiting their turn to be offloaded. I was told that the drivers had to wait up to 5 days for their turn. It is the same here at the staging yard - sit and wait. The men sleep in their trucks just like in Brasil.

The staging yard for the sugar cane trucks was covered in about 5 cm (2 inches) of an extremely fine iron rust red powder. The main path through the yard had been watered down in a vain attempt at dust control. Near the guardhouse/tally office of the yard, some truckers were sitting around drinking - soft drinks, and tea.

I ended up going over to photograph them and talk to them - mostly through Duang. They were very friendly - most likely happy for someone new to talk to. I suspect that had already heard each other's stories several times. I found out later from Duang that they had been waiting three days. They wanted her to talk to me about me buying the refinery. They had been waiting three days because the refinery is owned and managed by Chinese people. We had Chinese new Year at the beginning of the week so the refinery had not been functioning well. They believe that falang owner would do a better job.

I took photos of them relaxing and joking. One man wanted to be sure that I got his photo with his mustache - or rather his Isaan facsimile of a mustache. Lao Loum men are not very hairy. His mustache was a few straggly wisps of hair sort of like Genghis Khan. Earlier he had touched my hairy arms. I tried to get 5 baht from him for the privilege but he knew I was only joking. I do that all the time now - no point in getting upset over invasion of my space or privacy - they mean no harm. When people come up and touch the hair on my arms I ask for 5 baht and then tell them that touching the hair on other places of my body will cost them more. Since I have a smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye, they quickly realize that I am only joking. From that point I get to take their photographs with them thoroughly relaxed.

I got even with Mr Mustache yesterday. After he ran his fingers over the few hairs to straighten it out, I set up to take the shot, stopped looked at my camera, looked at the front of the lens, walked up to within 12 inches of him and squinted at his mustache - his buddies went crazy laughing! He laughed too.

The men said that the harvest will last two more months. I asked if they were going to fix the roads when they were done. I mentioned that the local politician said the road would be fixed in four months. One of the drivers told me that I could go report bad roads to the police.

I told him my limited Thai that I didn't like the police - police see me and they want 200 Baht (typical fine for any number of driving offenses - real or imagined). I told them that police like to drink beer. When they drink beer each time they drink a new bottle they say "Thank you foreigner". The truckers roared. They enjoyed the joke completely.

It was time for us to move on. We had miles, I mean kilometers to go, before we sleep. The truckers invited us back.

We went on to visit Duang's daughter and another surprise - a woman was in the rice paddy looking for ... the subject of the next blog

Kwan

Today, I spent part of my day, fulfilling a family request and promise. I was asked by Duang's Aunt to make a "movie" of her granddaughter, "Kwan". I promised awhile ago that I would do it but did not get around to it until today.

Kwan is 12 months old and lives in the house next door to Duang's parents in Tahsang Village. I have written about her before, referring to her as "Duang's Cousin's Baby".

I have been photographing Kwan fairly steadily since April when she was four months old. She is one of my favorite models and always a sure bet to spend some good time with.

Kwan has lived a short life unlike many if not all babies in the USA. She was born in the local community hospital in Kumphawapi. She left the hospital to live with her grandparents, and parents along with several chickens, two dogs and 3 water buffaloes in Tahsang Village.

Kwan's grandfather is a subsistence farmer who also raises the water buffaloes to supplement the family income. Her mother is partially paralyzed on her left side. She suffers from seizures and I suspect that she has epilepsy. I have not witnessed any seizures but Duang has described them to me and they seem to be grand mal seizures. She has medicine to prevent the seizures but sometimes does not have money or desire to take the medicine.

It always amazes me to know people who have chronic medical conditions and choose to not take their medication. Sometimes people are ashamed to have to take medicine everyday for the rest of their life. In other cases the medicine makes people feel better so they convince themselves that they no longer need to take the medication. These self delusions embark the person on a roller coaster ride of health and debilitation. So it is with Duang's cousin.

Kwan was breast fed like the vast majority of Isaan babies.

Kwan, like all babies spent most of her time sleeping. She slept in small wooden cradle suspended from an overhead wooden frame. During the day she slept outside on the elevated wooden platform in front of her house under the watchful eye of her mother, grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors and the two male lost souls who wander around the village.

I suspect that after a visit to Isaan, if she ever made one, Hillary Clinton came up with her book title "It Takes A Village to raise A Child". I won't debate or argue whether or not raising a child requires a village. I will attest to the fact that in Tahsang, the village does raise Kwan.

As a baby I never saw Kwan alone or unattended. She was always being held by someone or in her cradle surrounded by caring people. In Thailand, people are very free in letting other people hold their babies. A have gotten to hold many babies of strangers that we happened to come upon on the streets or in the stores. I even was offered to hold new borns in the Maternity Ward of the hospital.

Kwan has never worn a modern diaper. Pampers and their Thai equivalents are too expensive for the farmers of Isaan. As a baby, Kwan would have a thin small towel between her legs to capture waste. As she got older, she graduated to wearing cotton shorts without underwear - this always made holding her to be like a game of Russian roulette. On several occasions she wet on me. I have been fortunate so far unlike Duang and have not gotten anything worse than a little "water" on me. When nature and Kwan did their business, the grandmother would take the baby remove the soiled clothing, carry the baby to one of the large ceramic urns that captured rain water off of the house roof, clean the baby's bottom, put a new towel or clean shorts on, and returned Kwan to someones willing lap. I was always more willing to hold her shortly after a mop up operation believing that the chances of getting messed on to be much lower.

Kwan has always had a great deal of personal attention. As she got older she graduated to a hammock suspended from two supporting columns of the thatched roof platform outside of the house. Someone was always taking their turn keeping the hammock swinging. Neighborhood children always stopped by to watch and talk to the baby. Mothers with their babies always stopped by to socialize.

Kwan's first solid food was rice - no real surprise there. The rice would be mixed with boxed milk into a loose puree to feed the baby. Baby foods are not widely used in Isaan villages. Babies become weaned and move on to food off the plates and out of the bowls of the adults.

Unlike American babies, Kwan's world is bereft of toys and other objects that we consider essential for intellectual development. When she was in her cradle and hammock, there was a string across the width with a couple pieces of ribbon hanging down. Kwan does have a great deal of hands on intellectual stimulation - people play with her constantly, Lao music is often playing throughout the village, children come and sing to her and talk to her, chickens and dogs are constantly wandering around making noise. Duang, Duang's son, and I always made sure to carry Kwan to Duang's mother's market to look at the Disney character decals on the window. She loved them!

Duang and I have given Kwan a couple stuffed toys to play with. Now that she is a year old she has many more things to play with - empty plastic bottles, plastic jars, plastic lids, newspapers, calendars, pieces of cloth, and anything else that she can get her hands on.

Now that I am using a flash to photograph her - she gets quite entertained. The flash of light gets her all excited and she breaks our into laughter and looks eagerly for the next flash.

In this photo she is quite happy drinking sweet fermented milk - it really does taste good! On this day, a week ago, she realized ow entertaining she could be by laughing. For some reason when she laughed or wanted to show how happy she was, she would throw her head back and laugh. That only encouraged us to laugh which encouraged her to laugh. She is starting to try to talk so she is making some pretty entertaining noises. In truth, Kwan and I are in a fierce competition to learn to speak Thai. At the moment I have a slight lead on her!

Well I made the promised movie today. I used Microsoft Picture Story 3 to combine still photos and music into a Ken Burns type montage. I ended up with three songs - one English and two Lao and many photographs for a 14 minute DVD production. Word has already been sent to Tahsang Village so I expect that we will deliver it tomorrow.

Something Walks Amongst Us

On my last trip to Duang's home village, Tahsang Village, on January 2oth, I took some pictures of the younger and older villagers. As we stopped by her cousin's restaurant, I noticed and photographed a talisman hung on a pole at the entrance into the restaurant.

Many times in my life I have said or done things that at the time did not make much sense - haven't we all at some time. However, shortly after I had said or done that were seemingly illogical, events justified my actions and I as well as others have wondered how or if I knew all along.

So it seems with my decision a week ago to photograph the Tahsang Village Talisman.

I have written about the superstitions of the Lao Loum people before and of their methods for dealing with the spirit world.

Baii Sii rituals are conducted to bind the good spirits within a person's body to prevent illness and bring good luck. I attended a special Baii Sii ritual to expel an evil spirit that had taken possession of a young woman. I believe that the ritual was quite successful - at its conclusion people gave her money - her fortune had obviously improved.

Talismen are prominently displayed at the gates of people's property. The spirits, also called ghosts ("Phii" in Thai) are afraid of the stuffed talismen and will not cross their path. The Isaan villages are populated by many gate guardians.

More affluent Isaan households such as households with a falang (foreign) husband, and Thai businesses utilize spirit houses in defense and protection of the property or household. I wrote about Spirit Houses in September of last year. Offerings of food, flowers, beverages, and incense are made at the Spirit Houses to ensure protection of the property and home.

Thai people, especially Thai women, are obsessed with Thailand's answer to American soap operas. Thai television is dominated by productions that are like American soap operas except that the Thai versions run three nights a week for no more than 3 or 4 weeks. Upon conclusion of each series, a new one starts. A vast majority of the Thai series deal with two issues - gangsters and Phii. Some series deal with both at the same time.

Phii or ghosts are portrayed as zombie like people. You know that they are Phii because they have black heavy eye makeup that outlines their eyes and runs down their cheeks - more like a KISS band member than Tammy Faye Baker. Another sure tip off that someone is a Phii or ghost is that they have light coming out of their eyes. Often these lights are quite powerful and laser like. The light beams can disarm people such as young thug gangsters. The light beams can also make beautiful women pass out - a possible photon ruffinol (date rape drug). Most of the Phii are evil and cause a lot of trouble and problems.

Tonight Duang came back from Tahsang Village after tending to family business. The big news from Tahsang Village is that Phii are walking about the village at night and in the early morning. The people are all very concerned and frightened. She was advised by her relatives to get out of the village before it got too dark.

Villagers have seen lights in the sky. They are not apparently concerned about aliens, UFOs, or even alien abductions. They are convinced that the cause of these lights are Phii. It interests me how man is quick and so adept at explaining unknown events or occurrences within their cultural comfort zone.

The incidents started last night. One of her cousins, who is 23 years old, had left his house early in the morning to go to going fishing and collect snails for the family's upcoming breakfast. No need for cereal - we have snails. Because it was still dark, he was wearing a flashlight on his head. He came upon some people also walking towards the water who did not live in the village. He asked them where they were going and they didn't answer him. He repeated it a couple times and they continued to ignore him.

He walked over to where they were and shined his light on them. The mysterious people noticed that he had a light. When his light shined on them, they grimaced and had blood coming out of their eyes and mouth - JUST LIKE ON TV! Phii!

Terrified Duang's cousin raced home exhausted with his heart pounding. He told his mother of what happened and she performed a Baii Saii ritual to protect him. Her cousin saw the Phii again - this time they were walking near the school.

Since there were no fish or snails available for breakfast, he decided to go to the next village to get some "Noo" ("Rats"). Great - another Isaan delicacy that I have to watch out for - though I believe that I am more likely to eat a nicely barbecued rat than fish with ants or ant eggs. Along the way to the next village he and the three other people with him saw lights in the sugar cane field. They looked closer and there were actually bloody eyes in the sugar cane.

Villagers in both villages have been warned and are afraid. They are not going outside of their houses at night.

I offered to go out to the village tomorrow night to photograph these ghosts but Duang insists that it would not be a good idea.

There is some good news though - because these ghosts have been spotted before they could eat anyone they apparently will not be eating anyone - this time. I guess that's one of the rules. Now that they have been disclosed, the Phii will apparently be limited to playing jokes and causing problems for the local people.

The more that I write about this the more motivated I am to delve deeper into this problem. I might be able to turn it into a Wes Craven horror movie script. There was a horror movie called "Children of the Corn". What about a new film - "Creatures of the Cane"?

Cooking and Heating in Northern Vietnam

One of the interesting aspects of traveling, working, or living in different lands is the opportunity to see and observe how mundane activities are handled by different cultures.

A common activity for all cultures is cooking food and heating the home.

In America, many people take great pride in the technology and opulence exhibited in their kitchens for cooking their food.

The ability to cook food in electric ovens, convection ovens, gas stoves, bottled gas appliances, or whatever the latest technology is a luxury that is not shared with most of the people in the outside world.

Here in Isaan many people, especially falang households, have bottled LPG cook tops. The bottles range from 7 Kg (15 pound) to 10 Kg cylinders and are stored indoors. We have a 10 Kg bottle underneath the kitchen sink just as we had in Pattaya. Some western style kitchens have one or two electric burners for a stove top. Very few Thai people or for that matter falang have ovens. We have an electric oven which we seldom use.

Isaan people in the villages may have a single bottled gas burner but more typically they cook their food over an open wood fire. To me a more appropriate terminology would be "stick" fire rather than "wood" fire. The stoves are small, approximately 2 gallon sized metal cylinders lined with refractory material. About 6 to 10 small sticks, 1/2 inch to 3/4" diameter by 12 inches to 18 inches long, are burned inside the container. The insulated cylindrical container concentrates and retains the heat of the burning sticks. It is more efficient and more economical than open fires.

Along side of the road, "restaurants" grill their chicken and pork over charcoal fires just like Americans do.

When we lived in northern Vietnam, the people had a different means for cooking and heating their homes. In Quang Ninh Province, there are many coal mines. Just like in Appalachia, the people are very poor. Everyday on my way to and from work, I saw people gathering coal off of the roads to us in their homes. Their homes were one room brick structures without running water or indoor plumbing. People would wash along side of the road where springs came out of the hillside. The men would strip down to their boxer shorts and wash themselves. Women would wash themselves underneath their wrap around shifts The community bathing area is also where the clothes were washed and drinking water gathered in plastic recycled vegetable oil containers.

Northern Vietnam gets a great amount of rain in addition to the water that is put on the dirt road to keep SOME of the coal dust down. This creates large puddles of slippery and slimy coal - dirt - water slop. People spend a great deal of time diking and containing these puddles. There is a reason for all this attention. Coal and dirt, more specifically clay, are utilize for cooking and heating.

In Northern Vietnam, especially the coal producing regions, the people cook and heat with coal briquettes. The use of bees nest coal briquettes came to Vietnam from China. The coal briquettes are a combination of coal fines, clay, and water. The 1 Kg (2-1/4 pound) to 1.3 Kg (2-1/2 pound) cylinders of compressed material have a series of small diameter holes running through them. The series of holes in the cylinder assist in the combustion of the coal fines and along with the moisture content help moderate the temperature of the fire.

A single cylinder is placed in a metal container that is lined with refractory cement. The cylinder is initially set on fire using a small amount of wood. Once the cylinder is set on fire it burns continuously without any way to stop or control the heat. Once all the coal has been consumed, a shell of brown semi stiff clay remains to be discarded. Sides of houses, alleyways, and road sides are littered with the remnants of coal briquettes.

The burning briquettes are also used to heat the small houses. Because the homes do not have storm windows, or even glass on the windows and have loose fitting doors, the dangers of carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide are somewhat reduced.

The production of coal briquettes is a cottage industry. The people along the coal transportation routes gather the coal fines that fall off of the trucks. The puddles that occur along and in the road are "farmed" to produce the mix to form the bees nest briquettes.

While visiting Quan Lan Island, I watched and photographed young boys molding the mixture into briquettes. Prior to my arrival, a truck had dumped about 1 cubic meters (9 cubic yards - a little over a cement truck load) of premixed coal-clay-water on the street in front of their house. This is SE Asia and the differentiation between private property and public property is very loosely defined and seldom enforced. It is a common sight to see sidewalks blocked and streets blocked or partially blocked by defacto restaurants, building materials, canopies for celebrations, stages for entertainment, or parked motorcycles. Things are much different in the western lands of the "free".

I watched for a good amount of time as the boys converted the large amount of stiff coal mud into bees nest briquettes - one briquette at a time. I must have observed them for 45 minutes and they had made no noticeable dent into the pile.

They gathered the stiff coal mixture in their hands and dumped it into a homemade molding machine. It took about two or three handfuls, depending upon the size of the boy, of mixture to fill the mold. The molding "machine" was made out of rebar, pipe, and steel plate.

A handful of dry sawdust is sprinkled around the inside of the mold to break the bond between the eventual briquette and mold walls. The coal mixture is then set into the cylindrical mold top section, a perforated plate cover was swung over the top and secured. A second boy manning a long wood lever then pushed the lever down. The action of the lever going down causes the bottom section of the machine, a plate with a series of long slender rods, to compress the coal mixture into a bees nest briquette. The upper mold is opened up and the completed briquette is carefully removed and placed on a piece of wood in the street to set. When the wood is filled with completed briquettes, two boys carefully pick it up and more the assemblage to a flat area to offload the briquettes for curing in the sun.

Throughout northern Vietnam, you can see people handling these briquettes - gathering the fines, forming the briquettes, transporting them, selling them, using the briquettes and disposing of the spent ones.

Transportation of the briquettes, is just as interesting as photographing the making of them. Some briquettes are transported by motorbike. Two metal frames are mounted on each side of the rear tire of the motorbike. At the bottom of each frame is a 3 foot by 3 foot wood floor. Briquettes are set and stacked to about 3 feet high on each side of the rear wheel. Because the product is made out of coal fines, the motorbike as well as the bike driver are covered in black dust. As awkward as the combination looks, the drivers skillfully weave about the crowded and rutted roads selling and delivering their important cargo.

Some vendors are too poor to have a motorbike so they haul the briquettes by bicycle. Just about as many briquettes can be hauled by bicycle as by motorbike but slower. The Vietnamese are masters in the art of hauling things by bicycle and motorbike. I have seen small refrigerators being transported on the back of motorbikes. The Vietnamese can carry as much on the back of their bicycle as most American choose to carry in the back of their pickup truck.

In the coastal region where we lived, there were many boats that brought the briquettes out to the islands and floating communities where people live. This is a photo of a man with his boat with briquettes to be shipped out into the bay.

Hill Tribe People - Lahu

The Lahu Hill Tribe people, like most of the other Hill Tribes originated in the mountainous regions of Yunnan Province, China. They rebelled against central government control in the 1700s. This lead to a southward migration.

Today the Lahu people are found in China, Vietnam, Laos, Burma, and Thailand. They first entered into Thailand in the 1800s starting with the Chiang Mai - Chiang Rai area. There are around 30,000 Lahu in Thailand today.

In Thailand the Lahu people are also known as the "Mussur".

One of the subgroups of the Lahu people are the Lahu Shehleh (Black Lahu). Shehleh Lahu women wear black clothing with white trim. They wear wide pants that go down to their knees. The bottom of their legs are wrapped in black cloth with white trim. Their black robe is split at the sides from the waist down and opens in the front. Horizontal bands of white, blue, red. sometimes yellow decorate the sleeves and shoulders of the robe.

Whoops - just had to take a break from this literary endeavor. Duang just called me upstairs to see the local television broadcast of the second night's Chinese New Years Celebration. last night there were drumming demonstrations and little children dancing. The little dancers were very cute - 3 to 5 years old. They were very intense and focused with their dancing. Some were so focused that they continued to dance even when the music stopped! "Music? Music? We don't need no stinking music to dance!" Tonight the special treat (treatment?) was a Chinese matron singing a song. She had a 1950s highly teased hairdo with sparkles in it. She and her husband own the largest and most numbers of gold shops here in Udonthani. I suspect that they paid some gold for her opportunity to entertain us tonight. The highlight of her performance were the dancers accompanying her on stage. They were all Thai Kathoeys (lady boys). The dancers were resplendent in their pink spaghetti strapped sequined formal gowns. It was quite a sight to see and hear. As they used to say "That's entertainment". I am certain that I missed or did not understand their intent but I did find it all quite entertaining.

Anyhow - back to the Lahu.

Shehleh women cover their head with a large Turkish towel wrapped up into a turban. Many of the woman shave their hair high up on their forehead to be more comfortable carrying things on their back with a strap across their forehead. This is definitely not a style that I believe will catch on in the USA. It makes everyday a truly bad hair day.

In addition to some Lahu women having a bad hair day everyday, some Lahu women, typically elderly women, have bad teeth days. Their teeth may actually be fine but they look absolutely horrible. An old tradition that is still practised today by older people is "betel nut chewing".

Betel nut chewing goes back about 4,000 years. It involves chewing a slice of the Areca nut, along with lime wrapped up in a betel leave. The concoction stains the lips and gums. It also produces copious amounts of saliva - spit. It is just as disgusting to watch as watching someone chewing tobacco. In fact in a symbiosis of cultures, many people now include loose tobacco in their betel nut chewing.

The chewing initially stains the gums and lips a distinctive red, red orange. It seems to me that over time this red, red orange stain evolves into a black stain. It is very unappealing.

Betel nut chewing was not limited to the poorer classes of people in SE Asia. In museums, there are displays of fancy and expensive containers that were used by Royalty to store the various components required for their betel nut chewing pleasure.

Chewing betel nut supposedly provides a mild pick me up similar to a cup or two of coffee. This pick me up allegedly makes it easier to cope with work and hunger.

The market in Khumphawapi sells bundles of the betel leave, as well as the other necessary ingredients. Rather than keeping the components in silver, or gold containers, the Lahu and Tahsang Villagers store the items in recycled screw lid plastic jars.

The Lahu are the most Christianized of the Hill Tribe peoples. Those who are not Christians are Animist like the other Hill Tribe groups.

Yao Hill Tribe Textile Art - Part II

During our visit to Chiang Rai in the Golden Triangle Area of Thailand, we stopped and visited many Hill Tribe villages. Most of the villages had textiles for sale.

The sale of tribal handicrafts is a big component of the minority people's income.

We have a deep appreciation for the art and culture demonstrated in the tribal textiles. We seldom return from the Hill Tribe areas without some new piece or pieces of textile art. Fortunately the fabrics are very affordable.

This photograph is of the second large piece of Yao Hill Tribe textile art that we purchased in June of 2007. The stitching of this piece is not as fine as the previous Yao piece that I identified as my favorite. This second piece is not as elaborate as the piece that the elderly woman spend 15 months creating.

However this piece has its own points. The design is more simple and I tend to appreciate the beauty of simplicity more than complex or elaborate designs.

For more photographs of Hill Tribe textiles, I am including the following link to my photography web site.

http://hale-worldphotography.smugmug.com/gallery/7175083_HXbgH/1/460637309_Pbpcz