Thursday, December 28, 2006


ban pha taek was good. few people, friendly and gentle villagers (they didn't make half the amount of noise rp made, damn rp), roaming village dogs and cats that either allow themselves to be petted or ignore you, a LOVELY river that we bathed in, and freedom.

now i suppose you can understand my enthusiasm for the river - i like the idea that you can't step into the same river twice - and we bathed in it one cold afternoon, climbing up the rocks of a small rapid and giggling while we ate biscuits sitting on the riverbed (yes we ate almost continuously, the altitude and temperature combining to release dangerous appetites within us), even after discovering that tiny leeches had clung to us while we were displaying our tribal/native skills. i love the river.

on the last afternoon we went forrest food gathering with the villager who takes care of the village centre (the village is so old, the hilltribe centre is based there) and a guy slightly younger than us. it took us two hours. we trekked a very long way away from the centre into some hilly areas that look impressive but impermeable from afar, but apparently hide edible baby ferns. and we had to cross the river many times, sloshing across the cold water, getting cut by the stones stuck in our sandals because it was too muddy and dangerous to walk without shoes in that part, and sinking occasionally into the soft sand (complete with shrieks on my part, because i am an unfortunately shrieky person). i would be a complete failure at living in the jungle for a week at least, until i figure out how to distinguish green plants from green plants.

i annoyed everyone on the trip (five other girls) by being my usual self, ie more interested in the animals than the humans. i named all the dogs i liked, and kept checking all the animals' genders (bad habit, but i need to know whether to refer to them as he or she) and almost didn't want to take out meowy (a very cute cat with lovely fur) who kept coming into our house. oh, and we stayed in the ex-headman's office, because he had it spare. it had tiles on the floor - the only tiles we saw in the village. needless to say, we would have preferred staying in one of the wooden stilt houses, especially when we woke up in the below-ten-degrees-mornings. but it was rather nice to have a place to ourselves since we didn't speak much thai (mine's limited to enquiring after toilets and people's names and ages) and no karen at all.

we went to the upper primary school a couple of days to carry out a project, and played with some girls who taught us thai songs and games. at the risk of sounding sentimental, or heaven forbid, human, i wish we'd been able to spend more time with them. oh and on our last night, the ex-headman's son flirted outrageously with one of the girls on the trip. the only one who actually spoke conversational thai. we thought it was hilarious. he asked her to leave her heart behind in the village. i guessed it by his hand gestures (yay i rock at reading body language. no wait i don't) and laughed myself into fits. su min had told the rest previously about my past ambition to be an indian chief (INDIAN chief, not village chief, su min!) and how i'd have to marry the chief and kill him to get there, and the rest tried to matchmake me with the guy whom we all thought was the ex-headman's son, but is really his friend. i resisted all attempts (because i am, as you know very well, un-interested in any human) until the real son started up his flirtation with the j1 girl and thankfully diverted their attention. in case you're wondering who the new headman is, he belongs to another village; four villages share one headman, so the ex-headman is still rather powerful. he's probably the richest man around anyway - he's got a tv (a small one), a computer in his office, and a fridge. very impressive for that village.

and here's the bit i liked most about the village. i felt so much more at home than i've ever felt anywhere else, especially in singapore. i'm not talking about the people (yes they are nice, but people are just people, you know?) - i mean the way there're soil and grass and trees but no paved roads, no throngs of people, nothing to remind you of yourself. i like the way the only mirror was in the centre's toilet (yes there were toilets, at least there were ceramic bowls that led to tunnels deep within the ground, with no flushes, and we bathed with dippers and pails, and i loved it because the icy water left my skin tingling) and i didn't even realise i'd broken out til su min mentioned it, and i never had to care that i didn't comb my hair (i don't usually comb it, but glancing into mirrors at home reminds me that i should) or anything else that we are required to care about in 'civilisation', as we came to call it. it's just so easy to forget about how you look, and focus on what's around you - the feel of the river pulling at your legs, or amber (the mother dog) teaching poopy (her kid) to forage for food, or, come to think of it, amber and her mate running through the greenery ahead of us in some extended game of foreplay (i'm sorry, there's no other way to put it, considering what we went on to stumble across), and the way they looked so free and unrestrained and carelessly happy, and now i'm staring down at emma who's asleep at my feet (she's so independent these days that half the time i have to go to her) and i'm just a little bit sad that she'll never have a mate like that. sorry emma, but population control, you know?

i know i sound crazy, and i resent that i have to justify my craziness, but i went on that trip partly to find out if my dream to run off and be a village teacher was misguided. and i'm starting to suspect that it isn't. in chiangmai i prayed for a sign. but being me, i need more signs than just this. so i'll wait. if i can't stand teaching in a typical singaporean neighbourhood school (like what i'll be doing, oh, next week? yikes!), i'll leave after uni and nie and serving my nie bond. i don't think i'm the city sort of girl. clothes and makeup are only fun if you have somewhere to wear them to, and most places entail meeting people you'd really rather not meet. my mother loves to remind me that when i was a kid, we'd drive past this area with lots of green open spaces every sunday on the way to church, and i'd never fail to tell my family about my ambition to be a pig farmer far far away. well, i don't like pigs now, but i still want to be far far away, surrounded by greenery and falling leaves and a river if possible.

it probably seems morally wrong for a person like me to be a teacher, given my dislike for and distrust of mankind in general, but i also know that it is my moral duty to serve mankind, and in truth i'm really very theorectical about it. i know the benefits of education, and even if i can't stand the people to whom i am tasked with handing over the beacon of light, i'll do it, because God called me to it. does that make sense? it is my unfortunate calling. unfortunate for me, anyway. my mother says God has a sense of humour. i don't have to like people, or even think much of them. i just have to do what has to be done. emma is wriggling her toes in her sleep and waving her paws about, it's all very cute. she's so cute, but so cold, it hurts a little. i guess dingoes really are independent dogs when they grow up. she could live without me.
10:11 AM ; 0 comments