Bah-Chum-Chung

How to describe our forest homestay? Hm. Brief?

We arrived fresh from our Green Market exchange (yes, pun intended), worn out from the early morning and hour-long van ride. Emily and I roomed together with our Mae Samphoon, in a pretty nice house with a real bed (exciting! Not just mats on the floor!). Soon we learned about our family, as Mae prepared a delicious – and plentiful – lunch. Mae lived with her husband (whom we never officially met). Like much of the youth in rural communities, her daughter was working or studying in Bangkok, but back home visiting for the duration of our stay. I think she had a son, a cute, wiry five or six year old, but that wasn’t made explicit. That’s the thing about these Thai homestay families. Sometimes, you just don’t know who that strange man sleeping on you living room floor actually is or how he is related to your family. Anyway, the family was definitely significantly better off financially than other families, but we never did find out why. Mae, however, seemed to be fascinated with money, asking us questions about how much we were spending to be here and so on.

Or at least that what I think she was asking. Emily, who had been an exchange student in Thailand for a few months back in high school, was able to divine this much out of Mae, so I’ll trust Emily’s linguistic skill.

Speaking of strange people stopping by homestays who maybe aren’t related to your family, we had an old woman stop by that first day. I don’t think she was my Mae’s mother, but age-wise, she could have been. Anyway, the woman was sitting down next to me during lunch that first afternoon, and repeatedly started calling me “suai”, or “pretty”. I don’t mean to sound bombastic, but this isn’t really the weird part yet. Thai people have as a generality, an attraction to lighter skin, hair, eyes. The skin-care isle of the pharmacy or 7-11 is packed not with self-tanner, but skin-whitening cream. I also think that suai (pretty) in some contexts is a word for white. So we farangs get called “suai” a lot.

What did get creepy is the leg massaging that went on. Kind of awkward what-the-hell-is-going-on, nervous smiles were exchanged between me and Emily. “What is she doing?” I said through teeth clenched in a smile. And then she smelled my hair, smiled, and called me suai again. I don’t really know. So yeah. I guess I have a boyfriend now, and her name is grandma.

We had our exchange, neither horrible nor terribly enlightening. One thing that did come out was this community’s total lack of trust in the government. They have been betrayed so many times by the government, that the leaders are no longer trying to operate through the governmental route. The main issues stem from the communal forest that has surrounded and been a part of the village for centuries. With certain laws in Thailand’s long, tumultuous political history, the control of the forest has been under many different policies. Instead, they just to resist. Most recently, the authorities have claimed the forest as state land, forbidding the villagers from farming the land or entering to gather native herbs and plants, yet allowing a timber company to plant fields of harmful eucalyptus trees. These leach the ground of its moisture, and nutrients and harm surrounding plants, make reclaimation difficult. We visited the forest and saw these rows upon rows of eucalyptus. Beautiful, graceful, but dangerous.

The walk in the forest was informative. Because the community has existed here for centuries, if not longer, the wealth of local knowledge is vast. They have plants that will cure many basic ailmrents – even one, they mentioned, local researchers had come to study as a possible antidote to avian flu. Don’t mess with local wisdom, I suppose.

After a hot, sweaty walk with leaves and roots, we switched gears and terrain. Into the river for a dip! The sun was setting and the light was sublime as we waded off the bank. In the background, a man was tending to his grazing cattle. Across the river we saw a local rowing team on a brightly-painted boat practicing. Their rhythmic calls ebbed with the ripples. To the gaggle of local children on the banks, our group – thirty-odd farangs, jumping fully-clothed into the muddy river – must have looked absurd. In fact, they just gaped at us for most of it, from their vantage point on the concrete pier. From what I could understand and overhear, they were fascinated wth us – our mannerisms, our appearance, our behavior.

When we were getting out, a herd of water buffalo swam down the river and walked out of the river. That was our view as we, dripping wet, piled into the bed of a pickup, drove away from water, sun dipping low in the sky.

In the morning, most of the families went to the wat (temple) carrying silver urn-like containers filled with food. The wat held many families. Many gave a dish to the monks, seated on a raised stage at the front, while the people sat on mats. The monks and community leaders spoke – I’m assuming sermons – and we all said some type of prayer several times. We CIEE students crawled up to the front at one point, where we were welcomed by the abbot, and handed a small, stone amulet with Buddha on it. Monks aren’t allowed to touch women, so when he handed it to me, the abbot dropped the talisman into my hand. Much wai-ing (traditional Thai greeting/sign of respect. Hands in prayer stance and bow head). Much of the super-wai (super-traditional sign of respect, reserved for monks sometimes and Buddha. Involves the wai then touching the forehead briefly to the floor).

Following an hour-long ceremony, we returned to our family groups to eat a large communal lunch. Various members served indiscriminately and families joined together to share food and conversation. Once again, bountiful and delicious food,– certainly a reoccurring theme at our homestays. In fact, I have yet to be truly hungry at a homestay.

Ok, this is getting a bit lengthy, so I’ll take a break. Coming next, monkeys in the temple, inspirational talks, long car rides, and a return to KKU.