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From Marco Polo Magazine, Spring 2002 THE OTHER THAILAND: The northern hills are a whole different world By Janna Graber Welcoming sunlight pours in through the glass at Chiang Rai’s tiny airport. After a long trip to Bangkok and a connecting flight to Chiang Rai, I’m eager to see my destination at last, so I head to the window for my first glimpse of Northern Thailand. The sight stops me in my tracks. It’s not at all what I expected. From all the stories I’ve heard about Bangkok – tales of frenzied avenues, teaming crowds and tuk-tuk drivers careening wildly through the streets – I had imagined that all of Thailand was one huge mass of people, moving about in their busy lives. But now, staring outside, all I can see is an empty parking lot and a wide-open field. I begin to wonder if I have landed in the wrong country when my friend, A-Je, pulls up with his pickup truck. “I knew it was time to pick you up when I saw your plane fly over our house,” he says, tossing my suitcase into the back. It seems that mine was the only big aircraft scheduled for that time of day. A-Je pays the bored-looking parking attendant, and we turn out into the streets. The wide, unhurried lanes are dotted with pickup trucks, motorcycles and mopeds with up to four riders. Female bike passengers, wearing modest skirts, sit sidesaddle behind the driver. No one seems to be in a hurry here, so I roll down the window and soak in the deep greens of the lush trees and plants, and the colorful reds of temples and shops. There are children in blue school uniforms playing on the sidewalk, and shoppers attending their business in the small stalls that line the avenues. Life in the north is a whole other Thailand. “We’re more traditional here than in Bangkok,” A-Je explains. Later, I view those conservative values when I’m out shopping. Every where I go, younger people greet their elders (even me!) with a polite “Sawadee” (hello) and a bow with hands held together in front. “In Bangkok, many kids don’t use that greeting anymore,” a local woman later tells me, shaking her head in disapproval. Northern Thailand is lush hill country. Here in laid-back Chiang Rai, we are closer to Burma (Myanmar) than to Bangkok. Once a prosperous country, Burma now struggles under the repressive hand of a military government. Laos, which has also known war and poverty, is just 35 miles northeast. The three countries meet in a fertile area called the Golden Triangle – a region that was once the opium-producing capital of the world. Chiang Rai is the perfect base for exploring the northern hills. The city has a population of 1.2 million, yet feels like a small town. The Thai, I soon learn, are a gracious and kind people. They smile in greeting, and give encouragement each time I try a few Thai words. Yet it is not the Thai that I have come to meet. The nearby
hills are home to six distinct hilltribes. The Akha, Karen, Lisu, Yao, Hmong and
Lahu each have their own language and culture. These 540,000 tribal people lead
remote lives and are often considered outsiders among the Thai. Many of the
villages have limited electricity and no indoor plumbing; homes are made of
bamboo and thatched roofs. Most tribesmen depend on farming for their
livelihood, and villages migrate between the steep hills of China, Thailand,
Burma, Laos and Vietnam whenever the soil at their present location is depleted.
Trekking companies offer the easiest way to visit the hilltribes, but I plan to visit the villages with A-Je, who is from the Akha tribe, and his American wife, Nancy. After picking up Nancy, we drop off my luggage at the lovely Wiang Inn. Then we head out for an evening of shopping at the city’s popular night bazaar. It’s almost 9 p.m., but the lanes are overflowing with vendors selling artistic carvings, blankets, hand-crafts and instruments. There are dozens of food stands. One vendor offers plates of well-cooked beetles, crickets and bamboo larvae worms. Although I admit that the spicy aroma of these dishes is not bad, I can’t quite get over the thought of eating bug legs. I decide to pass on that – at least for now. Here and there, Nancy points out the distinctive dress of the hilltribes. Three young Akha women with their intricate, red-beaded dresses and ornamental headdresses outlined in silver coins offer me their craftwork. Their shy grins reveal red-stained teeth and gums, the remnants of chewing betel nut, a popular habit here. The women recognize Nancy and eagerly speak to her in Akha. I get the feeling that there are not many in Thailand who can speak this tribal language. The next morning dawns bright and sunny – a perfect day for heading upriver to the Karen village of Ruammit. We hire a boat and driver for 500 baht ($11.50) at the Mae Kok Boat Service Company in Ban Thatorn, and hop in. The slim, long craft hums loudly as we skim up the Mae Kok River. With minutes, we’re in the wilderness, surrounded by distant forested hills and tall waving grasses on the river banks. We pass several men in their underwear fishing rocks from the river for sale in the city. Forty minutes later, we reach the village. There are three elephants in the river, and more on the riverbank. The Karen are known for their use of elephants in farming, Nancy says. Scrambling ashore, we’re greeted by two men struggling with a 15-foot Boa Constrictor. They ask if I’d like my picture taken with the snake draped around me. I glance at the massive creature, and decide to pass on that. Behind the men, several elephants are walking around freely, looking for a handout. Nancy, who has been here dozens of times, pushes their trunks away and makes her way past, while I follow cautiously behind. Nancy speaks to the villagers in Thai, who also speak this
as their second language. “It’s 150 baht (about $3.50) for a ride,” she says.
“Give it a try!” I mount rickety stairs that lead up to a high platform and
crawl onto a chair tied to the elephant’s back. The animal’s handler hops on the
creature’s head, and we’re off.
I’m not prepared for such jilted footsteps, and have to support myself with both arms to keep from being thrown side to side. But I like the view from up top as we make our way down the narrow lanes of the village. Chickens dart out in front of us, and dogs, which all look alike, run about the dirt lanes. Karen tribes settle in the foothills, and most follow the Christian faith. The women dress in colorful blouse-sarong combinations, and their long hair is often covered with white scarves. Across the border in Burma, the Karen are fighting for autonomy. Their ill-equipped army has held off the Burmese soldiers for years. But here in Thailand, the Karen are farmers, not warriors. Many of the raised bamboo homes have open windows, with no glass, so I can see inside. There are women cooking, children playing and several men sleeping. A few women sit making purses with neat, beautiful stitching. These will be sold later at market for a dollar or two, the only weekly income for many of these mothers. My body is sore after the ride, but I forget about that when Nancy and I stop at an outside village “restaurant” for lunch. We are the only ones there, but the food, consisting of rice, chicken, peanuts and spicy vegetables, is good. And at $2 a plate, it’s a bargain. After purchasing several items in the village, we head back to the riverbank, where our driver is waiting. The return trip is chilly, and I’m glad I have a jacket. Although Northern Thailand has a moderate climate and most people do not have heaters in their homes, it’s cooler here than in Bangkok. Our destination the next day is the small Hill Tribe Museum and Education Center in Chiang Rai. Alberto, the curator, has an obvious is passion for the hilltribe people. He shows me a video, and then offers me a quick lesson on the tribes. The Lisu people stay together as extended families, and it is the women who go in groups to fish. The Akha, who are spiritists, have a special gate at the village to prevent bad spirits. Other Akha have converted to Christianity, and they have been forced to form their own communities. The Yau have a language and culture similar to the Chinese, and the Hmong have large families averaging eight children per family. The word “Lahu” means hunter. This tribe prides itself on their trapping and hunting skills. They are well-known for their knowledge of herbal medicine. The women wear colorful turbans and beautiful silver earrings. The hilltribes face many difficulties – severe poverty, drug abuse, prostitution and AIDS are common. Education is also problematical, due to the fact that there are few village schools, and that most tribal children are not Thai citizens because they lack proper birth certificates.
We wander through the museum, which has a collection of photographs, tribal artwork and clothing. One photo catches my interest. It is a picture of Padung women, often called the Long-necked Karen. This tribe believes that long necks, stretched from birth by metal coils, are a sign of beauty. Alberto shakes his head when I ask about this. “We don’t recommend you visit this tribe,” he says. “There are no indigenous populations of Long-Neck Karen in Thailand. A businessman imported these people and set up a mock village for tourism.” “What exists,” Alberto adds with a note of frustration, “is somewhat like a freak show.” Such exploitation is the reason that Alberto and others implemented a Community-based Tourism Development project called Lorcha Village. “We wanted to develop a model of tourism where education and cultural exchange are the main purposes,” Alberto says, “not just buying souvenirs from villagers.” In this program, it is the villagers who are the teachers
and benefactors of tourism. When visiting Lorcha, guests are briefed, welcomed
with a dance, shown a weaving demonstration, and then led on a guided tour by a
tribal resident.
The Museum also offers treks -- from one afternoon to several days -- to numerous villages. Guests overnight in the tribal guest homes. “We take in small groups,” Alberto notes, “so we don’t overwhelm the hilltribe.” A-Je is my guide when we drive up into the Akha villages that next day. We stop at several communities on the way. Each village has dirt lanes and dozens of tiny bamboo and thatch homes built on stilts. Livestock rest in the shade underneath. Each villager we meet is dressed in traditional clothing, and many know A-Je by name. This is obviously a tight-knit community. The villagers smile and greet me shyly in Akha. (The younger people can speak Thai and English, A-Je says, but the older generation mainly speaks Akha.) At each village, A-Je points out pieces of his childhood -- a tiny concrete village church, a main water tank, the hills his family farmed and the incredible view across the valley. We walk around the homes, our footsteps raising dust on the earthen paths. Most of the villagers are out working in the fields, but we see several women roasting chilies and stitching; others are minding children and working on laundry. As we enter one of the homes, I examine the roof. It is a tightly woven piece of artwork. A lone bulb from some unknown power source lights the small hut. This typical home has two rooms, A-Je explains. The women sleep on one side; the men on the other. Sometimes, he adds, parents build their own place for a little privacy. Some homes also have a room set aside for paying respect to ancestors.
Another lady dressed in full traditional attire welcomes us into her yard. Her hut is small and simple, yet A-Je tells me that her son, Gajaw, has just become the very first Akha lawyer. I wonder about the dichotomy these young people face, struggling to preserve their traditions while keeping up in a changing world. A-Je is such an example. As the first Akha to graduate university, he is proud of his heritage and works to preserve it. At the same time, he uses education to keep up and move ahead. “My parents were farmers,” he says, “and they worked seven days a week. My grandfather didn’t want me to pursue education, but my father defied my grandfather to allow it.” Now A-Je is helping other Akha young people receive an education as well. He and Nancy run a home in Chiang Rai for Akha children who have lost their parents or who need help getting an education. I hear a small squeal behind me and turn to see another woman come to greet A-Je. She invites us in, giving me a squeeze and exclaiming over my blond hair. In her 30’s, Amporn wears western clothing and has short black hair. We sit together on the floor, and with A-Je translating, she talks about her son and her life. Then she disappears into a back room and returns with some jewelry she has been crafting. She smiles and fastens a bracelet around my wrist. “Is your mother alive?” she asks me hrough A-Je. I nod. “Then this is to honor your mother,” she says, placing a necklace around my neck. “Thank you,” I struggle to say in my day-old Akha. Amporn grins and squeezes my arm. The afternoon passes quickly, laughing and talking. All too soon, it’s time to leave. Amporn walks us to the car and several other Akha women stand to watch us go. The sun is just beginning to dip behind the peaks as we pull out of the village, muting the dark greens of the hillside forests. I turn around for one last look at the hilltribe community, and see Amporn. She is standing alone, still smiling and waving goodbye. END Sidebar #1 Trekking companies Dapa Tours A non-profit, licensed trekking company founded by Akha businessmen. All proceeds used for Akha community development work. 115 Moo 2, T.Rimkok Chiang Rai Tel. 711354
Hilltribe Museum and Education Center 620/1 Thanalai Road, A.Muang Chiang Rai Tel: 740-088 Email: CRPDA@Hotmail.com Website: www.pda.or.th/chiangrai
Golden Triangle Inn and Tours Tel. 6653 – 711339 Email: gotour@loxinfo.co.th 590 Paholyothin Road Chiang Rai
Boonbandan Guest House and tours 1005/13 Jedyod Rd. Tel. 717040 Sidebar #2 Useful websites for planning: www.Tourismthailand.org www.Chiangmai-chiangrai.com Sidebar #3 Day trip into Burma If you’d like to venture into Burma (Myanmar) for the day, head to the city of Mae Sai, which is 35 miles north of Chiang Rai. To cross the border, park your car in Mae Sai, and then leave your passport with the Thai border patrol so they have record of your visit. Then give two copies of your passport and US$5 (Thai baht also accepted) to the Burmese (Myanmarese) border station and walk over the border into the town of Tachilek. The time difference here is ½ hour behind Thailand. Travel is restricted to Tachilek. Tachilek offers an immediate glimpse of life in Burma, as well as many riverside stalls to eat and drink. (As in Thailand, drink only bottled water.) There are numerous venders offering jewelry, jade, rubies, sandalwood and black lacquer artworks. Thai baht is the best currency to shop with. Remember that you must be back across the Thai border by 6 pm. For more information, contact the Tourist Police or Immigration for up-to-the-minute regulations. END |
Alberto offers tips on visiting the tribes: Don’t show
physical affection, enter a home without invitation, touch the spirit gates or
take photographs without asking first. Do be friendly and show respect for their
culture.
We hop back into the truck and drive up further to the
village of Paka, which is part of the Princess Mother’s Doi Tung Development
Plan. This village looks very different. Here the roads are bricked, and
electric wires run to each hut. There are colorful flowers along the street. We
greet one woman who sits on the hard earth, carefully crafting a reed basket to
hold her chickens. Her skilled hands move quickly.