My Facial Hair Experiment

It is hard to shave in the hills. The few locals who grow enough hair for it to be an issue probably only do it once every two weeks. And I have no idea how they do it. Taking a shower out there involves bending over a bucket of green water and splashing yourself with a bowl. The ‘water room’ definitely doesn’t have a mirror and I’ve never seen a can of shaving cream for sale within 100 kilometers of the villages. One guy I met only grows hair from a medium sized mole on his right cheek. And he definitely doesn’t shave because the three hairs growing from the mole are about 6 inches long. So when I’m up there I don’t get out my razor and risk facial gangrene. Therefore, Gabe in the hills means fuzzy Gabe. My last 4 day stint in the hills came after a weekend of no shaving. And when I got back to Chiang Mai I figured I’d rock the beard for a little while. I cleaned up my neck and my cheeks and hit the town feeling tough, manly and burly, and also a little scratchier and hotter than usual. I thought it would be hard to stand out more given the rarity of a 6 foot tall, 215 pound, curly haired, white guy in Thailand, but the beard did the trick.

Last Friday my boss comes to my desk to let me know we’re going, on Saturday, to the big once a year National SDF meeting in Phetchaburi. He tells me to bring some clothes and a toothbrush. It wasn’t until hour 11 of the 15 hour road trip that I found out it’ll be a 3 day conference to assess the progress of SDF. Aside from wishing I had brought more clothes and a towel, it was great. I met some awesome people who are passionate about making their world a better place and I learned a ton about SDF. We made PowerPoint presentations, talked about how the coup will affect our work, developed strategies for the next 5 years, discussed funding sources and ate and drank like it was a Roman Bacchanalia. My translator was an interesting chap named Jo. Jo used to be John when he worked for a telecom company in the UK. Then, one day, three years ago, he decided he needed to see more of the world and he moved to Thailand. He took a 90% pay cut and went from working for an international company of 90,000 people to an NGO of 40 people. It was nice to have a phalang friend to share the conference with. Without Jo I would have been very bored and lost. Thanks Jo.

The meeting, held at a Boy Scout camp that served great food, was a nice mix of a professional event involving people committed to the task at hand and a giant casual retreat of like minded people and families. I must have met 30 new people. At first they seemed a little cold and distant. I figured it was the standard Thai shyness towards phalang. But then I started to pick up on people talking about me. Thai Thai Thai Thai Thai Thai Thai phalang Thai Thai Thai Jew Thai Thai America. I realized I was getting described as the Jew from America. And I started to think about anti-Semitism and how people perceived me. Then I remembered my beard and I decided to do an experiment. I took careful mental notes on the various types of facial hair the Thai men at the meeting were sporting and I drew up a plan. On the second morning of the conference I shaved. This was no easy task given that I only had a dull razor, a small bottle of South African shaving oil and my beard was thick. But I persevered. When I looked at myself in the mirror I laughed. Was I really going to go around looking like this?

I had given myself a long mustache that dropped down around the corners of my mouth, a hearty soul patch under my bottom lip and a wider than normal racing stripe to cap my chin. With clean and smooth cheeks I went to my seat at the conference table and began collecting the results of my study. It was conclusive. My attempt to look more Thai was successful. People were more friendly and warm and chatty with me; I felt more “in.” The change was dramatic; it was as if while I was out of the room shaving, everyone was learning English. That night I basked in the social atmosphere of a Thai barbeque, which oddly involves a lot of raw beef. I also played drunken name games with a fun group of twentysomethings who were newer additions to the SDF family. I figure, when in Rome, it’s OK to look funny. Now I just need to decide how long to keep this Thai goatee for.

Hike

This morning I actually went for a run. Can you believe that? I woke up, took my anti-malaria pills, drank a bunch of water, put on my second most dirty pair of shorts and started running towards the park up the hill from my flat. But I had a good reason. It’s a long story.

Yesterday afternoon, after work, I had nothing to do and I’d been sitting in front of my computer all day, so I decide to go for a hike. I drive my moto up to this spot in a nearby park where I saw a trailhead last week. I park and go over to the sign. It’s all in Thai. There is no scale and no numbers to interpret as a distance. The map shows a couple of trails, some waterfalls and some shrines. I say to myself, “Whatever, what could wrong, this’ll be nice, I’ll just take the right fork and stay on the small loop.” So I set out. There’s a lot of uphill, which I like ‘cause I’m getting my heart rate up. I’m really moving. I’m surrounded by some nice dry broadleaf deciduous forest, the groundcover is sparse; you can see lots of dirt. The sky is blue and life it good. Soon the path levels out. Then I start to hear a river. I’m getting closer to it, it’s on my right. I find a nice little side path and shoot over to the river. It’s a great spot. There are pools where you could sit and soak and big banana trees all over; their giant leaves are swaying in the wind. I dip my feet in the water and it’s nice and cool. I have a moment and then decide it’s been enough of a break. I take my side path back to the trail and continue on. I pass a ratty looking dog who gives me a look as if to say, “What are you doing out here?” I expect to see his owner coming up after him but there is nothing. Soon the forest is getting wetter and denser. There are vines hanging everywhere and moss on all the rocks and thick green shrubs cover the ground. Skinny young trees are struggling to grow in the shade created by the tight knit of the overstory. I continue on. For a while I’m walking along a stream. The sound is pleasant but I keep expecting the trail to make a left and begin this loop I think I’m on. Instead the trail slowly veers right and I can no longer hear the stream. Soon there is a moss covered rock wall on my left and I’m in a bamboo forest. It’s not like the clean well ordered one I was in in Hawaii. The bamboo here is in knots. Falling all over itself. I’m ducking under the ones that sag and stepping over the dead. It is dark in there. I’ll take a moment here to answer the question you may be asking. Why didn’t I turn around? I don’t know. It never crossed my mind to do so.

Now it definitely feels like dusk. And the sounds of the forest are getting louder and more diverse. My mind is worried about how this episode will end but my body is kind of on autopilot, moving ahead waiting for an event to signify a new course of action. Then I get to a little stone bridge about 10 feet long that straddles a small stream. The bridge has high walls and a pleasant arch to it. Someone clearly put some time into building this. On the other side the forest falls away and I come to a river. Big broad flat rocks line the bank. I look downstream towards the direction where my hike began and I can see through the trees the lights of Chiangmai. It looks far away and far below my current elevation. I try to think about how much elevation I’ve gained and can’t pin it down. I realize it’s chilly. I must have climbed through the layer of smog that traps the city’s heat. Then I look upstream and can see some light, like a candle flickering. And I smell incense. I look around and find that the path is gone. So I walk upstream, in the stream. I go around a bend and come upon a shrine. Nine life-size Buddha statues are sitting under a large rock that juts out from the hill as if they came here to seek cover and just stayed. They each have distinct facial features and expressions. They are clothed with the traditional single piece of orange cloth. At their feet there are bundles of orchids, brass pots of dirt that hold the remains of sticks of incense, and piles of yellow wax. One of the statues has in front of him a fresh burning candle and a burning stick of incense. I look around but do not see anyone. I take it all in for a moment. I feel very lucky to have found this. But then my thoughts return to the task at hand: getting home. I notice a path that goes around the Buddhas’ rock and start on up.

The path immediately becomes very steep and feels very unofficial. At one point I lose it and then find it. I walk through another bamboo forest and then a stretch where the path becomes a wide space between trees that is covered in vegetation up to my thighs. The good news is this is the right direction. I figure that if this path eventually turns left there is a chance it will make my loop. Then I bump into a wire. I have found what appears to be a power line running from the shrine uphill. It is attached to mini concrete telephone poles about 6 feet tall. I follow the wire. After about 10 minutes I see, about 100’ in the distance, a clearing lit by fluorescent light. The light gives the forest an eerie feel. As I approach I can make out a small A-frame style building sitting on a wooden platform. There is a sink outside and a small leaf covered hut across from the building. It looks like a small camp. I decide this is where the monks who tend to the shrine live. I entertain a brief fantasy of joining them for dinner. Then I remember that they do not eat dinner. As I approach I hear the sounds of a TV or a radio coming from the building. I think about how difficult it would be to describe my situation to a stranger in the forest using only my miming skills. So I walk slowly around the camp hoping to find something beyond it, like my left turn. On my way around the camp I get clotheslined by his clothesline 3 times. He had it zig-zagged between 4 trees. I make it around the camp where I find some stairs cut out of the hill. I climb them to the top of the hill.

When I get to the top of the hill I step out of the forest and onto a lawn. I have arrived at a weather station. There’s the building with the office and I see the tower with all the gauges and instruments on it to measure pressure and temp. I know where I am because I recognize it from my drive up the mountain two Sundays ago to visit the famous temple Wat Prathat Doi Suthep. I passed it. Apparently the camp was for the station’s caretaker. I remember from the drive up that the station was after the smaller lesser temple and before the waterfall. I can’t believe how far away I am from where I need to be. If I remember correctly this was about 5 kilometers outside of town on the road that winds its way uphill. Now I feel screwed. The darkness of night is coming faster. I run around to the back of the weather station to look for the magic path I want so badly to find. Nothing. So I decide that the best course of action is to return to the shrine down the hill because that must be near the lesser temple. How else to explain the fresh candle? I just hadn’t seen the path from the shrine to the temple. From the temple I will be able to catch a ride down the mountain and back to town. Good plan. So I sneak around the camp again and step into a wet patch. I look uphill and realize I am directly below the sink. The sink probably has a line feeding it from a tank of collected rainwater but I doubt there is a proper sewage line hooked up to the drain. I’m standing in the waste stream. So I try to take a delicate step away but instead step into a trail of mud. I slide on my feet for a couple of yards and then hop off my mud skateboard. It is now way too dark.

I jog down the hill taking strategic leaps of faith over bushes. I am moving through the vegetation with reckless abandon. And I am so relieved to make it back to the shrine. I find the path to the temple and walk up the stairs. I take off my sandals and go inside. Inside there is a feminine Buddha about 15’ high with piercing painted eyes. Next to her are two 10 foot ones. And sitting in front of her off to one side is what looks like an old man who was dipped in bronze. The statue is so detailed and lifelike I am worried about disturbing his meditation. I think about the Buddha boy. Someone never moving but still working tirelessly for the benefit of the entire world. Then I look down. I cannot remember a time when I was more dirty. My clothes are soaked with sweat and splashed with mud and covered in seeds, stickers, burrs and there are a couple complete vines wound around my legs. I realize that I will not be getting a ride down the mountain. So I sit on the mats in the middle of the floor to rest my legs. I think I sat there for about 15 minutes. I thought about how I arrived at this place and about how long the walk down would take, I thought about how the temple was built and I thought about putting some money in the donation box. Then I thought about my breathing. And after a couple of minutes I wasn’t thinking about anything. I just sat. And that was really great.

Then I got up and dropped 20 Baht into the donation box. I lit one candle and one stick of incense (jasmine, I think) for the Buddhas in the temple and I took one stick and two candles outside to the shrine for the next foolish hiker. Then I started walking down the mountain along the ‘highway.’ It took me about 2.5 hours. I walked by some strange noises and some dancing lights in the forest that freaked me out. I passed the time but counting to 1000 and trying to not get hit by the speeding cars and motorbikes going up the mountain. I named all the constellations I could see that I knew. I watched the lights of Chiangmai get closer and I felt the air get warmer. Finally, at the bottom of the mountain I passed the national park checkpoint and another temple. I passed the zoo and the university and the office of the Royal Farming Initiative. I bought some carrot juice and a Thai iced tea and some yummy sweet French fries fried in coconut oil from some street vendors. I walked home, I showered and I went to sleep very tired. This morning when I woke up I realized that I had left my moto at the trailhead. So I went for a run. It was right where I left it.

Bamboo

There is bamboo everywhere here. You may think I’m silly for stating that. But it is really impressive. I knew that coming here I’d see a lot of bamboo, but damn. The other day I was watching some dudes build a house. When they need to get up high to put up some sheetrock or to paint, they just walk into the woods with a machete, cut down a 40’ high, 4” thick piece of bamboo, then drag it back to the worksite, hack it up, and throw up some bamboo scaffolding. It is so cool. They use ropes to bind together all the joints. They tie a loose knot and put a smaller piece of bamboo through the knot. Then they just twist it until it is crazy tight and they tie of the twisting stick so it doesn’t unwind. Then they jump up on that joint and keep going higher and higher. There are 5 story buildings here wrapped in bamboo scaff. I love it. I wonder if there has ever been a major accident involving a bamboo collapse. And in the hills I watched a villager cut up pieces of bamboo and weave a rope together in like 5 minutes to tie a bundle of bamboo to his truck. In their huts, the floors and siding, it’s all bamboo. Sometimes I’ll be in a hut and step on spot on the floor that is a little weak, it gives more than it ought to, it lets out a little creak of strain. The villagers love that. So I make a mental note of where not to step. I have a mental map for the floors of all the huts I’ve been in. Did you know you can make paper and fabric from bamboo? That stuff can do anything. And it grows so quickly. In the Karen tradition when a baby is born the umbilical cord and the placenta are placed in piece of bamboo and the bamboo is tied to a tree. Over the years, the tree will wrap around and consume the bamboo. The spirit of the person and the spirit of the tree will become connected. So every Karen person has their own tree. It is forbidden to cut down the tree. And when the person gets old and sick ceremonies will be made at the base of the tree to prolong the person’s life. I saw my first such tree this weekend. I came upon a wide open field in the middle of the forest. There were piles of felled trees on the edge of the clearing waiting to be collected and taken to the lumber yard. But standing there in the middle of the field was one proud giant old tall strong beast of a tree. I wanted to shake its hand. This photo is of some bamboo that a villager said was 20 years old. It was huge, about as big around as a cantaloupe. It’s just sitting in the middle of a village, like they’ve been saving it for something special all these years.

SDF: 1900 - 2006

Here’s what I have learned: The Thai government used to profit from allowing logging companies to harvest wood from its forests. The hill tribes didn’t like this and they sabotaged the logging companies’ efforts. The logging companies complained to the government and it forcibly removed some of the more aggressive hill tribes from their land. Many fires were set in the forests, some by the hill tribes to stop the logging (ironic) and some by the logging companies to disturb the hill tribes (also ironic). Things were violent and destructive. In the 1960s some important government guy visited the US and went to Yellowstone. When he got back to Thailand he established the National Forest system. A huge percent of Thailand became protected land. Logging ceased but life was still rough for the hill tribes. There were more forced removals. The government did not want to acknowledge the rights of the people who had lived in the forests for hundreds of years. The government has tried to contain the hill tribes and restrict their use of the forest. But the hill tribes practice a well developed sustainable organic method of agriculture involving crop rotation. Some fields used to grow crops get breaks as long as six years. This all but eliminates soil nutrient depletion and landslides. And the hill tribes are responsible managers of the wood and bamboo resources of the forest out of necessity; their whole way of life depends on the availability and health of the forest. The government uses helicopters to survey the land and when it sees hill tribe people cultivating a ‘new’ plot of land people are sometimes fined and arrested. In addition, there are conflicts between different hill tribes. Some are more aggressively abandoning subsistence living and pursuing farming for profit. This changes their lifestyles and their resource use. For example, the Hmong people, who live upland of the Keren, have recently begun to grow lumber to sell. But this reduces the amount of water available to the Keren.

SDF acts as a mediator between the various parties. And it makes progress on multiple interconnected fronts using baby steps. SDF is in it for the long haul. It interacts with the media and the hill tribes and the public and the government. It teaches sustainable farming and does advocacy work. It organizes public gatherings and everyone who works here is cool. SDF was started 10 years ago by Mr. Pihiyo Dacho. He is a great guy, hardworking, good sense of humor, he has vision and he is a natural leader, he is powerful and present in that great soft-spoken kind of way. SDF’s main field coordinator is Manop. Manop is the guy who takes me into the field. Manop is Keren (a hill tribe) and he’s a big drinker. Manop’s English gets much better when he drinks but it also gets more useless and rambling. He is a whiz in his red 4WD Nissan Extended Cab Pickup Truck. Manop can drive any road at any incline, even when it isn’t a road. Manop wears a straw cowboy hat that say’s Marlboro on it and as far as I can tell, a typical field trip is all about Manop driving around and meeting with people. Oh yeah, and drinking with them. He is a master networker. He has to know who the major players are and what their major interests are. SDF also has a full-time GIS (mapping) guy. Pau has a Master’s in geography and he makes beautiful sophisticated information-rich maps. When I met Pau it became clear that I was not going to be helpful when it came to using ArcView; his skills far exceed mine.

Right now SDF is working to push a bill through the legislature that will codify the government’s recognition of the basic rights of the hill tribes. This bill is the first ever initiated by the public in Thailand, not a politician. Last year SDF was part of a coalition that organized a march and rally that lasted two months and covered hundreds of kilometers. People walked from Chiangmai to Bangkok to bring attention and media coverage to the issues of the hill tribes. SDF has a project where they are helping some villages grow and produce organic shade-grown coffee that will put no additional demands on water usage in the forest. The coffee is great and the packaging isn’t bad. I helped correct the English.

SDF’s biggest and newest project is the mapping one. This is the one I was brought in to help on. The idea is that if they are armed with maps of where they live and work, the hill tribes will be able to force the government into dealing with the de facto realities of the hill tribes’ living situations. The project started by training the hill tribes to survey and mark their land. Then villagers were trained to use GPS units. They would walk their land and log the GPS information. Back at the SDF offices the data were downloaded and maps were made. However, the government said that the maps’ resolution was not good enough. So SDF is adapting and responding. It is all very exciting.

I’m gonna talk about where we are now on another post. It’s Friday night and I’ve put in two trips to the hills this week and I could use a beer right now.

My Moth Larva

Here's the deal with the moth larvae. I arrive at the village leader's eating hut after the long drive up into the mountains. We sit down by the fire and he brings out the Keren rice whiskey because it is always time to drink when you are in the hills. And Manop, the field guide says something to the leader's kid in Thai. The kid goes to put water on the fire to make some food for us and the leader says something to the kid in Thai. It seemed like, "Hey kid, do we have any more of that snack left over; you know the one that will freak out the phalang (white person)?" The kid goes to a stack of covered bowls in the corner, checks them out and brings one over. I see the contents and my first thought is, "Oh shit, maggots." Manop grabs a bunch and pops them into his mouth looking quite content. He chews and nods his head from me to the bowl. I shake my head politely. They are about one inch long and segmented and they look like they’ve been working out. They are shiny and cream colored and there is some chopped Thai chive in the bowl with the larvae. One end of each larva has a little black dot and I think, "That must be the head." Then I think, "Or it's the anus." Yes, the word anus appears in my mind and that sets my brain off. I’m thinking about all the parts that are in this whole organism that is food to these people. Manop is already aware that I am eating adventurously and starts the pressure. He tries in his broken English to explain that they are good, they have vitamin C and that they turn into bugs that fly. I keep trying to communicate, "No thanks." He makes a flapping gesture, then smiles, then rubs his belly and goes in for more. By now the kid and the leader are munching away too. I realize it's gonna be a lot of work to continue to decline so I grab the prettiest larva I can find in the bowl and put it into my mouth. It tastes oily and salty in a good way. But then I start to think more about what it is that I’m doing and I get a little grossed out. I figure I ought to apply the band aid removal method in this situation and make it a fast big pain, instead of a long drawn out little pain. I begin to chomp but it is squishy and slippery in my mouth. I have a brief flash back to my first time eating escargot when I was in fifth grade. I remember that I survived that experience and proceed more confidently with this one. The moth larva takes more work and more time than I care to invest but I manage to get it into enough bits that I can swallow it and not feel like I’m allowing a giant diseased worm to wriggle down my throat. I’ve done it; the horror is over. I tell Manop that it wasn't that bad and I smile. I’m actually only lying a little. I decline the offer to have more and everyone's ok with that.

Dinner Party

Two nights ago I was invited over to the home of Tuk and her 6 roommates for dinner. I’m going to have trouble remembering all their names. I know I met an Oyi, an Ohn, and an Oha. I think I was the only straight person there. Tuk works at SDF. Her friend, Grib, is my contact person with AJWS, the US-based organization that placed me in Thailand. Grib is butch and drives a big truck and uses a set of dentures as her key chain. Tuk looks way younger then her 35 years and is super sweet. I like them. Thais are very accepting of all sexualities. Last Saturday they took me to the mall so I could buy a phone and sheets. I watched how Thais politely discuss which brand of toilet paper to buy and share a papaya salad by separating out their favorite veggies. Grib has been doing a lot of translating for me as I get to know what it is the SDF does and needs help with. After the mall we went to Tuk's house for coffee. I met some of Tuk's roommates. They have a great porch and an outdoor kitchen that is set back in the jungle. And they have about 7 dogs. 6 of them are great but one doesn’t like phalang (white people) and he always barks at me aggressively. I was told that I am welcome to come over anytime for breakfast, a regular group event. They asked if I knew how to cook and I said, “Yes.” So now they are planning a night of Italian food and there is talk of Chinese and Japanese nights as well. It’s nice to have a community to belong to. Tuk has designed a house that is about 1 month away from being complete. She is using gorgeous recycled teak wood for the doors and windows. The dining room has a huge vaulted ceiling and the master bedroom has a lovely balcony. The tile in the kitchen and bathrooms is beautiful and the best part is that her new house will connect with the great porch of the house she currently lives in. It will be like a fabulous compound of gays and lesbians working for NGOs and arts organizations. The other American here, a journalist named Lisa, works at an NGO across from mine. Lisa has a theory about Thais who work at NGOs being slightly outside of the ‘norm.’ You can read her article on her trip to a Keren village, the one I’ve now been to twice, here.

So at dinner the food was excellent. It reminded me of taco night. It was a dish from Southern Thailand, lots of little bowls of various ingredients that you assemble based on your taste. But instead of tortillas the base is rice. We had fresh lemongrass and there was pomelo, my favorite citrus fruit, and some stuff I had never seen before, like a radish-like pink flower. Desert was papaya and guava and beer and plum wine. So after all the food was gone we sat around for quite some time talking about food and drink and who likes the morning and who like to party. And I looked around at everyone and had myself a nice moment. I had new friends.

To Work

This morning I got to work early. I've decided I love the wind in my hair and I love my motorbike. Nothing gets my day off to a fabulous start like zipping through the narrow winding roads in my neighborhood in the 'suburbs' of Chiangmai. I think that if all my transportation was this fun, I'd be late a lot less.

So I’m at work, at my desk, in front of my computer. Funny that I had to travel halfway around the world to get a normal job. Things here are good. I feel settled and have a good sense of what my experience here will be like in the weeks to come. Today is a big day at SDF but I’m out of the loop. Today SDF is conducting training for the tribal and provincial representatives so that they can clearly and forcefully articulate their perspective on the relevant issues during the conference with the Thai bureau of land management that will go down this Saturday. Then Sunday, SDF will hold a session to discuss how the trainings and the conference went. Then Monday and Tuesday, SDF will be developing its 5 year plan. The people at SDF have been preparing for the activities of the next five days for one year. And what happens will affect how I can best help SDF. It’s huge. Yesterday I was invited to join in all the activity but now I cannot find anyone. I think the training is being held at nearby community center but I don’t know where exactly it is. It’s kind of frustrating. I am quickly learning that there will not be much hand holding and direction.

I think I’ll blog and begin to collect my thoughts on my time here. The one thing that is clear is that I will be writing a report on the activities of SDF so that the next volunteer can hit the ground running and be as productive as possible. I also think that SDF needs help to specifically describe the skills that the next volunteer needs to have. Because it is becoming clear to me that I am a bit of a poor fit for the current needs of SDF. That said, I am interested in being as helpful as I can be. I am also beginning to think that a big part of being a volunteer here is to just be around, to be a white face seems to confer organizational legitimacy.

Background

This post is meant to fill you in on the basics of my trip. I am in Chiangmai, in the North of Thailand. I will be here for 2 months. I was placed here by American Jewish World Service. The following is ripped from their website: AJWS is an international development organization motivated by Judaism’s imperative to pursue justice. AJWS is dedicated to alleviating poverty, hunger and disease among the people of the developing world regardless of race, religion or nationality. Through grants to grassroots organizations, volunteer service, advocacy and education, AJWS fosters civil society, sustainable development and human rights for all people, while promoting the values and responsibilities of global citizenship within the Jewish community.

For more check out: AJWS

AJWS selected me as a volunteer and has placed with me with a Thai Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) called Sustainable Development Foundation of Thailand (SDF). SDF works to facilitate the sustainable development of marginalized groups within Thailand. Currently SDF is focused on ensuring the human and civil rights of people living in remote mountainous areas in the North of Thailand. SDF is working to empower the villagers and tribes who live in the hills to represent themselves and their interests to the Thai government and to general Thai public. I was sent to aid SDF with a mapping project although the details of what specifically I will be doing while here are still taking shape.

If you are able, it would be fantastic for you to support both the great work of AJWS and my work with SDF by donating some dough. I like to give $18 to the Jew groups. All donations are made directly though AJWS and are 100% tax deductible. Donate here. You will receive a letter from AJWS acknowledging receipt of your donation for tax purposes

I am going to try to post to this blog at least twice a week. Thanks.

Workin' Hard

It is rice harvest season in Northern Thailand. And the NGO I'm volunteering for wants me to help out. I think they are trying to break me in. Last week I arrived in time to help cut the rice. Once the rice is cut it has to dry for 3 to 5 days. Then the rice has to get thrashed off the stalks, bagged and put in storage. Yesterday I joined a crew of 15 Thai laborers and farmers for a long hard hot humid day of work. Keep in mind that for the Thais I’m working with this is the cold season; they’re all wearing jackets and wool hats.

Step 1: stand in the middle of a giant tarp with special bamboo sticks. Step 2: wrap bundles of rice stalks and beat them against a slotted wooden platform until all the rice comes free. Step 3: pile the stalks for the cows to eat. Step 4: repeat steps two and three until the whole field is clear. After I finished I thought I was off the hook for a while. The men and I sat down for a break. They smoked their cigars and drank rice whiskey. The whiskey is a lot like sake, only quite nasty and the cigars are made from rolling tobacco and broken bits of tamarind shell rolled into dried banana leaf, also quite nasty. They say the tamarind is for vitamin C. During our break I watched as the boys and women on the crew used large fans to blow out of the giant rice pile all the stray bits of stalk and empty rice husks. Then they bagged the rice and tied up the bags. Then everyone stood up. Apparently the rice doesn’t just carry itself.

This is a photo of me carrying a 50 kilo bag of rice. It's my second bag of dozens I carried yesterday. They had to get from the field up a narrow muddy path through the jungle to the road 400 feet above the field. Then the crew and I filled the back of a pickup truck with the bags and drove the bags to storage. Storage is little shack, just one room, on stilts, about 5 feet above the ground. So we pass the bags from the truck, up the ladder and dump the rice out into the little room. When we are done, the room, about 50 square feet, is filled with 3 feet of rice. It’s enough to feed one family for one year. The empty bags get passed on to the next family. Tomorrow the crew will thrash and bag another field. I’m looking forward to getting back to the city to work on my NGO’s mapping project. I’m also going to shower and get a Thai massage.