Hill Tribes of Thailand
Hiking Through the Rain
Forest
July 1992
Continued from yesterday:
Day
Two- One Man’s Trash is Another Man’s Treasure
The
birds, the roosters, the kids, the hot sun and the 30 other people in the long
house get me up and going. Within a five-minute period, life got busy all
around me.
I
put my bloody shorts in my backpack and put my damn muddy long pants back on.
They were still damp from yesterday. I brushed my teeth and dropped my
toothbrush in the mud which is where it stayed. Now, I have no tooth brush for
the rest of the trip. There was no running water so I couldn’t wash my face or
hands. I had no brush so I couldn’t comb my hair. At that point, I was groomed
to the best of my ability and ready to face this day.
We
set the same pace as the day before. I picked up the rhythm of walking and
slipping and picking myself up and moving on. I was a little bit better than
yesterday with relieving myself. And I drink much more water because I was
sweating so much. But I ached all over.
By
late afternoon, we got to our next village and again we slept in the corner of
the longhouse. The children were fascinated by us and we fell in love with
them. They were dirty and tattered and scrappy. But they were beautiful. They
hung on us and followed us and giggled every time we spoke. They rubbed our
stomachs. Rae told us that they did this in helps it would bring them good
luck. We were all portly and they hoped that they too would receive an
abundance of food. We asked them their names and it appeared as if there was no
more than a variation of three or four names. Rae confirmed this with our guide
who told us they were named by the order of their birth: first daughter, second
daughter, third daughter.
As
the sunset we sat around the community fire.
Some people were drumming and singing for us. Others had come just to
stare at the pale people. One old man in particular watched my every move which
really wasn’t too interesting because I was just finishing up a bottle of
water. When I finished. I blew my nose and stuffed my tissue in the bottle.
That I remembered I had a used tissue in my pocket. I stuffed that used tissue down the bottle as
well. I shoved the bottle under my leg with the intention of crushing it when I
got up.
But
the old man leaned over and stretched out his hand. It looked as if he wanted
my empty water bottle. I thought I was wrong. This can’t be what he wants. But
he gestured again and then said something to our local guide.
“Can the old man have your empty bottle?”
“What does he want with it”, I asked with a
little naïveté.
“A water bottle around here is a precious
thing. He will have a lot of use for it. Can he have it?
Now
I was embarrassed. My trash was his treasure. But my dirty tissues were stuffed
in there. I pointed to them but he shakes his head “no” as if to say “no, that
doesn’t matter”. I handed it over to him and with his long, narrow finger he dugs
out my tissues. He cradled this coveted bottle on his lap. I watched with shame
a and disbelieve. But I made a note to myself: find a new place to discard used
tissues.
THIS STORY WILL CONTINUE TOMORROW
