Pology Magazine  -  Adventures in Travel and World Culture.
Travel and World Culture   
Thailand
  Photo: Lars Christensen
Thailand
 Photo: Steven Allan

Thailand: Oral Hygiene And The Hokey Pokey (cont.)

Approaching the Palong territory, I noticed a symbol cut into a tree. It was a charm etched into the wood to protect the area and the tribe from evil spirits. The tribe was growing corn. The crop stood around seven-feet, verdant and hearty. Their Buddhist temple was on the outskirts of the village. I saw a couple of monks’ silhouettes laboring at the back of the building. Incense wafted in the wind.

Their homes were made of bamboo and were built on stilts because of the rains. Two small children giggled and ran slightly ahead of us, heralding our arrival. The tribe came out to look at us as we passed. A group of women waved at me. I grinned and waved back at them. They were dressed in their native clothing – long, colorful, woven skirts and large sashes around their waists with vibrant tops, but the men wore Western jeans and shirts.  I had to check my surprise at the discoloration of their teeth from the bezel nuts they chew.

We stayed in a lodge that belonged to the Palong chieftain. The building was like all the others, except there were rows of woven mats and pads arranged in pairs under mosquito netting that hung from the ceiling. It was simple. I was exhausted and couldn’t wait to lie down.

A woman with a large piece of fabric wrapped around her body bathed herself from a faucet that was outside the chief’s home. All of the locals used that tap for drinking water and for bathing, we were told. I tried not to stare at her while I cleaned myself the best I could with bottled water and wet naps.

Tong served us a dinner of green curry chicken with rice and soup. We ate in front of the lodge at a covered picnic table. Night was coming soon and the moon was rising.  The food was delicious.  I giggled as I sipped my beer looking at my thoroughly filthy clothing. All the while, some of the villagers lingered in our periphery watching us as intently as we watched them.

A campfire was built so that we could see. The tribe’s children set up to perform a few songs and dances. They formed a line opposite us with two teenage girls on either end, who looked like they would rather be somewhere else if they could. The fire between us illuminated what would otherwise have been just the shadows of the children'. The regal reds from their traditional garb were striking. A small boy in the middle kept pushing his hair away from his forehead while trying to keep up with the others’ dance movements. Their hands floated fluidly into different symbolic positions. The younger children looked to the older ones for their cues. They sang two indigenous songs. One of them was about the moon. Then they sang a rendition of the “Itsy Bitsy Spider” that was haunting and comforting. We all smiled in recognition.

When we were prepped for this trip; the guides took care to impress upon us to respect the tribes’ culture and to tread lightly. We were encouraged not to bring any gifts too Western in nature. Clothing was out of the question. The tribe wanted to rear their children by their own values and customs, without interference from others. The challenge was how to do that without sheltering themselves completely from the outside world.  Even though I understood the intention, I pondered whether it was fair to children born in the 21st century to be raised out-of-sync with the times they are living in. Their poverty was already an enormous disadvantage. There must be a way for them to retain their tribal culture while understanding the macrocosm of which they are a part.

The children finished singing. Soon after Tong said, “Your turn. Your turn.” It was then that we discovered that we were supposed to sing for them as well. There were eight of us. Six of us were from the same country, all of us Western; but still we looked to one another for inspiration, a common thread between us with little success.

Finally, we came up with the “Hokey Pokey” to perform. We had barely begun the song when the children joined us in singing. They had been taught the song by a group of tourists before us. We sang as harmoniously as we could.

In the morning I handed over the bag of toothbrushes to the chieftain with mixed feelings. I was grateful for my experience, and it felt good to give them something, but at the same time I wondered if the price of the gift might be too much to pay for a tribe that was clinging to its heritage. I saluted him with a wai before climbing onto the back of an elephant for the journey to our next destination. As we started to move, I noticed a group of children inevitably, impatiently waiting to see what was in the bag.

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