1:08 am, 27/12/02
A Midnight reflection

Coming back to Singapore has made me miss the simplicity of village life.

The moment the plane left Changi Airport, my heart danced a little dance. For those 12 days, I left behind burdens to carry, positions to assume, tasks to finish. It was as if my life took a little break, and I had the freedom to do something else. Something else besides work.

As the days went by, I began to appreciate the time spent playing with the village kids, or huddled around a camp fire eaten instant noodles or plucking vegetables in the field. This makes the hours spent plonked down in front of the TV or the computer empty and meaningless. The comraderie felt is unexplainable and for the first time in my life, I felt the kampung spirit that we the younger generation missed.

People were truer there. They served with all their heart and received with all their heart. They were willing to put themselves out so that we might be more comfortable. There was one night which was particularly cold. They lent the 4 elderly people on our team their blankets so that the elders could sleep better. I marvelled at that act of sacrifice when the blankets were all they had to keep warm. I was amazed too at the way those elders took the blankets for granted and complained about how bad everything was in front of our hosts.

Upon coming back, my heart stopped dancing. It slipped out of its nice dance dress and silently put back on its filthy work suit. I had work waiting for me, emails to return, appointments to keep, phone calls that left me wondering if I did something wrong by going out for a break.

I think about the last time I saw Na Oo and Na Si squatting behind the fence crying as we packed into the trucks. With tears streaming down my face, I longed to leap out of the truck and gather them into my arms, pledging to never leave them. How funny I chose to wipe my tears and look ahead. As the truck pulled out of the driveway, I never looked back once. It would have been too painful to see the girls.

Oh, I miss that little village of 80. I miss the nursery full of second hand toys. I miss the smoky kitchen where we sat around enjoying steaming cups of Lahu tea. I miss holding Kiat the dog's face in my hands. I miss the people above all.

Perhaps I am an escapist, perhaps I'm afraid to face up to the pain. But I long to be back in the mountains rather than here.

Who are the Lahu? (Taken from lisulodge.com)

The Thais call the Lahu tribe ‘Musur’, which means ‘hunters’. Indeed, they were largely a hunting community until a lack of game and a shortage of primary forest forced them into a more agricultural means of existence. They do not have such a long history as farming people, so they are not as efficient at producing food as the other tribes. For this reason, the Lahu language has almost become a “lingua franca”, spoken throughout the other hill tribes, since, amongst the Lahu, hiring out labour to other hill tribes has become common.

Although the Lahu can be quite reserved initially, before long one becomes a welcome visitor to their villages. Many villages are very poor, and a number have captured the attention of missionaries. In recent times the King's Royal Project and other aid agencies have been helping them with such initiatives as alternative crop production and the marketing of handicrafts. Times are improving slowly for some of them, despite the great difficulty of change.

The Lahu tribes originated in southwest China, and have migrated into Thailand from northern Burma. Most of their settlements are concentrated close to the Burmese border, in Chiang Rai, northern Chiang Mai, and Mae Hong Son province. There are four tribes within the Lahu - Black, Red, Yellow, and She-leh. Red Lahu women wear black trousers with white edging and vivid sleeves of broad red and blue stripes.

Lahu villages are generally at high altitudes. The Red Lahu are the only tribe to build a central animist temple, surrounded by banners and streamers of white and yellow flags. Houses are built on high stilts with walls of bamboo or wooden planks, thatched with grass. A ladder leads to an open central living area, with a storeroom to one side and living quarters to the other. There is one large bedroom, partitioned off as necessary according to family size. The main room has a central fireplace.

A high proportion – about one third – of Lahu have been converted to Christianity, and many have abandoned their traditional way of life as a result. Like the other mountain peoples, they lead simple lives, work hard, and strive to get by in an often harsh environment.