After waking up, washing ourselves, brushing our teeth and saying goodbye to the family, we started walking again, first downhill then, surprisingly, uphill.
Although the last days trek was definitely the easiest, following a path all the time (the only one connecting the village with the rest of the world... Imagening them carrying there TV's and steel roofs along this path was... difficult) we were so tired from trekking already two days in a row, that we complained more then on the other days together, wondering how we'd ever make it out of the djungle alive. The fact that Keo had us nearly running the entire way, didn't help. Nor did the fact that we'd run out of water the day before, and only had som chai, from the village, to drink.
We where also more quiet than usal, which Keo noticed, since for once I wasn't constantly asking him or Sasu "Nimen yang, nimen yang?" (What is that, what is that?) pointing at everything around me, in my attempt to learn Lao. Keo was forced to take teaching me into his own hands, but all I can remember learning during the third day is 'gu', which means salt, for my thoughts were too occupied with thinking about the life of the villagers we'd just left.
However, Sophia, Ruut and I were not the only ones who weren't quite ourselves on the third day: Sasu had been drinking too much Laolao with the villagers the night before, and had a hangover. (Luckily we knew when to stop.... we wouldn't have survived the walk) This meant that he, instead of walking infront of us, as usual, lingered on far behind, singing at the top of his lungs and thus providing us constant background music.
Singing in Akha sounds more like animalistic cries, so after calling Sasu Obama for two days (they look rather similar, don't they?) we now started calling him Tarzan instead.
After walking up and down in the jungle, jumping over a stream running down the mountains, or a fallen tree, now and then, we suddenly entered an entirely different world: we where out of the NPA(nature protected area) again, slipping downwards in a tunnel, with walls and roof made out of sugar cane.
When we saw daylight again, ie. made it out of the fields, the scenery had changed drastically compared to the untouched forrest we'd seen for the last three days. Suddenly the trees were cut down to make way for fields, or if there were trees, they were planted rubber trees. Only 10 percent out of Laos forrests are natural forrests anymore, and that's why NP areas are so important, considering all the endangered species that inhabit them. We met a couple of pouchers when walking in the woods though, and heard several gunshots, so not even the NPA's are perfect.
Another thing that was extreemly weird, it wasn't just us, Keo and Sasu anymore. There were people everywhere, working on the hills and looking after their rubber trees. We had a totally newfound respect for these people, who walk up and down hills on a daily basis, when we nearly managed to do it for three days. When Keo told us we still had two hours to go, and we all felt like crying.
Somehow we made it, and by running down all the downhill parts, we were in yet another Akha village before realizing it, and a lot faster then the promised 'two hours'. This 'village' didn't feel like a village anymore though, after the village we'd slept in the past night. Nay, it felt like a city, at least. After getting into the jeep (Sitting! Air-conditioning! Heaven!) and driving to Muang Sing, we suddenly understood why Keo keeps calling it 'Muang Sing city'. Try metropolis. Asphalt! Some houses not made out of tree! Falangs everywhere! So few animals! Stores - we hadn't thought about money for days! Everybody's clothes seemed so clean and tidy as well, and everyone looked so wealthy. Was this really the same Muang Sing, the little countryside town with one main street, which quantity of dogs and chickens we had been so amazed by only days earlier?
We thanked Sasu by buying him two packets of cigarrets (nasty habit, but he became so happy) and Keo by buying him a soccer ball and socks, promising to meet him at the soccer field later.
After this we wandered back to the bungalow we came to call 'home', with our walking sticks and chopsticks made out of bambu proudly in our hands, talking about how nice the warm shower was going to be (that we'd been dreaming and talking about for days, now only minutes away) but promising not to forget anything we've experienced on the trek. I'll keep this walking stick and these chopsticks forever, I said. I can probably not even walk without the stick anymore!
Two days later, and I forgot my bambu walking stick in Muang Sing. I'm still holding onto the chopsticks though, and I intend to hold on to the memories of the thoughest trek of my life (so far) and the my memories of the villagers, however disturbing, even long after the chopsticks are gone.
Sadly, the camera's battery died, so no pictures what so ever from the last day. We're happy there are no pictures of us from the last day though, because we were a horrid sight, and we won't forget the amazing views anytime soon, so no harm done.
The rest of you just have to go do the trek yourselves, to truly understand what I'm rambling on about!
//H
Showing posts with label Akha village. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Akha village. Show all posts
Nov 29, 2010
Nov 28, 2010
Trekking - Day 52, The Mentally challenging day
After eating breakfast (more rice, surprise) and packing, we were off once again. The sun was shining, although we could see that the valley, where Muang Sing lays, was still covered in clouds, as it is every morning.
After an hour or so we reached the highest hill in the region, about 1850 meters above sea level. When we started walking downhill the landscape suddenly changed, and instead of walking in low grass (with thorns, everything had thorns) and chilling with the buffaloes and cows, we entered the jungle for real. We walked for almost three hours downhill, and with our muscles aching we almost (but only almost) missed walking uphill.... Then finally we came to the long awaited 'river'. Turns out it had been a bit too hyped, and was not much more then a stream. Anything would do in our sweaty state, and with no one watching we chose not to obey the 'only bathing in a sarong' -rule, and jumped in to the cold stream in our bikinis. No matter how we scrubbed we didn't feel quite clean, and putting on the same (completely soaked with sweat) clothes we now had walked in for two days, felt horrible.
Keo promised we would arrive at the Akha village, where we were to spend the night, in half an hour, so we tried to make ourselves representable by tieing our sarongs as skirts. For the first time, Keo approved of our clothing, and asked us why we had been wearing pants before. Uh, d'uh, because they are a lot more comfortable. Who would ever go trekking in a skirt?! All Lao women, was his response.
Well, we know why we didn't see any Lao women trekking. Turns out the half an hour to the village was once again spent walking vertically uphill. I do not recomend this in a sarong.
Once again soaked with sweat, we arrived at the village. The first thing we saw was a tiny school building, Keo informed us that kids here go to school when they are 6, 7 and 8 years old, after that they are done with school. Suddenly we where surrounded by kids showing us thumbs up and shouting 'Sabai Dee'.
The village was not big, consisting of 21 houses and with about 130 inhabitants. If the animals would have been counted there would for sure have been a lot more then 130 inhabitants, since wherever you looked there were pigs, dogs, chickens, goats, cows etc. running around. And even when you didn't look, you heard them...
The village is not reached in any other way then by foot (takes about 5 hours to reach the nearest road), and the path leading to the village is extreemly steep and quite difficult. Last night by the fire we had felt like we where the only people in the world. Now we felt like we where in the most remote village in the world. The villagers were also extreemly poor, and we had some trouble not knowing how to behave. We could communicate with no one, since they all spoke Akha, so the Lao we'd learnt from Keo last night was of no use to us. We could only observe the on-goings in the village, how the inhabitants behaved towards each other and the animals, how the children played and what the houses looked like.
The Akha live in houses built several meters above ground level, standing on poles. Under the houses lived the animals. The floorboards were so sparse that you could easily swipe leftovers and dirt down to the animals below. The family we stayed with had a big house with a steel roof (a couple houses had this, while the poorest families had houses with hay roofs), a big 'living room' with a fireplace and even a TV, though it was badly outdated and dusty. In the evening the generator would go on and Keo told us that someone had turned on their TV.
We have a hard time processing what we think about the village. Since we don't know, we can only wonder what the villagers think about their situation, what the teenagers want out of their lives and most importantly if they are happy. From what we saw, violence was very common. The kids were very violent towards each other, most probably because they were treated the same way by their parents. Many times we saw parents and older siblings threaten younger ones with a beating if they didn't stop crying or complaining. The parents were not so involved in the raising of their children, the older kids took care of the younger. A five-year-old carrying his three-year-old sibling was not and uncommon sight, even though he wasn't that much bigger, physically I mean. But the ones that suffered most from the abusive villagers were the animals. Though they were able to walk around freely and behave as they should (compared to for example caged chickens in Finland) they still were the ones lowest in the hierarchy. A child could lift up a pup by its tail and wave it around, only to drop it on the ground and walk away. The adults hit the pigs on the head when they came looking for food where they shouldn't and kicked the dogs that came inside. The children, of course, picked up on this and behaved the same, just more violently and just for fun. Guinea pigs (attached by strings to prevent them from running away) were popular soccer balls, for example. The sounds of hurting animals didn't seem to bother them. It sure did bother us, and we always looked or walked away when someone was abusing an animal in front of us (often, it seemed, to impress us).
For most of the day both the animals and villagers seemed rather afraid of us, (except for the kids making faces and shouting sabai dee) and we felt like complete outkasts.
When washing ourselves in our sarongs in the stream together with the other women and when sitting and drinking home made Laolao with the village men at night, we felt some sort of 'acceptance'. And when waking up at 5 a clock in the morning when the family got up and started making breakfast (we slept on their 'living room' floor. The house consisted of two rooms, the other one being the families bedroom) we felt rather privileged to be able to be part of family life, in a village that seemed to be stuck on the Middle Ages. However, when we ate first, and the family then ate our leftovers, or when 6 girls at the age of 15-18 gave us (an unwanted an painful) massage (It was part of the price, and the girls got paid, so Keo would not let us decline, although the situation made us very uncomfortable - we wanted to talk with them!) we did not feel 'part' of the village in any way. We had to try and remind ourselves that we brought money to the village, and therefore sort of did a good deed, although it didn't feel like it. Many of the villagers were sick and asked for medicine, but all we had to offer was a couple of books in Lao (which they didn't understand, since they spoke Akha..) and my 'fascinating' bracelets from H&M, which I donated to the girls in the family. (They were six girls, the oldest being 14 and the youngest 2. Their father complained about wanting a son...)
//Sophia & Hanna
After an hour or so we reached the highest hill in the region, about 1850 meters above sea level. When we started walking downhill the landscape suddenly changed, and instead of walking in low grass (with thorns, everything had thorns) and chilling with the buffaloes and cows, we entered the jungle for real. We walked for almost three hours downhill, and with our muscles aching we almost (but only almost) missed walking uphill.... Then finally we came to the long awaited 'river'. Turns out it had been a bit too hyped, and was not much more then a stream. Anything would do in our sweaty state, and with no one watching we chose not to obey the 'only bathing in a sarong' -rule, and jumped in to the cold stream in our bikinis. No matter how we scrubbed we didn't feel quite clean, and putting on the same (completely soaked with sweat) clothes we now had walked in for two days, felt horrible.
Keo promised we would arrive at the Akha village, where we were to spend the night, in half an hour, so we tried to make ourselves representable by tieing our sarongs as skirts. For the first time, Keo approved of our clothing, and asked us why we had been wearing pants before. Uh, d'uh, because they are a lot more comfortable. Who would ever go trekking in a skirt?! All Lao women, was his response.
Once again soaked with sweat, we arrived at the village. The first thing we saw was a tiny school building, Keo informed us that kids here go to school when they are 6, 7 and 8 years old, after that they are done with school. Suddenly we where surrounded by kids showing us thumbs up and shouting 'Sabai Dee'.
The village is not reached in any other way then by foot (takes about 5 hours to reach the nearest road), and the path leading to the village is extreemly steep and quite difficult. Last night by the fire we had felt like we where the only people in the world. Now we felt like we where in the most remote village in the world. The villagers were also extreemly poor, and we had some trouble not knowing how to behave. We could communicate with no one, since they all spoke Akha, so the Lao we'd learnt from Keo last night was of no use to us. We could only observe the on-goings in the village, how the inhabitants behaved towards each other and the animals, how the children played and what the houses looked like.
The Akha live in houses built several meters above ground level, standing on poles. Under the houses lived the animals. The floorboards were so sparse that you could easily swipe leftovers and dirt down to the animals below. The family we stayed with had a big house with a steel roof (a couple houses had this, while the poorest families had houses with hay roofs), a big 'living room' with a fireplace and even a TV, though it was badly outdated and dusty. In the evening the generator would go on and Keo told us that someone had turned on their TV.
We have a hard time processing what we think about the village. Since we don't know, we can only wonder what the villagers think about their situation, what the teenagers want out of their lives and most importantly if they are happy. From what we saw, violence was very common. The kids were very violent towards each other, most probably because they were treated the same way by their parents. Many times we saw parents and older siblings threaten younger ones with a beating if they didn't stop crying or complaining. The parents were not so involved in the raising of their children, the older kids took care of the younger. A five-year-old carrying his three-year-old sibling was not and uncommon sight, even though he wasn't that much bigger, physically I mean. But the ones that suffered most from the abusive villagers were the animals. Though they were able to walk around freely and behave as they should (compared to for example caged chickens in Finland) they still were the ones lowest in the hierarchy. A child could lift up a pup by its tail and wave it around, only to drop it on the ground and walk away. The adults hit the pigs on the head when they came looking for food where they shouldn't and kicked the dogs that came inside. The children, of course, picked up on this and behaved the same, just more violently and just for fun. Guinea pigs (attached by strings to prevent them from running away) were popular soccer balls, for example. The sounds of hurting animals didn't seem to bother them. It sure did bother us, and we always looked or walked away when someone was abusing an animal in front of us (often, it seemed, to impress us).
For most of the day both the animals and villagers seemed rather afraid of us, (except for the kids making faces and shouting sabai dee) and we felt like complete outkasts.
When washing ourselves in our sarongs in the stream together with the other women and when sitting and drinking home made Laolao with the village men at night, we felt some sort of 'acceptance'. And when waking up at 5 a clock in the morning when the family got up and started making breakfast (we slept on their 'living room' floor. The house consisted of two rooms, the other one being the families bedroom) we felt rather privileged to be able to be part of family life, in a village that seemed to be stuck on the Middle Ages. However, when we ate first, and the family then ate our leftovers, or when 6 girls at the age of 15-18 gave us (an unwanted an painful) massage (It was part of the price, and the girls got paid, so Keo would not let us decline, although the situation made us very uncomfortable - we wanted to talk with them!) we did not feel 'part' of the village in any way. We had to try and remind ourselves that we brought money to the village, and therefore sort of did a good deed, although it didn't feel like it. Many of the villagers were sick and asked for medicine, but all we had to offer was a couple of books in Lao (which they didn't understand, since they spoke Akha..) and my 'fascinating' bracelets from H&M, which I donated to the girls in the family. (They were six girls, the oldest being 14 and the youngest 2. Their father complained about wanting a son...)
//Sophia & Hanna
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)