Grief

February 9th, 2010

After a night in Oudamaxi, Dina and I headed to Luang Nam Tha. This time the trip was smooth, with only one flat tire, fixed in 20 minutes. From Luang Nam Tha we took a bus to Muong Sing, arriving at 6pm. In Muong Sing we would try to find a trekking company the next day. We had reached our destination after 4 days of busses.

By the end of Friday we had a group of four for a two-day “trek + homestay.” Dina, Ben (Australian), Chris (Austrian), and myself. Saturday morning we headed out. The first day of “trekking” consisted of walking through several villages of different ethnic minorities. The visits were brief and we mostly only interacted with the children by taking pictures. Our guide was a wonderful young woman named Phuang. She had been working in the office for the trekking “company” for the past several months, we were only the 2nd trek she had led. Her English wasn’t that limited but it was a challenge to convey our curiosity about the tribes and ask questions. So we didn’t learn very much about our surroundings, but she was really fun company.

At one village we spent awhile in the empty school “house” teaching each other phrases in our respective languages, taking turns to be the teacher in front of the blackboard. Earnestly, Phuang asked Ben, “Teach me something in Australian!”

Some of the women still wore the traditional headdresses of thick fabric and bead work. The eldest women wore traditional attire. The tribes we visited were the Akha, Yao, and one more I’ve forgotten the name of. It was nice to walk through the country and see the villages up close, instead of from a bus, and these villages did not have road access. But the experiences were quite shallow. The most time we spent was when two women invited us to sit with them on their porch. I was excited, perhaps we could ask some questions about their culture! Their spoken Lao was limited, however, and Phuang did not speak Akha. We were offered the bark of a tree wrapped in a packet of leaves that the women all chew. We all accepted and giggled as we chewed the bitter bark which left a dark red stain on our tongue and teeth. The women of the Akha chew this bark so much that their lips seem permanently stained with the red which I had at first mistaken for some type of disease. We attempted an exchange and asked Phuang to ask the women their names. Some heated conversation began between our guide and the women and then we were told that they could not tell us their names, it was rude of us to ask. That is the first time I have encountered a cultural boundary that could be crossed so easily! Something to do with spirits knowing their names and us being strangers… Our visit ended shortly after when the women began to ask us to give them money. A gift? A donation? For the bark? We were disappointed that when we each gave them 5,000kip they wanted more. We left.



The most fascinating thing I learned of the Akha culture: When a boy is of age to marry his family builds him a small house. They find a suitable girl for him and they sleep together, separate from the family, in the house for several months. If the girl does not get pregnant she returns to her family and they try again with a new girl. Only once a girl gets pregnant do they get married. I found this fascinating because it is so different from the cultures I’m familiar with. It reminded me how many differences there are in the world between customs and cultures, from casual introductions to sexual relations.

For one reason or another I had been thinking a lot about mom over the course of the day. I felt pensive as we reached the village we would be spending the night in. Upon arriving at the house we would sleep in we encountered an elderly woman with several children observing us. Within seconds I noticed how skinny she was. Her neck pulled forward from shortened muscles, her arms were skin and bone, and her cheek bones were prominent. She didn’t seem ill in any particular way and I don’t know why she appeared so weak and famished, but the image deeply upset me. When she smiled I could see the effort exerted to exude the energy. She clearly still played a role in the chores of the home and wasn’t disabled, but some illness was affecting her weight, mobility, and energy. And her movements, body, and smile reminded me too sharply of mom’s illness. I couldn’t watch her, I couldn’t interact with her. I always try hard to remember mom in the past, healthy and happy. I’ve discovered that watching television shows about hospitals, seeing death in movies, or people physically suffering in any form in reality makes me extremely emotional. Watching this emaciated woman move about in front of me was too much and I had to work to distract myself with other thoughts. I walked around the village alone.

Soon it was time for dinner and we ate together without any of the family. I had suspected that this trek would not include what I consider a legit “homestay,” but now I was relieved that it was just us. As we began to eat the village chief joined us. He was very apologetic as he explained that unfortunately they would not be able to put on the traditional dance performance we had been told we would see. “Why?” we asked. A man from the village had died today, he told us. The family had already lost their mother and now they had just lost their father in a hunting accident, they were grieving and it would be rude to hold the dance performance. This was getting too much for me. My heart ached for the children. We were asked if we perhaps wanted to give some money as a donation to the family. Of course, I thought. One of us asked, “What do they need the money for?” “Funerals are expensive,” I replied. Despite the diversity of customs that exist across cultures, one thing I’m sure of, everyone wants to be able to give their loved ones the honor of a proper ceremony and remembrance, despite any lack of wealth. We all agreed to give 20,000kip each. I went to sleep with a heavy heart.

When I woke the next morning I was excited to see two texts on my mobile from Atish. Yay!

The first one read, “Hope you are having fun. Please text me when you get this.”

The second one read, “Can I call you? I had to take Sapphire to the vet, she’s not doing so well.”

My excitement was gone. Sapphire’s sick? She seemed so healthy when I left. We had moved her to Atish’s so that he could take care of her and she seemed to love it there. Atish calls me and I learned that he took Sapphire to the emergency vet and found out that she was suffering from both a tumor in her lungs and kidney failure. How could that be possible? At 15 years old, I knew she was old but hoped she had a couple more years.

I was so upset that I couldn’t be there with her. I imagined my poor cat in a kennel with a collapsed lung and I couldn’t be there to comfort her. In combination with everything from the day before I couldn’t handle it and I broke down. My group was sweet and tried to cheer me up, but I just waited for Atish’s next call. He managed to get a hold of Dad, who was just leaving Vietnam. Sapphire couldn’t wait 24+ hours for him to get home. We continued to exchange texts and calls, and at the beginning of our trek through the forest Sapphire was put to sleep. Sapphire was with me since I was 7 years old. She was my only friend when we moved from New York to Seattle and my confidant when mom was sick. I felt horrible for not being with her, but I’m so grateful that Atish was there to show her how much she was loved.

In all, the trek was a nice experience and I enjoyed the company of my group, but it was a rough weekend. The next day on my way to Luang Prabang I shared half of my fish dinner with two skinny kittens at a roadside restaurant.