Small Glimpses of Songkran 2007 -From a Farang in an Isaan Village

It’s the Tuesday before Songkran and I am in my small Isaan village with my family preparing for the celebrations. I had been elected Papa/Boss of my family’s role in this, an honor bestowed on the eldest, or the rich (or supposed rich), head of the household. We are supplying the ‘money’ tree and a few ‘lottery’ prizes for the Songkran festival held later in the week at the Buddhist temple (Wat) in our village. It’s my job to look over the collection of money from the rest of the family to decorate the money tree (a branch decorated with ribbons and such, and elaborately folded origami type figures made from fresh new baht notes supplied by us all. Last week a list was sent around for people to pledge their amount of baht to be supplied for this. Once these lists were collected the village headman (Kamnan?) got on his reviled loudspeaker and announced the names and the amounts pledged, assuring no one could later back out of their promise as everyone in the whole damned village (and possibly Venus and Mars- the damn loudspeaker is – well – loud) now knows what they pledged. No backing out now.

Villagers and relatives are trickling into the village from all parts of the kingdom from their job/work cities they have dispersed to over the months and year since last Songkran. Busses and trains are full of the workers returning to show respect for their ancestors, Buddha, and their parents, and, to party hearty, sometimes to great excess. Here in the village though this is a lot more subdued mostly compared to the touristy areas. It can have its moments though, especially later in the evening when the guys are ‘in their cups’ so to speak. Many young women rarely seen in the village, as they’ve been off making their fortunes in the larger cities and tourist areas, arrive in small groups over the week, bearing gifts and money for their parents and relatives from money saved for just this purpose. Much face is gained during Songkran for the parents of these ladies and the ladies themselves, and of course for the young men who also travel up for the celebration. It’s an annual family gathering that most Thais do not want to miss, even if it costs them dearly in time, travel and money spent, and maybe their lives, as this is the worst time of year to travel being that there are many accidents over this holiday. There are lots of drunks driving around now. Many see their family only during this one holiday every year. It is a time of celebration and renewal, spring-cleaning of house and shrines and altars, and a chance to relax among family and friends of the villages they sprang from after a year away working hard; an annual reverse diaspora.

Having the young men and women in the village changes the face of the village from a place of mostly elderly folk and young school kids to a more diverse collection of age groups that are missing in many villages for bulk of the year. It is the New Year and time to celebrate getting through the past year’s hardships and to look forward to the next year with blessings from parents, extended family and the collected village monks, revered or reviled. For a farang (foreigner) Yank it compares with a combined Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve all done on one long weekend. Much delicious foods are consumed and plenty of fermented beverages drank. But in all, it is basically about family. Having the young adults around certainly brightens up the old village and fills the generational gap that exists due to the absence of good paying job availability, or for the women mostly, the fact they went to live with their husband’s family once wedded. It’s a joyous occasion filled with all the hilarity, love, angst, etc. that many family gatherings produce, a passion play with all the variability that humans can provide through their diverse personalities, desires, and interactions. It will produce the gossip for the following year for those left behind in the village in the bondings, clashes, approval, disappointment, love found, love lost, and all the happenstances that occur during this festive gathering or are brought to light. There will be much to talk about in the coming year over who did what to whom, who did not do what for whom, and many things that will help the bored gossipmongers relieve their boredom with their jabberings around the bottles of beer or whiskey shared after a long hot day of doing what needs to be done to survive another day in the Isaan village. The village drunks and ‘returned’ young adult shenanigans during Songkran will add their tragedies and triumphs to the pot as well; all grain for the gossip mill, true or not.

Last night (Monday) I had stayed up late, watching an earlier Christmas present DVD collection given to me by my son while I was back in the states. This is a great TV series popular now in the states called ‘Lost’. I’d never seen it, as I do not watch much TV, but my son, hip to my tastes in video, assured me I would enjoy this series. Much to my own surprise, I did. This is a great bunch of actors (for TV) playing in a really well written and thought out weekly television show. I recommend it to anyone wanting to watch something very different and skillfully acted and written. I watched the last two episodes last night and didn’t get to sleep until almost two. I’d watched the first twenty two episodes over the past month, although I had figured to watch one a week to give me a good bit of TV to watch on a weekly basis my curiosity got the better of me and I could not refrain from watching it on a much more frequent schedule. So I woke up late today, much later than usual. As I sat over my late breakfast and the previous day’s bought Bangkok Post and Nation daily newspaper, saved and unread just so I would have something to read over breakfast, I heard in the background this glorious and beautiful flute playing coming from my next door neighbor’s house. Once the ‘flute’ stopped playing there followed a wonderful voice singing, a voice of professional quality and highly trained. It was an amazing sound that brought goose bumps to my flesh through its range and inflection. Its clarity and emotion was exquisite. I thought it a CD it was so well done. When I mentioned it to my wife she told me it was the family next door’s relative come to visit for the holiday. The family next door has a couple talented sons who are accomplished guitar players and singers in their own right. Many a quiet evening I have sat over a beer on my front veranda and listened to these boys, teens really, serenade the vicinity with their music. But this sound, this music, was far and above what the lads and their friends produced while sitting around smoking a bit of aromatic ganja and drinking beers of an evening. This was the voice of an angel, and the flute a haunting sound played expertly.

I queried my wife further. “Who is playing the flute?” I made motions at my face of a flutist playing, not knowing what the word was for this in Thai or Lao. I may have known before the word for this instrument, but I find I lose bits and pieces taught me when I spend time away from Thailand and the language. The Thai/Lao words most repeated my mind can remember, but infrequently used ones my brain seems to discard as useless to retain in my already cluttered memory banks. I guess there just isn’t enough room left so my data banks clear away and delete anything deemed ‘not really necessary due to lack of usage’. I seem to be in a cycle of continuous ‘learn and forget and learn again’ until after enough times heard/learned it sticks.

My wife smiled at my question. “Not flute tilac. Man make music with his voice (actually she said ‘with his mouth’). He sings the flute.”

I was amazed at this! Not being able to see him, as I was on the opposite side of a wall hearing this music, I would have sworn it was a musical instrument being played, not mimicry of one. It was eerie listening to this ‘flute’ and realizing it was actually being produced by a human voice box. I asked my wife more about this marvelous man.

It seems he is the young nephew of the ‘Mama’ next door. Her brother’s son. He is blind, from birth, and very handsome. But, ‘in his brain’, as my wife put it, he thinks he is a lady.

“So, a he’s a katoey (transsexual)?”

My wife agreed with that description, but said he does not dress as a lady or look like a katoey.

I vowed to try to meet this man during his and my stay in the village for the Songkran celebrations. I wanted to see what sort of creature could produce these glorious sounds and songs with such perfection. Not now though, as I have yet to finish breaking my fast or to shower and shave. There’s time enough this week to arrange that.

I sat there listening to him warble like a bird and play his ‘mouth’ instruments. I got to hear him mimic a couple other instruments and sat stunned by his expertise while my wife continued washing dishes and wiggling her bum around the kitchen area.

As always, much to my pleasure, after twelve plus years now, that still excites me.

Wiggle on mia bah (crazy wife), wiggle on. Dance that Isaan lady dance for me.

(To be continued as Songkran unfolds.)


Cent
(The central Scrutinizer)

Copyright © Written in the year 2007. All rights reserved by the author.