Village of the Gujjars

The following morning, the hotel owner drove me to a small village where some semi-–nomadic Gujjars stay for the winter.  The tiny road  took us past some crude shelters made out of stone, logs, and grasses -  the type of dwelling the Gujjar tribe (one of the largest ethnic tribes in Kashmir) used to build.  The house we visited was made out of brick and its interior covered with a smooth layer of mud.  With the parents away at the market, a young boy promptly gave us some tea.  A bit later,  a woman came in.  I admired  the traditional embroidered hat that she wore. Small, tight braids similar to that worn by African American people framed her face, a style typical of the Gujjars. In a couple months, the family would make their way up into the mountains where they would graze their sheep. With the mountains full of flowers and green grass, what a beautiful surrounding these shepherds must have in the summer!

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A Walk Through Doi Chaang Village

Before we left Doi Chaang, I had a chance to walk through a bit of this hillside village. Homes were very close to each other, with no apparent delineation between where one yard ended and the other began. Most of the homes were built out of wood with a sloped roof constructed of straight or corrugated metal. Some roofs were of a similar style, but constructed of thatch. Windows were small and sparse; many were still shuttered from the night. Tall stilts (some were rectangular columns made out of concrete while others were out of wood) permitted one part to be level with the road and the other to overlook the steep hillside. To get to the main level, one might have to climb a set of wooden (or bamboo) stairs. On the lower stilt level, one portion was often enclosed, with the other open for storage, a place to sit under, etc. Chickens ran freely through the dirt around the homes and onto the steep road. Children played a form of hopscotch on the quieter roads. The dirt around the plastic piping faucet in the yard was wet, with water recently gathered for washing or cooking. Chilies and what looked like halves of bananas dried in shallow woven platters on some rooftops.

Trucks and motorcycles maneuvered their way up and down the steep, winding roads. Vendors also took advantage of the versatile motorcycle, loading woven bags with vegetable, fruits, and bamboo-filled sticky rice. Women carried children tied to their backs with a piece of cloth, just as they had done in West Africa. Some men were already heading up the hill with tools used for the field. Most men, though, gathered on the porches, sipping tea, chewing paan, and engaging in lively discussions.

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More about the Akha Hill Tribe

Here are some things Tee told me about the Akha people: The Akha hill tribe people are originally from China who then moved to Burma (due to political and human rights issues), with some coming to Thailand as refugees. Currently about 60-80,000 Akha people live in Thailand and over 200,000 in Burma. Four generations of his family have lived in Thailand. Tee expressed concern over the disappearance of the Akha culture, particularly with the young generations. Tee’s own nephews and nieces do not know how to speak the Akha language, as Thai is mandated to be the language of instruction at school. Like many Akha familes, Tee’s family is Christian. He feels that a deep reverence for nature (influenced by the Akha tribe’s traditional animist religion) should still be followed. Through a radio program at the college where Tee teaches, he seeks to have the different hill tribes hear talks in their own language, as well as discussing important topics.

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First Night in an Akha Village

On the first night of my hill tribe tour, I stayed at the family home of Tee, the man from the Akha tribe who was taking me around. His village of Kong pa Kam (meaning “hot spring”) was located about 40 km south of Chiang Rai. About 98 families (Akha hill tribe) lived in the village. Tee’s parents, brother, and the brother’s family lived in the house. The front of the house looked more finished and modern (even had a hot shower, computer and TV). The kitchen was dark, made of cement, and very simple. Cooking was mainly over a fire with ashes. Several women helped prepare the meal, which included some greens, rice, fish, bamboo shoots, fresh chili peppers, mangoes, watermelon, ground dried soybeans with chilies, and pork soup with greens. Eating was done with chopsticks; I’m not sure what I feel more awkward with – eating with my fingers (India) or with chopsticks (Thailand). Later we had tea over a campfire, whose heat source came partly from bamboo pieces. The fire felt rather nice in the cool evening as we sat on low stools whose seats were woven out of bamboo strips by Tee’s father. In the open-air bamboo structure right next to the fire, one could see the large stack of woven chicken egg-laying baskets Tee’s father was making for a large order. Only when it got too dark did Tee’s father stop cutting and preparing bamboo strips that would be used for more baskets.

On the farm they had many chickens (the roosters crowed incessantly, which was particularly not welcomed in the wee hours of the morning). A large bamboo open-air shed was ready for several pigs, but none were in the pens at the moment. Various crops were grown. Tee pointed out the grapes (for eating) fields in the distance. In a simple shed there was a tractor and a truck.

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Toda Tribe, Ooty

Climbing up a hill past some immensely tall trees with flowing, extending roots, we reached a house with colorful laundry hanging outside. An Indian woman and her daughter were there, so I asked her where we might find the Todas, a tribal group located in the region. She explained that she was a Toda and directed us to the gate where we could see more people of her tribe. Rather quickly, we were met by a Toda man, dressed in a dhoti and plaid shirt. Nearby, other men were dressed similarly – certainly not the traditional Toda costumes of thick white woven shawls striped with red and black as pictured in the guidebook. Similarly, the homes were also of a more modern type, built of concrete, painted in bright colors, and containing satellite dishes on top. We obviously were not going to get an authentic experience here.

Thankfully, there was at least a traditional 100-yr old barrel-shaped temple made out of bamboo, grass and cane available for us to see. The only opening was a very small door (no visitors allowed). Symbols on the front included the sun, moon, and a buffalo. A short distance away was a fenced in area, containing a very cute baby Toda buffalo with long ears and light brown shaggy fur. The buffalo are revered in Toda culture and are also used for their milk, which is consumed in vast quantities. Next to the pen was another barrel shaped hut and a square one made out of mud. Walking towards the man’s home, he pointed out his father going up the hill, wearing the traditional shawl. In the man’s nicely furnished bright pink home, he showed us some of the shawls, scarves, and vest all in the creamy white wool with red and black embroidered motifs. Spotting a photo of his wife (with the characteristic hair ringlets) and child, I was glad to hear that their child was being exposed to Toda traditional culture, despite the outward embracement of modern life.

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Saliasahi Tribal Village

Before finishing our journey, the taxi driver took me to a nearby tribal village. Just driving up the tiny dirt road to the village, I could tell it was going to be a poor village. Homes were small and simple, many made from mud brick and thatched roofs. Many of the villagers were not quite sure what to make of me; I suspect that many (particularly the kids) had not had much if any contact with white people. I didn’t feel comfortable in taking photos of the village itself and I could tell many of the villagers weren’t the type who would want their photos taken either. A few were willing though. I wished that they would have looked more “tribal,” but I couldn’t ask them to dress into something that wasn’t part of who they were. Alas, I wouldn’t see the colorful tribal people so famous in other parts of Orissa. As I walked past a rather high wall, one woman poked her head out and gestured for me to take her photo. A rather wild-looking woman who appeared to have cataracts joined her, both eager to see their photos. I did get some smiles and giggles, some curious onlookers, and those who excitedly showed off their photos to others. That in itself is worth it.

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