Puppies and love... Puppy love
With Huoy Pakoot. With my homestay family. And with a puppy named Polo.
In the two weeks I have only confirmed the suspicion I had in my first week. I absolutely, whole-heartedly love this place. The people. The way of life. The simplicity.
As I sit here on the rough wood of the porch to my hut I can see my host family, skirts around hitched to their knees as 4 of them climb a tree. Mothers and daughters wielding machetes harvesting something. I can hear giggles and the sound of branches snapping. Meanwhile just in front of my porch two other daughters play in the dirt, a game involving squares carved into the soil. The sounds of their feet landing on the soft earth mix with their voices as they count and laugh. Further away I can hear the sound of cooking, the repetitive hum of chopping. All the while hens are tending to their tweeting needy chicks and pigs grunt as they waddle in search of food.
Its bliss.
And as I feared, another week has flown by. Its funny, after the first tough week of finding my feet, the second week made me feel like I’d been here forever, and my third week only strengthened that feeling. No longer did villagers look at me like I was a stranger. No longer was I the first to say “De blu!” (hello!). No longer do I wake to the sound of the roosters at 4.30am.
The second week was much the same on project- data collection, elephant health checks, hikes in the heat. But when I wasn’t poking elephant poop or tagging plants the elephants ate I was building friendships with fellow volunteers and my little brother Miles, who came to join me on this project. This is one of those projects where you spend all your time together, when you aren’t with your homestay, you’re at base hut reading, chatting, doing chores.
I love spending this much time with people. Miles and I had a great time joking around, and I can say hand on heart that it restored in me a sense of family. Miles, you have turned into a lovely young man, thank you for coming out, and remember what matters.
And other than building friendships with fellow volunteers I made huge progress with the mahouts. The people of the village are soft spoken, with kind eyes and initially extremely shy. I made it my mission to wiggle my way in with the mahouts.
Every time I see them, I’ll shout their name and wave almost violently and only once I have their eye contact will I say “de blu!”. Padie Saiee, the oldest of the mahouts, has always humoured me. Always giving me a smile and now a high five when I gesture (which makes him smile even wider), but the others were harder to crack.
Jor Doh is a Burmese refugee. And he is really shy. Some days, bad hair days, you’ll find him with a shirt wrapped around his head, the neck hole exposing his steely eyes. Other days he’ll rock a baseball cap with his dyed hair poking out. Now he knows I’ll just keep saying his name till he looks at me to greet him. He knows I’ll give him a high five to say thanks at the end of a days work. He knows I want to be his friend.
And then there is Boon Chew. The 14 year old kid. I have a soft spot for Boon Chew. Maybe its his sweet smile, or the way he works with Mah Nah. Either way, I made it my mission last week to make Boon Chew my friend. And I think it worked. Every time I see him, I almost screech his name in delight, and he’ll ignore me for a while, smiling that smile, till I’m almost hoarse, then he’ll look me in the eye and make a face, or if he’s close enough punch me in the arm.
So I currently stand at 3 out of 4. Ree Rah still pretends like I don’t exist (no joke, I was sitting up at top shop last night and he walked past and I shouted his name and waved (mind you he was about 2 metres away from me) and he just kept walking, never lifting his gaze. And the other day when I went to give each of the mahouts a flower (something I do everyday without fail now) he actually ran away from me, sprinting, never looking back, disappearing down the hill to the elephants. But I understand, he’s shy. But I’ve got two more weeks.
But aside from the mahouts, who I have come to really love, this place resonates a certain comfort and homeliness I can’t fully describe with words. But I’m quickly learning that sometimes words aren’t needed.
Some of the best moments I’ve had since leaving home have been here, shared with people who speak a language I don’t understand, in a culture so far removed from what I know.
Each night I have dinner at my homestay house, a larger wooden house next to my little hut, always full of children playing. I bring a watermelon or some fruit for the kids, and sit on my own on a well laid out mat for dinner, rice, and a variety of egg and stir fried vegetables. I eat alone, its the culture here, I’m a guest, and they will eat after. But invariably Ya Ya, the gorgeous little one year old, will waddle over, arms out stretched. I always give her something to gnaw on. The other kids will be nearby drawing on the chalkboard I bring to dinner with me each night.
The house always has people coming and going, and there are so many daughter (7 in total) and I wondered who’s child was who’s. So I just asked, I got out a piece of paper and we worked through the family tree. The ‘poo’ and ‘pee’ (Grandpa and Grandma) are still alive, I see the Grandmother chopping firewood most days, wielding the axe with zeal. Its interesting, here once you are a grandparent you have essentially lost your name. The process begins when you have a child, for example, Ampon is the mother or Ya Ya, but with time she will be known as Ya Ya’s mother (Moh Ya Ya).
I loved the process, everyone was gathered around, going through who was the child of who, and as they said the name I’d repeat- often accidentally with the wrong tone, causing a riot of laughter. On other night I show them videos of the elephants. The elephants bathing, the elephants scoffing bananas, the elephants foraging. But despite what we do while I eat my dinner, I always leave smiling. My home stay family is just so kind, and I’ve really come to love the kids. They remind me how important it is to be present, all you have is right now.
Some days I wander the village in the afternoon. A week ago I was wandering with Sateesh and a woman invited us into her house, after a brief nod to each other we followed. We climbed the steps to her raised house and made ourselves comfortable. I could see pig food boiling on the open fire (pigs are fed well here!) as Pee (Grandma) poured us cold water and smiled at us. We exchanged some words (Sateesh’s Pakinyoh is pretty good) but really the joy lay in just being in each others company. As we left they asked us to come back, and the next day I did. I brought a friendship bracelet for each of them. I sat there, this time with two other volunteers, smiling in almost silence. Again, just enjoying the rawness of human company.
And just yesterday, Saturday, a couple of us decided to ask a villager to take us fishing. Sinthow said he’d take us. He’s a lovely 18 year old mahout. His brother is with their elephant while he comes back to help his family in the village. His name means lion and he too has a winning smile. We set off in the morning heat, and carved off the road down to the stream. He pulled out a fishing net, teaching me how to hold it and throw it. Time and time again he’d cast it into the pools (he laughed so much when one of us tried to do it that we just let him do it) and we’d clamber in, fully dressed, with diving masks on to search out any tiny fish that might have been caught in his throw. When we first arrived he caught a tiny little fish, and we thought, meh, no big deal. That 2 inch fish turned out to be the biggest of the 5 we caught in over 2 hours of “fishing”. But again, he speaks minimal English, and yet it was a great morning. We joked the whole time, without me realising Sinthow filled my bag with rocks on the walk back, he taught me how to punch and we made a handshake.
And sometimes its not even the human company. Upon arrival I vowed not to get attached to any of the dogs here, too many, and I had other animals I was here for. But sure enough, a young pup named Polo wormed his way into my heart. When I first got here he was small enough to put in my overalls with me (probably the reason I got fleas) and I’d prance around the village, pup in overalls. But now, he’s grown but we still share everything together. He gets half my breakfast and lunch, and he follows me home at night. He greets me in the morning, running up the steps to for a belly scratch. And last night he followed me up the hill so I could buy an ice cream, sitting at my feet as I enjoyed it in the warm evening air. He is my baby and I love him. His cute little face reminds me that all life, and company, is precious.
So as I said in my first blog. I came for the elephants (which by the way are doing just fine!) but its the community that I will dream of when I leave this place. The people and their soft smiles. The children and their bright eyes. The mahouts and their shyness.
So, it happened. I fell in love. And really, I can’t think of a better more deserving place or community to share my love with.
0 comments:
Post a Comment