It’s 6am. It’s predawn. Why would anyone be boarding a small van to go to a fitness park at this hour? No, we’re not going to run a marathon or even a 10K, not even a 5K. We’re on a mission.
We need to arrive before the tak bat or early morning procession of Buddhist monks from their temple. This ritual is the daily opportunity for people, local residents and foreign visitors alike, to offer alms to the orange-robed monks. The monks have no worldly possessions and rely on the generosity of others for their needs. These offerings are the only food and drink they will receive for the entire day.
The monks walk single file down the sidewalk in one direction, stopping when signaled by those offering alms. The owners of Window of Thailand have once again worked overtime, preparing dozens of food bundles for us to give to the monks. They briefly described the thoughtful selection of home cooked foodstuffs contained in each. It cleared demonstrated their care and compassion for others.
Since women are prohibited from direct contact with the male monks, we were instructed to carefully place our small wrapped packages into the center of the recipient’s food bowl. We would then kneel to receive their blessing in unison.
Once they were finished chanting, they would continue on in formation to the next person or persons, eventually returning along the same route back to the temple.
I zoomed in and framed a perfect shot of a simple and elegant bowl just as the young monk turned and started to walk away. Just a moment too late. At first, I was going to discard it. It was not the still photo I had intended to take. It still intrigues me as an unintentional “action” shot.
All the children were dressed in their finest traditional Hmong clothing for the occasion, nervously awaiting the cue to begin their cultural performance as we, the honored visitors, finished our delicious lunch of northern-style delicacies.
Once the performance began, we were treated to traditional music, song and dance by brightly costumed groups of children as well as solos by individual girls and boys.
As I edged closer to the pavilion to get closer shots, I looked down and noticed slippers casually abandoned at the doorway. I was reminded that adults and children rehearsed and prepared, investing time and effort into this event for our benefit. As soon as we left, they would change back into their regular everyday clothes and slippers, resuming their normal school day routine. The beautiful costumes would be put away until they were needed again.
Just before we departed, I watched several children running in a circle on top of raised wooden posts. After the “work” was done, they were doing what children do everywhere – playing with their friends.
First, a member of this hill tribe took us on a short walking tour of the village. The inhabitants live as they have for generations in simple huts. Families still cultivate crops of staples such as corn, rice and soybeans.
With the assistance of our guide as translator, we were able to speak with a local woman spinning thread outside hers. The thread would be used in the distinctive and intricate handmade Hmong weaving and embroidery they are known for. Of course, fine examples of this colorful work were available for purchase.
I was suddenly reminded of childhood fairy tales involving spinning wheels. A princess who pricked her finger while spinning wool into yarn, falling into a deep sleep for a hundred years. Apparently, it was just a hobby and no one was relying on her handiwork for their livelihood. A girl spinning straw into gold based on someone else’s greed until she could cleverly gain her release. Fabric is nowhere near as profitable as precious metals.
Today, machines have taken over textile manufacturing in uniform mass quantities. Garments produced by the thousands in factories are shipped all over the world. But here and now in Thailand, needlework is still done by women in a labor-intensive process with attention to detail.
Remember those young girls waiting. Patience is an important skill in this type of work. These crafts will be passed down to them from their mothers as they were from their grandmothers.
Hurry up and wait. It’s difficult to sit backstage, fully costumed and ready to go. Expecting small children to do the same is asking for patience worthy of a saint.
I spied these two little girls sitting quietly outside “in the wings”, as it were. They both turned simultaneously, casting a glance over their shoulders at several classmates. They were expending their nervous energy in a very different way, by playing a rather rough and tumble game of chase and tag.
We had come to Khun Chang Kien, a Hmong village with a prearranged purpose. The owners of a local Chiang Mai tour company, Window of Thailand, had worked with a local charity to set up our visit. The company is a family business run by three sisters and a brother-in-law. Two of the sisters, Mayuree (left) and Chintana (right) Suwawan, who spent the entire day with us are pictured here. They went out of their way to accommodate several requests and certainly exemplified the best of Thai hospitality.
We had brought reading books and school supplies to donate to the local elementary school. The school administration had several things planned for us before the donation would be officially made and formally received.
We need to arrive before the tak bat or early morning procession of Buddhist monks from their temple. This ritual is the daily opportunity for people, local residents and foreign visitors alike, to offer alms to the orange-robed monks. The monks have no worldly possessions and rely on the generosity of others for their needs. These offerings are the only food and drink they will receive for the entire day.
I zoomed in and framed a perfect shot of a simple and elegant bowl just as the young monk turned and started to walk away. Just a moment too late. At first, I was going to discard it. It was not the still photo I had intended to take. It still intrigues me as an unintentional “action” shot.
