Hmong basi

Thong picked me up after he finished work today (Thursday) and we took a tuk-tuk to the main market, where we caught a larger tuk-tuk (the Lao equivalent the commuter bus) to his village. He is Hmong-the Hmong are the ethnic group that the Americans recruited to fight with them in the “secret war” in Laos. As a result of this, they have been somewhat persecuted ever since. Many Hmong fled the country during or after the civil war. There is a huge Hmong diaspora on the States-mostly California and Minnesota (Minnesota???).

Anyway, we went about 40 minutes out of the City. His village is very close to the road-in most cases, this means the government has resettled them from higher ground. The Hmong do embroidery and other needlework, and since the village is on the way to one of the main waterfalls, the village relies heavily on the tourists who stop on their way back from the waterfalls.

We took a walk around the village. There are kids everywhere. They dressed in mismatched clothes and are a bit grubby, but seem very content playing with tops made from wood, sticks, bits of paper..who knows what else. They are very, very shy.

His house is very basic. It has a thatched roof, bamboo walls and a dirt floor. There is a fire in one corner for cooking. There is one chair, a couple of sleeping platforms and a sleeping area for the parents which is separated by a bamboo wall. They have electricity-and one very dim fluorescent strip bulb, and a TV. No satellite, but they do have a DVD player. When we arrived Thong’s younger brother was watching a rap music video-it was somewhat incongruent to be standing in this Lao bamboo house listening to a big black American rapper talking dirty. There is no way they understand the lyrics-thankfully.

His father is a shaman, and Thong showed me the various things in the shaman bag-various bones, a gong,with a red ribbon tied on it, and cymbal, also with a red ribbon and metal circle, about 9” across.

There was going to be a Hmong basil, and then I found out the basi was for me and Thong. What an honour. So, they started by cooking the food-4 chickens. I knew they were fresh, cause I saw them being slaughtered, defeathered and cooked. Before killing the chickens, his father picked them up, held them in his arm and did some chants over their head with a stick which was lit at the end. The birds were remarkably calm going to the slaughter. Almost like he has hypnotized them.

We sat outside by a little fire-it was chilly and very dark by 5:30. Then, we were called into the house. There was a low table set up with the cooked chickens, two eggs and rice. There were also some money that had been put on top of the chickens.


We sat on low stools by the table, with about thirty or so men scattered around the room. Then, a shaman started the ceremony. This was not Thong’s father, but another shaman. It was all in Hmong, so I have no idea of what was said (of course, I would not have understood if it was in Lao either).Hmong is a very different language from Laos-it sounds almost like a song. The shaman recited several chants and passed these white cords over our outstretched hands. At first, the palms were down, and then we had to turn our hands over, with palms facing up. When the shaman was finished, he tied a cord around each of our wrists and then all the other men also tied cords on our wrists, saying things that I believe were wishes of good luck and good fortune-that is what they sounded like, and Thong said that is what they were saying. The only woman who tied a cord on either of us was his mother. His parents were the last to tie cords on my wrists. The shaman then took a pair of scissors and cut off the ends, saying another chant/prayer.

Then, we ate rice and the chicken. Thong and I had to eat everything on our plates before the rest would start. I ate my chicken with forty people watching very quietly. The chicken was a bit stringy, but very tasty. No entrails or blood were served-I think that was, perhaps, in deference to the falang, cause they certainly don’t through any of that stuff out.

As soon as we finished, we were out of the house,and the others all started eating. His mother and two or three of the other women came out to say good-bye. She took my hands, and though I could not understand her words, I know she was thanking me for helping her son and telling me he is a good boy.

We took a motorbike back to Luang Prabang.The sky was pitch black and the stars were magnificent. An amazing experience-what a wonderful gift Thong has given me. I truly do feel blessed.

Tomorrow, it will be back to worries about the situation at Bangkok airport and Meg’s dealings with the insurance company, but for now, I am at peace.

---

---