Advertisement
Published: October 28th 2009
Edit Blog Post
My arrival back in Luang Prabang was joyous. I had previously become very close with the family that ran my guesthouse. They consisted of a husband, wife, three brothers and a cousin. The beautiful and graceful seventeen-year old wife had been pregnant with her first child and had given birth only a few days before my return. Since then the guesthouse had since turned in to one giant party central. The mother was staying at her sister-in-law’s home, just a block away, where her post-birth treatment and behavior was fascinatingly prescribed.
The guesthouse had been emptied of guests and the furniture removed from most rooms to make rooms for the hordes of relatives expected to come visit throughout the next month. Relatives and friends came from all over, and the family of the was required to host them graciously. But Lao baby showers, I soon found out, are quite different than American baby showers. Fortunately, as I was now considered a friend of the family, I was allowed to rent a room, giving me a first-row seat for the action.
When I first arrived back at the guesthouse, I didn’t know Ieung had just given birth. Luckily, the gifts
I had brought the family just happened to be perfect for celebration of a birth; a bottle of lao-lao from thirty-hours south, the island of Don Kong, believed to have the best lao-lao in the country, and fresh pineapples from the countryside. After welcoming me back and negotiating my old price for my room, I was rushed over to the sister-in-law’s home to meet the new addition to the family.
Mother and child reclined on mats laid out on a tiled floor in a big empty front room, furnished with only a few mats and a chair. Various relatives reclined around the room, keeping mama company. In the corner of the room, a cauldron of special tea had been set up atop a burning fire. Ieung was not to leave this room for at least a week following the birth and was to drink as much tea as possible and stay by the fire to regain her strength. She was to keep a heating pad on her stomach. Other women bustled around, keeping the fire stoked, bringing Ieung fresh tea, caring for the baby. The men lay in repose, playing cards, laughing and smoking. Ieung was exhausted but happy.
It seemed nice that she was never alone, that she had so much company after the birth, but she may have just wanted to be left alone, to be allowed to do what she wanted apart from societal expectations. Months after the birth, she was still under certain regulations, required to restrict her walking, to refrain from eating certain meats and fruits.
Back at the guesthouse, the real party was going on, 24/7. The first time I opened the door to a room and found a circle of relatives playing cards, gambling, smoking, drinking and eating, I was pretty surprised. But after awhile, I came to expect it. Day or night, the partying continued; sometimes all night, and sometimes all day. The winnings from the games were supposed to be reserved for the baby’s future, but after the costs for the hospitality were subtracted, I can’t imagine there was much money left to reserve. The eating and drinking was endless. Someone was always in the kitchen preparing food, or going out to the store for more beer or whisky. I felt like the luckiest guest in town to be witness to this fabulous, post-birth, month-long celebration. I never played
cards, I couldn’t understand the game they were playing, but I often watched and drank and ate. Some guests stayed for days, sleeping in beds still remaining in some of the rooms, spending their waking hours gambling and carousing. Other guests just stopped by for an afternoon, visited the baby, gambled politely, and left. I felt bad that Ieung was missing all the fun, forced to remain constantly resting, a block away. But maybe she was glad she didn’t have to play host to all these guests in her tired state.
The bar re-opened for the European Cup, a big soccer tournament, and I happily began working again. (Many visitors to Laos are European and watching soccer is a huge pasttime in Europe.) As the games were broadcast from Europe, they began at 11 PM and 1 AM Lao time. These were late, but rowdy and fun nights. The bar was packed with foreigners, and although the Lao police gave us some leeway with the town curfew for the occasion, we still had to close and lock the wooden front doors around 1 AM, giving the illusion we were closed. Sometimes I had to kick customers out because they
didn't want to leave, they were having so much fun. I think I actually closed the bar at 4 AM, six or seven nights in a row.
Next blog...my boyfriend arrives from the US.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.04s; Tpl: 0.013s; cc: 8; qc: 22; dbt: 0.02s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
Kesone
non-member comment
Excellent Job
Hi Britt! I have to acknowledge the excellent work you did here.