Anyone Up for a Game of Spin the Duck Head?

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I was in a friend’s village a few weeks ago, at his parent’s house. He now lives in town, studying and working. A group of twenty of us had left the wedding we’d come to attend nearby because it was blazing hot, over one-hundred, and the wedding was stuffy and loud, despite being outdoors. It was located in a tiny space, just next to a dirt road, before the land descended downhill in to the river. About one hundred people were stuffed in to this space, drinking beer from plastic cups, eating strange meats in gravy, circle dancing to Lao music blaring out of speakers too close and too loud. The best part was probably when the groom's sponsor, a European man in his seventies, took the stage to give a speech, which continued on, and on, in English. There were probably three people at the wedding who spoke English. The sponsor didn't seem to notice. Eventually, the lead singer had to pry the microphone from the sponsor's hands. (Sponsor's are very common here in Laos. A tourist will meet a poor Lao kid who wants to go to school, and become the kid's sponsor for education, often also becoming a close friend. The sponsor might want to pay for their kid's wedding too, as in this case.)

But after two hours at the party, we’d headed to my friend’s village, just next door, changed out of our fancy clothes and run down the hill to jump in to the cool, refreshing river. It was heavenly. After cooling off, we’d headed back up the hill to start an after-party in my friend’s family home. It didn’t appear that he’d asked for permission, but his parents didn’t seem to mind that twenty young adults had invaded their home on a Sunday to throw a party. Someone went to buy beers and ice, and two ducks were caught. My pleas of, “Why don’t we eat vegetables?” were ignored. Apparently it’s not a Sunday after-party without fresh duck. And being in a small village, you can’t just run in to the local supermarket for some already butchered and de-boned duck. Oh no. You want duck, you kill a duck. There’s plenty of them around; just grab one and pay the owner.

Luckily, the Lao friends I was with had plenty of experience butchering ducks. Growing up in the US, there wasn’t much of a connection between a live animal and the “boneless” meat hygienically packaged in the supermarket. But in Laos, people are familiar with butchering their own meat. They know that the meat they eat comes from an animal walking around their yard. The butchering process is generally so far away from the meat I eat at home, that I never became desensitized to the killing of animals, the way Lao people are. My friends gain much amazement from watching my horror as the duck is held, its throat slit, the blood drained, the feathers plucked, the meat chopped in to small pieces, the insides dissected, cleaned and divided. For my friends, it’s just chopping up a duck. They’ve done it a hundred times. I’ve probably eaten duck thirty times, but never killed the duck myself. We don’t know how good we have it in the US. But the Lao don’t seem to mind; they’re used to it.

Unfortunately, my friends didn’t seem to be as aware or concerned about hygiene as I was. There was little hand washing, before or after butchering, and when it did occur there was no soap employed. Dishes containing raw meat were rinsed then refilled with cooked meat. Bloody knives were wiped upon dirt or grass. Bloody fingers cooked the meat. As usual when visiting a village, I commanded myself to let go of these silly western worries and enjoy. The Lao usually don’t get sick from eating and they do this all the time! If I got sick it would just make my stomach stronger in the long run, right?

My friends made a nice marinade of garlic, chili and lemongrass for the duck to be barbequed. This meat was then grilled until it became leather. Other pieces of duck were reserved with the blood for a watery, bloody, boney soup. Lao also don’t mind bones, so while I would choose to cut all the meat off the bones, the Lao just chop away, bones and all. Then you’ve got to gnaw the meat off those bones once their barbequed or pull them out of your bloody soup to gnaw them. Not my idea of a good time, but I’m sure my view is strongly influenced by my bone-free upbringing. I’m spoiled. I mostly stuck to the sticky rice, so much more delicious in the countryside, as its always prepared the traditional way, over a wood fire. But my friend noticed I wasn’t eating a lot of the duck, and quietly went off to buy some eggs, which he had his mom scramble up. Eggs are always superb in the countryside as well, incredibly fresh, and so nice with fresh, hot sticky rice. Always a dependable country staple when the meat options prove too fierce. Although, eating in villages is generally fascinating, as country people are incredibly creative with wild vegetables, preparing mushrooms, bamboo, river weed or ferns in to delectable, light, one ingredient side-dishes; perfect, again, with fresh sticky rice.

But my favorite part of this party came after we’d finished eating and my friends started playing ‘spin-the-duck-head’. Each duck head was put in between two plates. Someone then shook the plates and then placed the plates down upon the ground. When the top plate was removed, the duck head would be pointing at one person, who then had to drink a shot of beer or lao-lao. By the time we played this game, everyone had already drank quite a lot of beer at the wedding, and at this after-party after. So this game entailed a lot of hysterical shrieking and laughter, and after about an hour had dwindled down to four willing participants, with even louder shrieking as they were forced to drink almost continuously. A lot of living room dancing to modern hip-hop and classic Lao ballads followed this game.

Around five, everyone started to prepare for the hour drive back to town. There was no talk of the fact that everyone was very drunk. The host, my friend, wouldn’t let anyone leave without taking another shot of beer, as that is considered good etiquette. I broached the subject of drunk driving with numerous people but no one seemed concerned. Some people tried to convince me they weren’t drunk. Others told me they could drive better drunk. I tried to convince them it was dangerous, and they should wait to drive until they were sober. Nobody listened to me.

Many Lao people who left Laos thirty years ago have begun returning to Laos to visit or to start businesses. It’s interesting to see the different types of people returning. One friend left Laos as a baby, so she has no memory of the country or the language. Yet she grew up in California, in a Lao community, speaking Lao and English, going to Lao traditional events and community activities. So she speaks perfect Lao and feels fairly at home here in Laos, despite only coming here for the first time at the age of thirty-two. You’d barely know if not for her different clothing that she’d ever left. She loves it here.

Two other young women, around twenty-five years old, have also just come to Laos for the first time. Their father left the country thirty-years ago, and didn’t come back until a few years ago. He just brought his daughters back. But these daughters have an American mother and didn’t grow up surrounded by Lao, in a Lao community in the US. They never learned to speak Lao. They don’t look Lao. Their return to Laos is very different than that first friend. It doesn’t feel like something familiar to them. It is foreign, they don’t understand the people or the culture and they can‘t speak the language.

Extramarital activities are normal here in Laos. Many men visit prostitutes, especially before marriage but even after they’re married. Many married men have mia noy, translated as little wife, and meaning girlfriend. Many women also have boyfriends, plus men on the side. These extra relations are not talked about, but are expected, and may function as a way to keep marriages together. People can have their fun but the stability of the married couple is maintained. It’s an interesting contrast to the conservative traditions expecting young people to abstain from sex before marriage. More and more young people are having sex before marriage, but if caught by their parents, they are sometimes forced to marry this casual partner. Many young people are forced in to marriage early, either because they want to have sex, have had sex or their families force them to settle down. Marriages here are a daily occurrence, generally with brides and grooms that seem to me far too young.

There’s been a chicken pox epidemic here lately, with child after child contracting it. For some reason, the anti-itch cream used to treat this illness is a purple dye. Parents put the cream on each of their children’s spots to prevent the child from itching. So you see purple spotted children all over town. And this dye lasts, after the chicken pox has gone away, the child is left with fading purple spots. If the child had pox on their scalp, the child is left with dyed purple hair. It’s ridiculous. Why did someone invent an anti-itch cream and add purple dye? Was the purple dye really integral to the anti-itch recipe? The purple fades away after about three weeks.

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Photos

My Lao party attire
in front of my friend's family home - a really nice home by village standards. Funny, the contrast of the fancy outfit to the dusty town.

Bride on the left
walking around pouring shots of Johnny Walker for the guests

The butchering
cleaning the intestines, chopping the parts, and the conserved blood

Comments

[Eric]

I enjoyed your Laos post. I have always wanted to go there. My blog is looking for travel photos. If you have the time, email us some at [e-mail] or check us out at dirty-hippies.blogspot.com. Continued fun on your travels, Eric

[papa]

Tofu anyone?