into the hills

pai, thailand

there have been better nights' sleep. with several gaps between the bamboo reeds comprising the wall and my placement right beside it, the cool night air was a formidable obstacle. though the reeds were woven tighter on the floor beneath, their firmness eliminated several potential sleeping positions. in the window between howling dogs and singing cocks, there was maybe an hour's worth of sleep to be found. the next morning, i was tired but not alone. between the eight of us trekking for a night with a hill tribe, we could probably combine for the doctor-recommended night's rest of one individual. not that we were complaining.

we didn't sign up for comfort, though that's not to say we registered for discomfort, either. it came with the territory and the territory, we were told, came with the indigenous people to whom it has belonged for over a century. we spent the night with the lahu and finished by going in a karen village (the karen are a people. had it been singular, there would have been fewer photographs and we, most assuredly, would have worn protection.) if my trek into the past in sapa was real if not authentic, then the past two days made up for whatever local snap, crackle, and pop was lacking in the prior. no, there was no indigenous dancing. no animal sacrifice or primal incantations. there would be no exotic wardrobe.

what we did receive was a warm welcome, plenty of tea, and a room large enough that each farang could have their spread for the night. if we were not given sleep numbers and teddy bears, then our soft, pampered western bodies were better for it. the local children in the village stared at us as if we were foreigners, something not always felt on treks into cultural hinterlands. the town was without a shop, nor any other opportunity for us to shill out our baht into the local economy. it was a town, and we could stay there. we had a great guide, so we were able to learn a thing or two.

our overnight village was near inaccessible on account of the fires. it is the dry season around these parts, a time when locals burn the forest to clear and prepare valuable land for the upcoming planting season. if it sounds a bit narrow-minded to destroy something that benefits all of us (the forest) because of individual needs, you might be on to something. if you saw that it all comes back to us, you'd be getting warmer still.

they didn't always need so much land. the local people throughout northern thailand and the area known as the golden triangle have not always been subsistence farmers. they used to cultivate opium poppies, something that required a percentage of the labor and netted one more zero in their income than the present tense. we in the west decided that we didn't want opium in our backyard, so they couldn't have it in their front. nevermind that it was the cash crop for entire populations for generations. nevermind that it was going to show up on our shores and in our veins nonetheless. nevermind that it's the substance of the problem, not the substances we use to hide behind, that is the real issue.

they continue to work and not complain, because only one of those pays the bills. they'll keep the present rotation of burn, plant, harvest and add the occasional supplement provided by a visit from the farang. i'll just wish that we in the west could humanize our drug laws so that both users and primary growers are not the ones punished. it's always the middlemen that create the problems; the rest of us are just trying to get something to help us sleep.