vaga #4 /3 Laa and Xixi

This photo is the best summary of my narration and its culture; cheerful, generously welcoming, Xixi, with her arms open as always.

Part III

 Ta Van, my first village that I visited in Asia 40 km from Sapa, my motivation was to meet an ethnic group dedicated to textile crafts. From Sapa you arrive by motorcycle taxi and the first shock is that they force you to put on a helmet, I look at the helmet Ugh with stinky hair stuck inside, I did not put it on, and he did not leave, zero communication, I had to put it on as loosely as I could, and he didn’t start the bike, I was resigned ... …. And welcomed the lice …… !!!!! Luckily the situation has not been repeated, I have defeated lice. It was a hamlet, and they had told me that I could sleep in a “family stay”  who knew what that was …… I deduced I would stay with a family, it will be… !!!!  As I got off the motorcycle, women and children came to me to sell handicrafts, I didn't pay attention to anyone, I had to find the “family stay” and secure my bed, I was open to anything and with time I learned to discern the best. There were two, one full, the other on the side where I found a place that I had I seen at the entrance to the hamlet,  I never use the consultation LP on a daily basis, but roughly for the interesting areas but no more than that, the rest I discover for myself and for various reasons, all my life I have travelled without logistical support and the other is that I always feel that I have different concerns than others. So the experiences range from disasterous to wonderful, never reported in travel books. I tell you this because later I learned that in the interior in the foothills there were many more good “family stays”, some with the option of a private room and bathroom. 

Ta Van, the hamlet

I grabbed the first thing I could, it was the most radical house that I have laid my bones on, because of its precariousness or lack of intimacy in an environment with mattresses on the floor and the occasional curtain, it is worth mentioning because four days earlier I had come from the resort of Halong Bay, the other end of the pendulum. Once settled, I went out to the street, and again I was accosted by children and women  trying to sell me something, there were about 8 women and 10 children and when they saw that I was not a buyer at all they sat on the pavement to continue embroidering, As I said before, their hands never rest and the children went back to their games the first was a type of Hopscotch and the other was jumping elastic. They speak enough English to sell their crafts. I was so amazed especially by their smiles, so welcoming, so transparent, their curiosity was unstoppable, asking me everything, where I come from, how old I am, about my husband, the children etc…. I approached two women who were together embroidering. A very pretty older one, and the  other a young woman, we had a long conversation, and they explained their crafts to me, I didn't stop questioning them and because I know something about the techniques I could ask them for details, which made them happy about much of my genuine interest and of feeling my admiration for their work. Both of the Hom'g ethnic group (black) because there are more, and they differ by the colours of the clothes, theirs are black and dark purple. Xixi, the oldest was over 70 years old, with clear traces of her heritage from European colonisation, blue eyes and light hair, everyone commented that she was the most beautiful in the county, yes she was  1.45 metre tall. She had been through 3 wars; liberation of the French colony, civil war between the north and south and the Vietnam War with the Americans as well as the invasion of the Japanese on two occasions. Three wars, great famines and her face reflects an endless joy, we shared for weeks and always smiling. Young Laa, 33 years old, with 4 children between 10 and 2 years old. Very much poorer than Xixi, the old woman belonged to her clan, well-formed, many years of work, she had more than one house, many animals and land. While Laa,  did not live in a family clan, but alone in her house. The advantages of living in the clan, which is the most common, those who are patriarchal, where men bring their wives, and live in different houses, the rest all in the common area, it is the only way to overcome poverty, everyone contributes  everything over everything, taking care of children, grandparents, and all have diversified jobs. If the husband dies, his brother will take care of the family.

In that first conversation I asked her about the dyeing of the indigo colour, that colour has always fascinated me, it might be that in Chile there is nothing like it and its peculiar blue colour with the most infinite variety of tones, they are really wonderful. They explained to me that they take it from a plant and the entire dyeing process, they asked me if I wanted to see the plant, my answer is not necessary to write down. We started walking up the hill, passing through the courtyards of several houses, rice fields, and forests until we found the plant. The pictures say everything. We arranged to meet the next day when they would show me the rest of the dyeing process. I was impressed by the similarity of the work of my Mayan friends and told them how they are so similar and on the other side of the world. It occurred to me to show them photos of their crafts, clothes, embroidery, colours, and even myself weaving. Their reactions were impressive, they kept looking at the photos, and then they made me show them to their artisan friends many times with the same result. Thus began our friendship.

We set out in search of the plant that gives the indigo colour, crossing houses, bamboo forests and rice fields, Xixi in the photos and her constant welcoming smile, always ready for the photoshoot. 

mist and cold was what there was

Laa, in her most spontaneous expression, invited me to have lunch at her house PLOP !!! the next day and she would show me the dyeing processes, however, she had nothing to show me  at all, we would go after lunch where someone who has the dyes and does more things.

My first lunch with Laa, the first of several more, I was unable to absorb it all when I entered her house. Trying with the little way of communicating to follow as well as possible what I should do. What did I think? Besides being so excited by what I was experiencing, I thought I was so lucky to get to know those lives in intimacy, to realise that the precariousness of communication was not an impediment to sharing, because the invitations did not stop, I had the opportunity to get to know their routine, houses, meals, children, relatives, to feel the great pride of their race and the buffalo who  they introduced to me.  They used it to plough rice, and they exchanged it as a loan for food. I thought of how much generosity I felt coming from them, and how poor they were with so little to offer. It was the poorest family I have ever met in my life, and she was always smiling. That lunch affected me, I realised how easy it was to integrate myself, to be welcomed,  even by the poorest of the poor, to see in myself as open, simple and happy. things that are perceived and it always turned out to be mutual, because those same common things  created the connections. Here was added my love for crafts, my open admiration for them and their work, and since I have full knowledge of artisan work, its endless hours of labour, the mastery that is behind it, refined by centuries and know of the lack of recognition in general by people who make it clear when they ask for discounts on their products, ignoring their endless hours of work. 

In my resort  with minus 5 stars but with 1 “sun”, because I could have breakfast with eggs and not rice, the neighbouring mattress mates who were young Englishmen had been there for a week they asked me; How? On the second day they invited the women to lunch, they had hardly had any contact with the culture, they just passed through as some other foreigners do. There I also began to realise that travelling alone, as an older woman, coming from a country that they have never heard opens doors, they lower their guard and curiosity kills them …….

The next day Laa picked me up for the "family stay" at around twelve, she told me she would buy something about buffalo for lunch, she did it in the past, she stopped at a table on the street that sold gut-type things on a board, I discreetly and obviously did not want to find out about things, or how they were sold, which I do know looked creepy. I started to feel my stomach tightening… .. !!!! We walked about 15 minutes up the hill, we arrived at her house, 3 of her children followed us, the oldest at the entrance of the village waiting to sell some handicrafts, then she appeared at lunchtime. The afternoon we met for me was such an impression that I experienced it when I went to a local shop to buy cigarettes I saw some 5-litre drums of oil, unconsciously I bought two, one for each, and I arrived with my contribution to lunch, but I never thought the logical things of bringing things for lunch. I was still astonished.

Laa's house, big, spacious and the buffalo passing by its entrance

She showed me her two rooms, which consisted of the house, a dirt floor, the photos describe it better than my words. She began to prepare a small fire in the centre of one of the rooms, the room that served for everything. In an old black pot she began to throw unknown vegetables, I sat on a stool two centimetres from the ground, I made the 2-year-old girl laugh by pulling faces while she cooked. We ate sitting next to the fire at a very low table, with about 5 bowls in the centre with the vegetables and the buffalo, the rice was brought from the electric rice cooker, the room had light with two plugs, one to charge the cell phone, another for the rice cooker and a bulb in the common part. What she bought from buffalo,  was a by-product, it is a luxury, she did it for me. She was animated and cheerful, gave me the names of the vegetables, I deduced that they take them from the fields, She did not have an orchard, only two chickens, and it was common to stock up from the nature of the environment, they literally go out to look for a couple of leaves in the mountains and cook them. That was where I learned to swallow without chewing and to become a master with chopsticks, it is the only cutlery they use. At the end of the meal she took a white liquid out of a rather dirty drum, she served  it in a tiny glass, it was rice alcohol, she even served the two-year-old child. She cooked the right amount for lunch, and repeated it at night all over again. She invited me to lunch every day, I delicately eluded her almost every time, no, not wanting to, but because our conversations were exhausting, putting so much effort into understanding each other, concentrating a thousand times on each gesture, articulation, although always accompanied by laughter even at the things that we did not understand with those,  we laughed more because we knew that we did not understand each other at all, In addition to feeling that she was spending more on food, so I would let myself drop in at her home avoiding lunch times, sometimes I would hide in the 'family stay' without going out because she was waiting for me outside to take me to her house, I could not always refuse, it would be misunderstood. With Xixi, it was the same, she told me, "today at Laa, tomorrow at my house." The last lunch was the most difficult, because the husband was there with his two brothers, the men did not speak any English, nor were they interested, they entered without saying hello, no gestures of kindness, one feels a rejection of the foreigner, and therefore against  me, she apologised to me. The women who sell handicrafts or sell lunch in little stalls, English is essential and their contact with foreigners is relaxed. That day we ate in the other room, on the low table, the rice alcohol ran all the time, Laa was uncomfortable, having to attend to family members and attend to me in conversation or explain things to me. The food varied because it was more abundant for the men. All huddled around the 2 x 2 table, they gobbled their food, drank and talked loudly, I got a smirk from the husband when I accepted rice liquor, and that was it.

It's two large rooms, made of woven bamboo walls, but they were falling apart, full of cracks, and it was zero degrees cold, there were sacks of rice, charcoal, a bed for 6, a pile of clothes, a large drum of water,  several buckets, 2 pots, a kettle, a thermos, plates, low stools, a short and very low table, and I saw nothing else because there was nothing else. The fire is prepared for food and goes out during the day and that was incomprehensible to me because of the cold, but there is nothing extra not even firewood.

the indigo plant, coloured juice comes out when rubbed, the tones that they take out in the dyed threads are seen.

The lunch with Xixi was different, only she and the husband of about 70, and he had much less interest in looking at me, he also showed his discomfort in my presence. The cooking routine and the same menu, here were high chairs, I think for the old man who had bad legs. Often, while she was cooking, and I was entertaining the children, one day it occurred to me to show them some videos of funny monkeys that I had taken in Costa Rica,  BINGO !!!!  a success, they laughed and looked at it over and over again, then I continued showing them my donkeys, Moon and Honey I had them in my house for about 10 years they were part of the family and telling them they were mine made such an impression on them, they also did not know about the existence of donkeys and their ears and loud braying made them laugh. So at Xixi's house with some children who were her grandchildren, I did the same, but the difference was that the grandfather approached because of the uproar, and I was showing him the videos there, we became friends, his best smile without a tooth in his mouth, and goodbyes with big hand gestures. What a wonderful technology that serves to bring laughter to adults and children ..... and the greatest grace is that I am learning to do better every time.

Xixi's house, the photos are dark, the houses have no windows, only the access door, she has 3 rooms, kitchen, common room and a small bedroom the rest the same, nothing, and the grandfather’s pipe, he sits at the entrance and smokes all day.

 The Chinese New Year had arrived, the night is celebrated with a specific dinner, the Vietnamese perform their religious rites, not those of the ethnic groups. Xixi, Laa and the owner of the house of the new and beautiful "family stay" that I got into a few days later with a room and my own bathroom, overlooking some beautiful rice fields, were fighting to invite me to spend the "good night" with them ...... me, being diplomatic……. Didn’t give an answer to anyone, I already knew that  Laa and Xixi would eat with the men, and they would not like my presence, perhaps for the women, it was the opportunity to vary their routine and have a little more distraction. I opted for the invitation with the owner of the "family stay" but was not free of menu adventures. To finish off the culinary, one day Laa was so eager to invite me to lunch with her sister the day after the “good night”, She told me the meals they would prepare would be special, just for the holiday. You could get there, walking more than two hours up the mountain, you could get there by motorbike too, the husband had one, and I saw her coordinating a trip taking the young children, first and then another special trip for me, which would upset the men. And making the men angry about the extra money for petrol. She did not accept my refusal, for her it was the best to share and for me to get to know her people,  “diplomacy Peque” I said to myself, tomorrow I will see how I could squeeze out of the invitation. What stopped me was not the motorcycle, I would have walked, but it was the food, she talked about weird food, it was just that, and they're at the top of the hill with no emergency exit like bathrooms or not to be able to leave whenever I wanted. It would have been an extraordinary experience, but I don’t have me the thick skin needed to eat that food, and she was so excited about the idea. The next day I showed up at her house after giving myself many thoughts on how to excuse myself, thank goodness I woke up with a cold, and it was noticeable, my throaty voice and snot ……. Was a good excuse                        

my first family stay, was for 3 days, and then I found the other one with a view of the rice fields and even an electric stove that the owner lent me, I stayed for about two and a half weeks 

We went to her neighbour who dyed, and polished cloth and also made clothes, they forced me to put on her clothes, and behind them were freshly dyed fabrics.

The husband with his motorcycle did what he could, everyone has a motorcycle, there is no other mode of transport, his job was to collect firewood from the forest, perhaps he sells it in other houses to cook, handicrafts and lives on rice, because it is high up in the mountain and cold weather, rice is planted once a year, normally they sow the rice three times per year. They keep what is necessary and the rest they sell to companies. There is no radio in her house or anyone else's, the hamlet, like all the  schools has loudspeakers that announce between 6 and 9 pm, the news, some information from the community and who knows what else. In some villages they play some music, but not here. The religion is based on spirits and ancestors, they gave me a name and what they explained to me, I did not understand anything, they do not have temples, nor home altars like the rest of Asia, nor incense, nor images, nor do they profess rituals. What there are, are prayers and dates on the subject of the water. They told me it was so there would be no drought, and also that there were no floods, destroying everything. Both cases bring death.

What impressed me is that all of them work on various handicraft techniques at the same time, some are more specialised such as looms or sewing garments. I asked them for something to embroider, and I realised that my hands and eyes are no longer the same, clumsy, I did not recognise myself, I took the embroidery home to continue, and it was the same, it made me feel uneasy with myself, because I had lost those skills. With batik, you need a pulse, I couldn't with my trembling hand. A friend arrived with whom they discussed the steps and designs. Her fabric liner tool was not working well, it was loose, and she was complaining about it, I checked it and fixed it for her, I just put a little dowel in it. My only pride in my current manual failures was at least there was something useful I was able to do.

the eldest daughter does not go to school, she embroiders and sells crafts

Now, I thought how I could cooperate with this family, I saw all kinds of shortcomings, anything would suit them, after turning it over in my mind I opted for toys for the children, they did not have any, in the hills I sometimes saw children with a stick and an empty bottle of water that they made into a car, they had nothing, it impressed me. One day I went to Sapa and there I bought a pink backpack for the little girl, She didn't take it off at all, some Lego for the older ones, jellies in containers and for New Year's night as well as for Xixi I bought them a traditional basket with food, (Christmas box) and some decorations for the party. In Laa's house, as in Xixi, there was nothing on the walls, sorry, in Laa's there were two pieces of old kite paper cut out into figures and glued together, she told me that it had been the decoration that her husband made for the previous New Year.

She went on to narrate one of the most shocking stories I have ever lived, I asked Laa to teach me how to do batik, we coordinated and from there I found out how much to pay her for the class, it would be almost all day and of course included lunch, then during the class I realised that she bought the piece of cloth  to practice with. A payment as I understood would be about 2 or 3 dollars, at the end of the day I gave her a little more than 4 dollars , I had already had lunch a couple of times for nothing, it was my opportunity to give back, and I left, she followed me to return some money, which did not correspond so much ……… it makes my hair stand on end even writing this, after everything we shared, all her generosity. She told me that I had already given the children toys, I jokingly told her; “it is because I don't have any grandchildren ', no, no I didn't accept it, I told her to use it to buy food for the party  of her sister’s, and then she accepted. What can I say ……… speechless, I was left to myself. My friend Mari commented when told this story fitted me in its entirety, "they are not contaminated by money." And I confirmed this in Lao Cai that I had already spoken about in the previous chapter walking in the town a couple of bills fell from my pants pocket when I took out the cigarettes, a woman of about 40 years old came out from behind me, she had picked them up and ran to return them to me. ……… ... you are a multimillionaire in comparison to their income and logic dictates that a tourist loses two dollars, it makes no difference, and for them it is the salary of 3 days ……  How do I explain it to myself… When I speak of culture, not just the clothes, the food, but this too, and it doesn't appear in the books, these are the things that I marvel at, It gave  me value and respect, even for people as illiterate as Laa and Xixi 

About three weeks later I when said goodbye to them, Laa gave me a scarf that she resells, the most expensive one and Xixi a scarf of the kind they wear on their heads ... ... please, it's their income ...... those things make me tremendously shy, I shed some tears ……… once again speechless.

I had to go to Hanoi, I went to look for a new credit card that the bank sent me since I had lost mine, I would go back to the north but to another area and I took the opportunity to print a large photo from the ones I took of the Laa’s family. It all started when playing with the children, I took photos of them and showed them, seeing themselves in the photo, their reactions were excited for them Laa between the lunch preparations could not resist looking at the phone and she could not hide her astonishment, I told them to gather in a group, and I took a photo of them, the joy of the woman was indescribable, so my farewell gift was that I printed a large photo put it in golden, gilded frame and took it to her, I went only went for the day, she was not there, I gave it to the husband and his eyes froze looking at the photo, he touched it, he did not look up, it was already clear that they had never seen themselves in a photo. I withdrew in silence.

I am not about putting photos of me on the blog, or anywhere, but to capture their gifts is for me the visual proof of their immense generosity and friendship.

I finish with this photo, they never knew my name, the children called me "big mama", they offered me the earrings to take this photo, thank you Xixi, and Laa for sharing your lives and your eternal dedication. All my gratitude