journal entry for saturday, still waiting on emmett..

Last night (Friday) I had been informed that the village was having a festival this weekend. That’s what the girls have been practicing their dance for. The students came to school dressed in their traditional clothing, but we, the few teachers and students that stay at school for the weekend, did not have a driver to take us into the village. Surprisingly few adults, it seems, drive trucks, while everyone can ride a motorcycle. So we did not go, but I was told that at 7:00 am tomorrow morning we would go to the Temple. 7:00 comes and goes, and we’re sitting around, the boys by their drums (tall ones with carrying straps, played with your hands, except for one set of four that looked like a marching band setup) and a mane comes on his bike, one I recognize from here. Eventually someone tells me we’ll leave at 4:00 pm, then 10:00 am, but we actually leave around 4. While sitting there, me with my pants rolled up as usual exposing massive amounts of insects bites, one of the younger boys offers me this half peeled carrot looking thing, which I make to eat at first, but they motion towards my legs instead. Two girls come over, break it in half, and daub it gently onto my bites, which leaves me looking like I had highlighted bug bites. I’m not sure if it was preventative or for something else, but a nice gesture. When we leave, I get into the front of the truck piles with boys, drums, and one male teacher who doesn’t really like to speak/doesn’t know much English in the back. We get dropped off and unload at the hospital, which is across the fence from the temple, where I can see people milling around or sitting. Then, the boys grab the drums and we all tromp back the way we came, to a degree, stopping at a place where the road going to Saeree Wittaya splits off of the main road. People are congregating here- another parade/march/thing. Another truck comes full of the girls from the school, but not the other teachers. The parade is lad by two banners, then the drummers. After that comes a group carrying flags, and someone with a large sticks, which had smaller sticks coming off of it with money attatched to the end, that forms a kind of large ethereal money ball full of air. Then, lines of women; first the older in their maroon tunic vests and long skirts, then the girls in their pink trimmed white dresses. There are a few more banners here, and then a loose group of people not dressed especially any way. The extras. There is also a monk, out in front, and I’m not sure if he was leading or just running out in front to take pictures. He seemed to do a bit of both. The drums play, and I walk off to the side of the students, trying to avoid being directly in the line but unwilling to walk in a pack of unfamiliar people. We end up back in front of the temple, where the crowd disperses. I follow the girls back again, to the truck, where they hastily swap dresses for jeans and T-shirts, a lot of brands and names I recognize, and put baby powder on their freshly washed faces, followed by pink cheeks and lips for most, as well as some white shimmer for eyebrows and lids, pink and green for the more adventurous. I tried to explain to one girl we usually are putting brown on our skin, not white, and she laughed at little- either at my joke, or terrible pantamoine, not sure. I’m told to go back to the temple to “eat rice”. Gehn Kow, “meal” translates into “eat rice” directly, I’m pretty sure, so often that’s what I’m told, rather than dinner, or breakfast, just “eat rice.” Which is accurate anyways. I end up with three girls that I don’t see very often, leaving the rest to finish readying, and I realized later none of these girls were in the dance. The oldest one has the hardest time talking to me, it seems, saying “Teacher” and then doubling her slim (and tall for Thai) frame in half and awkwardly laughing, hiding her face, when I turn and look at her. I can’t quite figure it out. The little ones are easier, and they grabbed my hands as we walked back to the village, and we started a little game of dramatizing when the motorcycles go by, leaping off to the sides and making panicky faces at each other. One was especially prone to leading me along through the night, and for this, I feel like I got more smiles from the other ladies than I ever had. Once we get to the temple area, we go to a long low table made of split bamboo set with balls of rice individually wrapped in leaves, and bowls of various things to put on top. Everything went fine, until three boys, probably in their early 20’s (which makes them older than me, I suppose) sat down, and the oldest girl ran from the seat next to him to the other side of me, along with one other girl, so then I was surrounded across and on one side by them, making things a little strange. They didn’t know too much English though, and weren’t too forward. After eating, we went to the temple, but not the one that I had been taken to before. It was a newer looking building behind it, and there were also pictures up on a large board of people and monks building it, I believe. We go in, kneel and do the three time bow, the girls giggling at my sad attempt the whole time, and I took a picture. Since the monks behind me, two of which I recognized from the ceremony at the school, were taking plenty of pictures, I figured it was alright. Then I was rushed out, and we had a look around. There was a square stage set at the front of this whole area, with a fence between the field and buildings and the road, and two booths inside, and a few outside, selling food and drink. There were four different games set up. One involved throwing rings over bottle necks. There were three bottles set up, and what I believed to be the prizes set right behind them, a Fanta, a pack of cigarettes (I think), and another Fanta. One more throwing game next to that, and then something similar to bingo, with a big chalkboard and numbers and some people sitting, and then the game I played later, that some girls called “Silver Star.” It’s a small, leafless tree, tied with all kinds of shiny colored foil. Using a stick with a split end, you reach up, tangling your stick with the strings and then pulling down some pieces. Each is folded up, and you open it up, looking to see if it’s blank or if there is a number. If you get a number, you win a prize, other wise it’s one baht per piece, and a candy as a prize. I walked away that evening with a pocket full of stale hard candy. I hadn’t seen the other girls or other female teachers yet, but eventually I found one student, and then was approached by the doctor, or at least someone who worked at the hospital. I also talked to a man on crutches who works at the school, who is at least in his fifties, who was supporting his even older friend who was quite inebriated, and proceeded to swipe a crutch and gesture at me wildly with it. I never really found out what the teacher was saying. I then settled down with the girls on the bank, where other mothers and children began congregating first after it started getting dark, giving them free camera reign (always a big hit.) A man and woman began hosting the event, talking and even though other music and games continued, people started trickling over to watch them give away prizes to those who had won at sports earlier the day, I believe. Our girls get up to dance, but wonder of wonders! It’s a different song! Little did I know they had two numbers. There were other groups of dancing girls, some similar to our middle school Thai pop routine, a group of little tiny traditionally dressed girls, and then some hip shaking that got squeals from the audience, even though they couldn’t have been more than second graders. There was considerable giggling too, though. At one point, Can, the man announcer, introduced himself to me, as did two other youngish girls, and a woman very eager to get to know me, who told me she was an English student in Bangkok. She is the only person to have told me ‘I like English,’ and was quite attached to me for a good while. I also had my picture taken a few times, even by a cell phone once, which made me feel a little bit cool, but also quite strange. After the dancers, there was a man and woman duo singing and playing instruments, which later became just the man. People would walk up on the stage, with garlands of ribbons, a big loop of chains like you used to make for Christmas in 3rd grade or so, and place them around their neck through out the song. I think they paid for the priviledge, to raise money for something, but I’m not positive. After that, different people, including the director and a young woman who teaches here, got up to sing and the dance floor was opened, although the be-ribboning continued. The dancers were exclusively drunk men from about 16 up, unless they cleared them out, when the older woman did a dance or two, but then it’d go right back to the men. My favorite was this older man in a jean jacket with greasy looking hair, who during the very mellow acoustic set had gotten up and stood right next to the stage, dancing and pointing and yipping to the singer enthusiastic, and kept up his antics during dancing as well. It was getting late and cold, but the men kept dancing and I kept sitting with the girls avoiding eye contact with the doctor character, who was a little to giggly for my taste, and kept asking me if I would dance. I wan’t sure how we were getting back to the school, but eventually, around midnight, we were sent to walk back to the truck that got us here, followed by two boys on a motorcycle for light. Not long after, the two female teachers came on their bike, and sent the two boys back. About an hour later they returned, followed by th man who drove us back ot the school. I was exceedingly appreciative of the hot water, because I filled a small tub and soaked my feet before bed. They were frozen since I’d been outside in sandal and a skirt for so long. It’s easy to forget it still gets cold at night here.