Visit to the Miao in Thailand

But onto Miao land. My recording, before the tape ran out, brings you right up to when Dave and I reach the village at dark, after a pretty exciting hike through the teak jungles of northern Thailand. We thought some sort of festival must’ve been in progress, the noise level was so high, but we soon discovered the Miaos just feel more comfortable if all their children are screaming at each other, all their animals are grunting and barking, and mooing, and all the women are pounding rice with tree trunks in large, reverberating wooden mortars. When they discovered that Dave and I were friends of Dr. Lyman, we were ushered straight into the Chief's hut for a preliminary trading session of stares and smiles and helpless gestures, followed by a welcome meal of hill rice, chicken, wild pig, and fruits, and then a warm bed on the guest shelf beside the hearth. About this time we were getting to feel pretty “in”, and spent most of the night discussing our day's impressions.

A few words about the Miaos: they are a race of people whose language, customs, and dress have not changed one bit since at least 2000 BC. Dr. Lyman has already told us some thing about their language, since he is writing a dictionary of it: 44 consonants, 29 vowel sounds, two vowel lengths, and seven tones, and Lord knows what other complications. Some of their oral legends tell of a time when their language was written, but this writing has long since disappeared under early Chinese mandarin isolation efforts. When they heard Lyman wanted to put their speech to paper again, you can imagine how warmly he was (and still is) received.

Their clothing, especially that of the women, is unique, for until modern times they were the only indigenous people of Southeast Asia who wore skirts: knee length, flouncy, black skirts in fact, with beautiful hand embroidered hemlines, each requiring three months to make, and each having a useful life of over 100 years. They wear no shoes, but black leggings cover them from their ankles to just below their knees. When they do wear something above the waist, it is a black vest, held at the waist with a green sash (hence the name Green Miao. We also visited Red Miaos, Black Miaos, and Banded Stripe Miaos). Heavy silver rings encircle their necks, and silver earrings hang from their pierced and elongated earlobes. The women’s hair is done up in a fashionable bun, the men’s cut short and covered with a black skullcap. It is a dignified and distinctive costume. I saw no makeup on either sex.

The Miao's staple food is hill rice, which they grow dry on hillside clearings, and their main meat sources are wild pigs and chickens. Completely self-sufficient in food and clothing, they earn pocket money from the Llanas by selling jungle parrots and Chinese chow dogs. Their main cash crop is opium, which they tap from the flowers in well-hidden poppy fields and process in their own homes. I was told by a doctor in Bangkok that most of the opium grown by the males is transported to Italy and Sicily, and then on to the states. All of the Miao men are opium addicts, smoking perhaps 10 to 20 pipe falls a day, but the women and children do not indulge.  Our host, the chief, had been an addict for over 15 years, but, surprisingly, he still looked in excellent health; in fact, I could not hope to keep up with him on the jungle hikes he invited me to join. The second night of our stay we were given the rare honor of sharing his pipe in his opium room, and custom dictated that we accept the offer. From then on, we were practically members of his family. Incidentally, and not to surprisingly, David and I had one hell of a good time smoking opium with the chief every night. But don’t worry: it takes a lot more than we inhaled to get hooked, and now we are far, far from the source.

Two final observations on their customs. Water is a scarcity where they live, so bathing is just not done. Instead, if for some funny reason, a male person gets the urge to get clean, he grabs a citrus fruit,  slices it in half, and rubs it all over his body. Makes him smell pretty nice, too. Another curious custom is their a method of threshing rice: they do it with their feet, standing on a pile of rice stalks, and rubbing them with the soles of one foot against the ankle of the other. It is a very graceful thing to watch, and in fact one evening Dave and I saw one fellow dancing to the tune of his own music in the very same manner. Oh, there is so much to tell about these people! For example, Lyman says he was bitten by a male vampire one night, and the Miaos think so too! I’ll save the stories for California, OK?

For an even more exciting and informative report of this adventure, choose David Almquist from the Friends (A-K) menu.