i am walking in the mountains of western thailand through fields and fields of pineapples as far as my eyes can see. the light rain is refreshing in the very early morning heat, however it is somewhat difficult to discern the rain from the large droplets of sweat that never seem to end. it matters not that i have forgotten my rain jacket. up and up i climb. an overwhelming mixture of wet earth and sweetness permeates my nostrils, sometimes it is so thick i must catch my breath. the burmese border is about 10 km away; i feel as if i could just reach out and touch it. the desire to continue walking over these mountains into burma is quite strong, but i know just as strongly that i cannot. perhaps that is why they lure me so. i am told it would take me a week to walk to burma from this spot, due to the density of the jungle and the need to continuously hide from the soldiers. and yet. my host i know only marginally, his nickname is saan; all thai people are addressed by their first names, almost always a nickname. his mother has joined my team and me on this journey, along with our ywam (youth with a mission) hosts and seven other university students that we have spent the last three days with. saan’s family has farmed this land for about thirty years and he lives here, when not at university, with his parents, sister and grandparents. he is a third year student, majoring in english, who desires to become a tour guide after graduation. his dress and mannerisms are feminine, his lips painted red, his nails expertly manicured. no one but us ‘farangs’ (foreigners) seems to notice. his kindness knows no bounds. up and up we climb. soon we enter into the jungle that has yet to be cleared, the tiny pathway we follow obviously made by the feet of many over the years. i am surrounded by bamboo and looking closer, i see the tender shoots similar to those collected for brunch later to come. there are also many tall, skinny trees whose entire trunks bear the largest, sharpest thorns i have ever seen; they resemble gigantic rose thorns. its leaves appear benign enough, what was God thinking when he created such a tree and what predator could it possibly be protecting itself against? here and there are i see mushrooms which the rain has enticed, ‘psychedelic’ i am told. i yearn to wander off and explore this fascinating place, but i am a white farang female and cannot be left alone. ‘but I do not have blonde hair and blue eyes’ i protest; i lose. we come to a babbling stream, cross uneasily over fallen trees and still we climb. more and more pineapples in various stages of growth greet us. the view is spectacular -clouds slung low over the mountains, rolling hills, lush fields, fruit trees, jungle, flowers, burma, rain on my face, bliss. i am thankful for gray sky. finally we reach our destination, land that has been plowed, readied for the replanting of pineapples. we are told that it as we reach one of the lower fields, saan’s mother harvests several of the pineapples that have taunted us so. she quickly and skillfully cuts the fruit with a large machete-like knife. no matter the dirt and debris on our hands, we eagerly eat this luscious fruit of the earth. with juices dripping down our faces and necks, we are gleeful at how ‘alloy maa’ (very delicious) this tastes to our tongues – we agree that there is nothing like this in the states or canada – perfection. we return to saan’s very modest home – one large open room with a tattered wood floor, two very small bedrooms off to one side. we devour more pineapple as my teammates learn the techniques of carving perfect pineapple slices. we laze about in the heat, wander the grounds, play with puppies, feast on a
takes 15 months for a pineapple to mature, a fact i find startling when one considers they can be purchased most everywhere in thailand for about 10 baht (30 cents ). i am given a sharp hoe, bundles of plants all around. i find the rich, deeply black earth to be somewhat softened by the rain nevertheless it still requires a lot of effort for me to dig the holes large enough for the sizeable cuttings. i find the challenge exhilarating; i have needed to release some frustrations. i dig and dig. the weathered workers who normally carry out this back-breaking labor hang out on the periphery, chuckling. this just spurs me on. although we are ogled everywhere we go, i suspect it is our lack of farming talent that amuses. our rows pale in the beauty of theirs, but we finish and feel somewhat accomplished. though our work has been minimal, we have somehow left a piece of ourselves in this place to mature in its time. down and down we climb.
variety of meals prepared by saan’s mother, feed the pigs, heckle chickens, discover a giant centipede, eat again and learn how to make my favorite dish – sôm dtam (papaya salad) – in a tiny, cement-bricked kitchen where ten or so Thais and farangs gather densely together on the cold floor to share in the experience of creating our lunch. we nap, get to know ourselves, our new friends and teammates better through wonderfully broken english and thai conversation, karaoke, dancing, laughter, new nicknames presented to us farongs (mine is ‘deuan dtem’, or full moon. imagine that), wild monkeys, swimming, hot springs, monk fascination, squatty potties. i have often heard that pineapples are a symbol of hospitality – i have simply experienced no greater single example of this than today. we depart with our hearts full with a mixture of fatigue, sadness, joy and hope, content with the gifts of this magnificent day, these remarkable people, this wondrous land. God painted our day and smiled upon us. i will never be the same.
