Thailand
You cannot tell your family directly. But after many months, when they see you again, they will know. Your dress is no longer the traditional Lahu. Your make-up contrasts sharply to the other village women. Even the words you now choose. If you were really a housemaid in Bangkok, your hands would be worn. Perhaps you change so slowly that you don’t even realize it yourself.
One Lahu mother working in Bangkok almost never comes home. She left her children with their old grandmother. This mother can’t send money home often anymore. She has to have it for herself, too. In the city, clothes, make-up, food, and accommodations are costly—HIV treatments, too.
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Since Father G’ui Sha brought the first Lahu out of a green gourd, we please him with music from gourd pipes called naw. Many Lahu play the naw, which they make by putting five bamboo pipes into a dried gourd, setting them in with beeswax. Father G’ui Sha, the great Sky Ghost, brought down a boat from the heavens at the edge of the sea. The boat carried a gourd. A sparrow pecked at it for nine years. When it opened, the Lahu people walked out onto the land.
Father G’ui Sha gave the Lahu a saddle, but no horse. The saddle was heavy, so the Lahu left it, and the Chinese seized it. Then he gave the Lahu a plow, which also weighed too much. When the Lahu left it, the Thai took it away. Then Father G’ui Sha gave the Lahu a knife—which we kept because it was light.
The Chinese trade goods on horses, the Thai plow the rice fields, and the Lahu have only a knife to use for carving and hunting.
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I became literate in Lahu thanks to my mother. As a child, she also taught me to sew. She spent her days taking care of our household and making us clothes. When I was eight, she passed away and left the six of us, including my three-month old brother. One year after my mother’s death, my father married my auntie—my mother’s first cousin—and we moved to the city.
Rangoon became harder that year. Our relatives began immigrating to Thailand. The Burmese army was cruel. Our hill tribe’s demand for rights caused clashes between our people and the ruling junta. In fits of anger, the junta would burn Lahu villages, driving us into the highlands. The ones who did not escape were forced to carry their guns and cargo. “Do not give food to these people” the junta warned other villages.
We joined the flow of immigrants crossing into Thailand. When my father was offered a position as a Lahu pastor in Chiang Rai, he took his entire family. Like many, we left Burma, never to look back.
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When you are not documented, you have no rights. No right to vote, no right to buy land, no rights to get medical care, travel between provinces, or hold a job. When you cannot speak, read, or write Central Thai, how can you register even for a stay permit? Without citizenship, options are scarce. You can farm in the village for a few coins per day. You can work in the city—but they will pay you very low wages. If you open a small shop in the city, you may be closed down. If you don’t have citizenship, you must be discreet. You are not protected by the government. Your work is always in question. Anyone can take advantage of you.
If your parents are not literate in Central Thai, you were not registered. You must return to your district and apply for an ID card. But if your parents were refugees, they may not have legal status themselves. So, how can you expect to obtain it?
When a teenage girl I know went to register at age 16, they asked her to get a DNA test in the city—which is painful and expensive. Even if the test proves positive, how can a villager who makes 100 baht a day afford to purchase citizenship at 25,000 baht? How can you resist the appeal of working in Bangkok as a housemaid or massage therapist? If you can entertain 3 or 4 customers a night, you earn citizenship for you and your children in only a few years.
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At the women’s center in Chiang Mai, our girls celebrate new life. In their escape, they reimagine who they are in a loving, safe community. The girls get skills training. They return to their villages one time per month, leading dramas that teach others the dangers. They challenge their people: if you have an offer for work in Korea or in Bangkok, how will you avoid problems? How do you know this high-paying factory job is real?
A Lahu motto is cheh shah aw peht – or “live easy, be easy.” Like most Lahu people, the girls have a love for fun, an easygoing way of life. They may have entered the modern world, but our stories are not forgotten. The Lahu accepted only a knife from Father G’ui Sha, but have learned to use it for sundry purposes. For instance, the girls carve naw gourd pipes during the festival season. As they become women, they learn to play the naw to “talk to others” during courting. What fun would Lahu New Year be without returning the music of your mate?
photo by Nathan Cima on Unsplash
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