COOKING BROWN RICE IN CROCK POT

Image courtesy: Rankin/Oxfam

DO NOT CROP OR CUT OUT IMAGE..
.
Tede holds a day's worth of food in the palm of his hands.
.
Tede Lokapelo, 85.
“I am officially married; I have eight children here with me the others live elsewhere. I have ten children in total..
When it rained there was a lot of grass. The animals were healthy and they would produce young ones. There was plenty of milk, we even kept some dried. Women kept animal fat in containers for cooking. There were wild fruits everywhere. That was when people used to get married, usually at night. There would be traditional dancing all night long and during the day. Young men, old men, young ladies, even women. We would dance from one homestead to the next. Each homestead would cook a goat or even a camel. Those were good times there was lots of happiness. In those days god was near. Nowadays god is far, he brings no rain. .
I am living in the worst time of my life. We are poor because the season is always dry. Everything dies, every day, every day, every day. For me the world has changed for the worse. We are living with a lot of uncertainties - no water, no food. It used to rain even when the grass was still green. It was never dry like this. Now maybe it rains for a few minutes or a few hours but the earth is too dry nothing can be absorbed. This kind of drizzly rain is useless. If you look at the ground it is not even wet. You can tell whether the rain will be good or bad by looking at those mountains. You see that kind of smoke or fog? That is a symbol of the dry season. That fog needs to clear before the big rain clouds can come, then the skies can open and it will rain like it used to for days. It used to rain so that floods and rivers appear. But that will not happen until that fog disappears..
It used to rain for days. In this community there are people called rain makers. In the past when we had a prolonged drought all the men would go and see the rain maker. We would sit under a special tree in the mountains and prayer for rain. But god seems that he has become too far away and these traditions don’t work anymore. .
Back then we had everything, even wild animals were everywhere. There were antelopes, ostriches, wild cats, even lions, elephants, buffalo, leopards, everything. The last time I saw a lion it was 1971. By 1971 we could not see any animals here. The antelope remained around for a while but by 1988 the antelopes also started dying. The wild animals found no grass here, just dust. There was no shade for them. They began slowly dying of hunger. Those that could walk began walking away. They went to places where they could find shade and water. .
I miss those animals very much. The environment is not complete without them. They even used to come to our homesteads sometimes. I dream about the old times when I used to see them but I don’t expect to see them again around here. In my dreams I see the animals running away from me, playing in some isolated place or shading under a tree. These are dreams that maybe your goals are getting lost..
The ostrich was my favourite. You could walk somewhere and find an ostrich egg and along the way we would find some feathers and adorn ourselves with these. Some of the women’s jewellery is made with the shell of the ostrich egg. We would carve the shells to make necklaces and belts for the ladies to make them look beautiful. .
This is a feather that I found. I have a special container for the feathers to keep them dry so that nothing can destroy the softness of the feathers. I have kept few feathers - that’s enough for me. I wear them at special occasions..
Sometimes I have dreams that someone is coming to fight me, someone who has done me some wrong or I dream that someone is coming to steel my goats. .
Sometimes I dream of dancing the traditional Turkanan men’s dance. I was dancing when I was young, even now I can still dance if there is a wedding. I have not given up yet. When I dance like that I feel lighter. I feel good. But when I go to rest later I have aches everywhere. We used to dance and sing all the time. The pride of a man comes from defending his livestock and their pasture. The songs the men used to sing were about fighting and cattle raiding. We sung to praise our strength. The women would sing and dance to praise the men No one is singing or dancing now because everyone is sad that they have no food..
Sometimes I dream about food. I dream that I am eating, eating, eating. Sometimes sogem, sometimes meat sometimes milk but when I wake up it is not there and I realise that it is just a dream. I may grow old and die before my time because of going hungry. It’s hard to sleep when you are hungry. You get no peace. You spend all night shifting around. Everywhere aches. You try this side, that side, two minutes on your back. When you sleep on your left side the other side is sore. You can hear your stomach rumbling all night. When the day breaks, I will look around and see if there is any

Thailand - Land of Scares. Today: Ubon Ratchathani province, NE-Thailand. I am on a straight stretch of the road, and I see the other motorcycle is still behind me.

In the black Isaan night, the motorcycle in my back has been following me for seven kilometers now. We are in the middle of nowhere. I am sure they have seen the farang in the lights at Pha Thaem national park and will catch up with me when they wish so. Then, me, the farang, will have to part with Honda, wallet and maybe also with his live. Welcome to the Land of Scares.

I drive a around a long bend, the light in the back disappears.

To the left, there is a kilometer of bush, then the Mekong river, then Laos. To the right, there are many kilometers of bush. Up ahead, but still about ten kilometers away, there is the peaceful village of Khong Chiam where i have rented a tourist bungalow.

The road is straight now, and the light behind comes up again.

Even the stupid fat lady in my default noodles shack, she had told me: "In nighttime, no go outside, ok?" She had pointed at my Honda. "Have some bad people." With a bewildered ugly frightening face, she had moved her stretched hand along her throat. I had promised to never venture out of the village at night time.

In the dim light of my moto-sai, i enter another curve and lose sight of my chasers again.

But i had broken the promise I gave to the noodles shack lady. One late afternoon, i set off for the cliffs of Pha Thaem national park, about 20 kilometers far from Khong Chiam. I had paid the ridiculous 200 Baht special farang entry fee, walked through the miniscule visitor center towards the rim overlooking Mekong river and some Lao lands. Yes, and then i fell for one of the most stunning sunsets i have ever seen in my life. I sat on the warm rocks, stared and clicked at the sunset and completely forgot that this heavenly drama would finish within a few minutes - and that black night was next on the repertoire. Without seeing much i stumbled back to moto-sai and tried to find the road back to Khong Chiam. I remembered the noodles lady: "In nighttime, no go outside. Have bad people."

Bad people are still following me on their motorbike, for about twelve kilometers now, i see them again as we are both on another long straight stretch of road now.

I can't drive real fast in the pitch black night, I'd surely hit buffaloes, bicycles, chicken, dogs, kids, cats, cows, coconuts or potholes, just any of the delightful country road population you meet on a night out in Isaan. Out of nothing, a very poor village appears to the right side of the road, i didn't remember that one. There even is a shabby fried chicken stall. Grotty lights, dim, dirty, uninviting, only few people on broken benches. But without further thinking, i slam on the brakes and steer the Honda right in between the benches. I get a surprised look, then everybody continues to munch on their ropy chickens with khao niaw, sticky rice. They seem quite apathic, kind of drugged, it is only about seven thirty by now.

But then my chasers near. The motorcycle that has haunted me for about 12 kilometers, never to let loose. I want to disappear completely behind the stall, but too late now, i remain visible.

Two elderly housewives in pyjama dress zoom by on a farting pre-war moto-sai. They carry about ten plastic bags with veggies. They are in a hurry to get home and cooking. They don't look left or right. Welcome to the Land of Scares.

<< Arhiva >>