You experience everything in Thailand (64)

In an earlier story in this series, blog reader and writer Dick Koger talked about his friend Dolf Ricks. Dick made many trips in Thailand with him in the eighties and nineties, about which he wrote stories for the Newsletter of the Dutch Association of Thailand in Pattaya.

Today the story about a visit to Ban Muang in Yasaton.

Visit to a village

We go to the village where the staff of Dolf Riks Restaurant comes from, Ban Muang, which is forty kilometers away from Yasothon. On arrival the house seems empty, but from behind comes a short fat man, who looks exactly like Bue, the chef, but who I later hear a complicated story, that it would not be his real father.

No problem, because his mother is also short and fat. Moreover, the seriousness itself, because she is, or feels, ill. We unpack, now mainly drink, and Bue's father goes into the village to announce our arrival.

Gradually the yard fills up with fathers and mothers of waiters, cooks and cleaners. Dolf knows them all and all know Dolf. The cordiality is touching. Some people leave to buy a pig at our expense. Thia, a good friend, knows that I do not eat the beast, after I have seen it killed. So he takes my camera with him to show me afterwards. When the gigantic beast is roasted, it is carried into the yard on a wheelbarrow. Here it is skinned and cut into pieces. About a hundred people are now present. While the men are busy with the pig, the women make a flower arrangement on a base of plaited banana leaves. This is for later in the evening.

We are Lien, the sister of Dolf and Kees, her husband and myself. Dolf and I mainly eat satay and spare ribs. Delicious. I drink a lot, but not too much, Mekong. When the worst hunger is satisfied, a ceremony begins. The flower arrangement is in the middle of the table and next to it a man takes a seat and begins to pray in a melodious voice. No doubt he asks Buddha to be good to us. The same sounds are often repeated. So it is, presumably, a prayer with a fixed text. When the man is ready, cotton strings are placed on the table and each of those present ties a string around one of the guests' wrists. That will be a huge forest. Those strings bring good luck.

Then the gifts are distributed. A pillow for each of us, a long narrow cloth of cotton for around the waist or head and a blanket against the evening cold. All own manufacture. Bue's mother hands me the blanket with solemnity, where I barely know how to behave. So I mutter 'nice and hot' in Thai. I didn't dare take off the blanket for the rest of the evening.

Then comes music. Live. Amplifiers are added later. We have to dance. The Isan dance. So only make nice movements with the hands and knees. Men and women, boys and girls, do this in the same graceful way. The four guests mimic it a bit stiffly. I wouldn't do it at all, but booze works wonders. It's only nine o'clock when we leave, but we feel like we've been busy for hours.

Up early the next morning. No breakfast. Back to Ban Muang. Yesterday we had offered the pig, now the village offers us fish. A pond has been dug out in the middle of a rice field and apparently fish have been introduced into it. Because they find the water too cold to enter, fishing takes place in a very original way. The pond is emptied by means of an irrigation motor. All the men now disappear into the pit and by rooting in the mud, they track down the fish. Small sardine-like fish up to sixty centimeter boys. Both pladook, a delicious type of fish that I cannot describe, and eel.

Above ground, the fish are killed by hand by breaking the neck. Then a bamboo stick through its bark and placed upright near a fire to roast. Can't be fresher. Again dozens of people are present. Everyone eats and drinks happily. When all the fish is gone, we go home.