“Before they pass away”
is the title and probably the motto of the photographer Jimmy Nelson. For most of his life he has traveled to the world’s most remote places to visit communities in danger of loosing their identity or vanishing altogether. I am by far not adventurous enough to do comparable things and do not dare to compare my simple shots with his art, but a few times I have come to meet groups which might be in danger of disappearing.
Lishu mother and baby
The border area of Thailand, Laos, Burma and China is home to quite a number of indigenous tribes. Some of the tribes are quite numerous and live across the borders in several of these countries. In 1982 the Karen tribe was so powerful that their Karen Liberation Army controlled a wide area in northern Burma, but other groups led by individual warlords also controlled their areas independent from the national governments like a state in the state. The area north of Chiang Mai was controlled by the Shan army. Financed was that independence by the sale of drugs, supported it was by the controversial interests of the superpowers of the cold war. Cultivation of the poppy papaver somniferum was widespread in the region and was processed into opium and heroin locally.
View across Chiang Mai
Nevertheless or exactly for that reason hiking trips to the villages of these tribes already were popular in 1982. In Thailand the center for these organized tours was and still is the northern town of Chiang Mai. And of course that was exactly what we wanted to do there.
In the shadow of the Buddha
The first night while sitting on the veranda of a guesthouse and watching the hunting geckos we got acquainted with a rather unworldly german guy called Ekkehard. He is ethnologist and lives and works in a local village to do his PhD on the Lishu tribe. E. dislikes the trekking companies and tells us to go to his village, talk to the village elder, who is his host, and ask them to show us the way. He even draws a little sketch for us to find the village.
Plaster in the face after a walk during the water festival
We want to get out of Chiang Mai as quickly as possible. It is the time of New Year, the water festival, and everybody who comes back to the guesthouse is not only drenched to the bones, but also covered in plaster and, hopefully acrylic, paint. Ekkehart has assured us that these practices are uncommon with the mountain tribes.
Bus station in Chiang Mai
So on Thursday April 15th, 1982, (yes also the diary of this trip is preserved… this was the time of the beginning of the British counter attack in the Falkland war) we board a bus to Fang, a village more than a hundred kilometers north of Chiang Mai. Even on the bus we are not safe of the water festival. Splashing the passing bus with buckets of water is a harbinger of good luck. Fortunately we have a seat which stays rather dry. A french couple on the other side of the bus gets the full load. In Fang we change onto a pickup to the village of Thaton, not far from the border to Burma. When we arrive the whole village seems to be drunk. A couple of Thai border patrol police people have us sit down with them and have some whiskey, crisps and something what is probably the famous chinese 100 year old egg delicacy – a smelly egg where the yolk has turned green and the rest brownish black.
The dirt track leading to the village Lishu 1
We wanted to continue by river boat, but there is none today. Instead we meet some women of the Lishu tribe, who seem to be highly delighted to take us to their the village. They place us on the roof of a pick-up. Some technical problems delay the departure of the worn-out vehicle. But after the short stopover (we cannot use our watches any more, since they did not survive the water festival in Chiang Mai) we seem to already know half of the village.
Lishu 1
The dirt track ends and we have to walk a muddy path to the village “Lishu 1” where Ekkehard does his studies. He has given us a recommendation for a guy who speaks some English. For the small contribution of 60 baht we can stay in his hut and get dinner and breakfast. Obviously they are used to receive people like us here. Some in vain ask a baht to take their portrait.
Our host family in Lishu 1
Our hut is quite solid. It is built from bamboo and wood on a stone and concrete foundation. The roof is from corrugated iron. Most of the other huts only have a foundation of pounded clay and a roof of palm leaves. In case of a downpour the water comes in, but only on the ground. Only few of the huts are on poles. The family shares the interior with some chicken. While most of daily life is carried on in the open, the cooking is done inside.
Part of the family we stayed with in Lishu 3
The Lishu wear colorful clothes with striped borders. Women are busy weaving the borders under a shelter in the open. An ingenious construction of a heavy wooden beam operated with a foot is used to pound grain to flour. Chicken, pigs and dogs roam the open spaces. The dogs look very much like the pigs and we ask ourselves if there has been some interbreeding. Obviously only the dogs carry some fleas. They regularly throw themselves in the dust and scratch and rub on the floor.
Proud father
The village housed 39 families of 430 people. There were children everywhere. There are few toys. A bird alive serves as a toy, its leg tied to a stick with a thread. It is one of the saddest things I remember of having seen in my entire life. Not all of the children look very healthy. Some have swollen bellies, and one is covered with insect bites. I offer a creme which supposedly helps for bites. This and some sweets we distribute to the children and pens for the adults makes us popular and we spend a nice evening with the family in the hut. We get a dinner of rice, salad and egg but we decline the opium on offer. We take a couple of shots of Thai whiskey, howver. There is no electricity in the hut and in the dark it is quite cumbersome to get out my contact lenses when we are ready to sleep.
Women are busy weaving the borders of the dresses
Our planned route was from here to Chiang Rai via a village called Mae Salong. According to Ekkehard this path was easy to find. However, our hosts tell us that we better not walk alone since the trail passes through the area of the Shan Army. They arrange a guide for us for 400 bath, who will negotiate with the people of the drug army. They affirm that there would be no danger.
We have bought sturdy thai army boots in Chiang Mai which are an ingenious construction of a lower leather part and a shaft of linen, which keeps out the leeches. Our guide walks in slippers. Equipped as such, he climbs up the slopes much quicker than us – at least in the beginning.
The forest cover of the hills has widely given way to a barren savanna landscape. The tribes use slash and burn agriculture. When they burn down the forest, the fires frequently spread beyond control and burn a much wider area than intended. The cleared area then can be cultivated for 30-40 years at most. “Lishu 1” was established 11 years before. After the ground is exhausted they break down their villages and move to a new spot. Since the humus cover of the mountain sides is rather thin it is quickly washed away in the downpours of the rainy season. The cash crop was still papaver for opium, although the government has introduced incentives to grow strawberries instead. So tourism is a big benefit for these people, for the environment and helps against drug production. The tribes see the advantage of preserving the forest when it attracts paying visitors. Without tourism the cultivation of poppies is the most lucrative. Since it is illegal, the farmers have to be protected by the local warlords, who at the time were in a constant conflict with the Thai army.
Group of hunters with dogs
Our guide tells us that 5 year ago they had hunted for monkeys and wild pigs. Now they are gone. Nevertheless we keep meeting groups of hunters with old fashioned rifles looking for birds. Lizards and birds are the only edible wild creatures left. Apparently the lizards are a delicacy. In the short stretches when we walk in forest, there is a cacophony of sounds from insects and frogs.
Only a small part of the cleared slopes are actually cultivated
The village of Lishu 3
View across the valley covered in mist
An ingenious construction of a heavy wooden beam operated with a foot to pound grain to flour
“Lishu 2” is held by an armed force of half a dozen of Shan soldiers. They are armed with Kalashnikov’s and radios which do not work. There was a battle with the Thai army north of here and the Shan retreated to this area. We hear that the Shan army has 35.000 members. The boss is a chinese drug dealer. It should not have been a problem for the Thai army then 1 million strong to get rid of the Shan. We suspected that the Shan had influential friends in the government or military in Bangkok. There always goes a lot of money with drugs. The shan also can easily retreat onto the no man’s land burmese territory. The attack a short time before had been under pressure of the american government and the CIA. Maybe the Shan had been given an indication of where to go to not be hit. To seek refuge in an innocent Lishu village also provided some protection. The different indigenous tribes are solidaric and stay together – except of one.
Drug lab above the houses of Lishu 2
On the way to the next village “Lishu 3” we keep meeting groups of heavily armed man. Our guide seems to be on good terms with them, they have a chat and both parties continue.
The guide
We arrive in Lishu 3 early afternoon. The village resembles an army camp. Supposedly 1000 Shan troops have settled around here. It is a neat village but we have to stay inside because of a torrential downpour. The hut is a bit more basic. We share it with a family of 12 children. Everybody sits together although we get our food at a separate table. Our guide is in charge. Occasionally the others answer with a grunt. With us he boasts about his successes with western tourist women – regardless of nationality, he has had them all…. Again we are offered Opium, which we should consume in the hut next door because the family does not consume drugs. We decline, but our guide uses his fill of a combination of Opium, Morphine and Heroin. He asks us for a little cash advance since otherwise he might be unable to walk tomorrow. As evidence he shows us a collection of pills and powders.
An Akha village
Entrance gate
Akha woman
Our departure the next morning is a bit delayed since he first has to get high. The direct route from Lishu 3 to Mae salong would cross Burmese territory. It is blocked since the Shan have built their drug laboratory on the way. So we walk a detour which makes us pass the village of another tribe, the Akha.
The run for the sweets
The Akha are detested by the other tribes because they are so dirty. In their myth they are offsprings of monkeys. In contrast to the colorful Lishu they wear black, but adorned with jewelry of mainly silver coins. As soon as they spot us we are surrounded by clusters of noisy kids, who tear the sweets out of our hands. The adults ask for presents, pens, baht’s, dollars, cigarettes, our backbags and our clothes. We get out of there quickly.
Even the little boys wear jewelry
We are increasingly exhausted but seem to fare better than our guide, whose fill of drugs seems to be exhausted. The next village is burnt down but eventually we get a rest and lunch after we had to brave another burnt and hot barren slope. It is the lonely little farm of a Chinese. It comes over like an oasis. A bamboo tube conveys fresh spring water from the mountain, pigs or is it dogs grunt satisfied in the courtyard and our guide seems to get what he needs to be able to finish the tour.
The overloaded pickup we are supposed to take to Chiang Rai
We reach Mae Salong at dusk and collapse in a room in a Chinese hotel. The next morning we are part of the load of 25 passengers in a pick-up in the direction of Chiang Rai. I think we look and smell worse than the pigs or dogs we met on the way. Nevertheless, when we take a little boat to the island in the no man’s land of the golden triangle, the confluence of the Mekong and Ruak rivers forming the border between Laos, Thailand and Burma, a Thai family with two utmost lovely daughters insists to have their photo taken with us.
Thai family who wanted to have their pictures taken with us
The magazine of a globetrotter club, which I keep receiving, has sent me a special corona edition. It contains a collections of reports of travelers stranded in lock-down all over the world. It is interesting to read and compare the conditions to with what we have to endure. There is a story of a guy staying in Thailand. He is not able to leave his town. Wearing of face masks is required at all times. Entering a supermarket, bank or any other public institution is only possible after a temperature check with a thermometer at the entrance, hand disinfection and of course, the correct use of the face mask. Alcohol is not for sale any more. There is a curfew from 10 pm to 4 am. Not obeying the rules comes with a fine of 100.000 Baht (3000 €). I have been to Chiang Mai more than 30 years after this story. Trekking to the tribes is big business now and their main income. There is less drug production and more forest. I wonder what they are doing now when nobody comes visiting any more. Thailand does not know any compensation for loss in income like in some European countries. The former general and present prime minister of their military government has declared that this is not his problem but should be solved by the employers…..
The golden triangle, the point where Thailand, Laos and Burma meet
“My book is also meant as a source of inspiration and its main objective is to keep cultures and traditions alive. It’s also intendeds to encourage people to become observers of the world and leasrn from cultural differences.” Jimmy Nelson
Main road in northern Thailand
Some time later I walked to a similar village in Laos. By then the traditional costumes were gone:
More from Lishu 1
One of the village geese.
View from our hut
Modern toy
Our guide with a hunting rifle tribng to avoid hurting himself
Barren slopes as a consequence of slash and burn agriculture
