We were helping to build a water system in a particularly remote village near Mae Sariang, called Ban Hue Na. They had an existing system, built by the government, but it was poorly filtered and taken from below the rice fields so the water was full of chemicals.
We found the tanks whilst looking around the village and they did not look clean. The inspection hole at the top looked like it was leaking (taking the grime from the top of tank to the inside) and the concrete was cracking. In the last year six members of the village contracted typhoid and during the hot season there simply wasn't enough water.
The trip up to the village was exciting; Penelope wasn't exaggerating when she said it was remote. It had been raining and the trucks really struggled to get up the muddy hills, we had to put chains on the wheel of our van. It made me wonder how they get to the hospital in rainy season. (Unfortunately I found out the answer - they walk. It wasn't very comforting).
After an hour driving along narrow mud tracks we arrived at the village. The head man was there to welcome us and several of the villagers were watching from their doorways. We lived with the villagers in their stilted, wooden huts, sleeping on the floor and cooking on wood fires. Our hosts were very welcoming and it was humbling how willing they were to give up their own space and comforts for us.
The first few days of the project were exhausting. Each morning we walked four kilometres to the water source (mostly uphill) carrying the two metre pipes that would transport the water back. Then we would head back to the bottom of the hill to pick up more pipes or a bag of concrete. Although it was tiring, it was still thrilling to be balancing along the narrow paths in the rice fields, passing farmers collecting the harvest and stopping off at a hut to eat some freshly picked jack fruit (which tasted like a cross between a melon and a pineapple).
Once the equipment was gathered we started hoeing the trench. It had to be two foot deep and four kilometres long and we had only man power to dig it. But the Karen are experts at digging and we were finished in a week. It was mostly the women digging (many with children tied onto their backs), the men went ahead to cut a path or brought up the rear cutting roots and laying the pipe.
n the evenings we were pretty exhausted but still found the energy to play some football with the villagers or watch a Thai boxing match on one of the three solar powered televisions in the village. We tried watching a football match one night but in the 55th minute we suddenly ran out of electricity - I still don't know who won. Padatoo, our translator, showed us how to make some Thai curries and Tadour (whose house we were living in) often brought out bits of their meal for us to try. After dinner we usually felt ready for bed but a neighbour would then appear, with his children, hopefully holding up a guitar. Then Matt or John would play and we'd all sing along and soon find we weren't that tired at all. We'd only stop when Tadour hinted that she wanted to go to sleep.
Once the pipe was laid we started building the storage tanks. I think that was the part we all enjoyed the most. It felt like we were working with the villagers in a team rather than just working next to them, as it had felt when we were digging. The first task was to move the piles of sand and rock from the road up a steep slope to the side of the tanks. It took about twenty of us two days to pass it all up in a bucket chain. We couldn't help thinking that, if we could have a digger, one man would have moved them in an hour. I think being a small team on a big project added to the experience. We felt really useful, especially when we were racing to finish filling the moulds before the rain started.
Actually building the tanks was, once again, very labour intensive. There was no cement mixer so we had to put the sand, cement, rocks and water in a shallow pit and mix it using our hoes. It was very hard going. Even the Karen men, who probably have more strength and endurance than a blues rower, had to take frequent breaks. We all took our turn, then everyone helped to pour the concrete into the moulds. As the tank grew, we set up some bamboo scaffolding, cut from a plantation at the bottom of the village. It was quite a thrill to see the tanks growing so fast and when they were finished the view from the top was incredible.
The piping to all the houses still had to be laid. There was already a lot of pipe from the original system and, considering our track record, the villagers decided it would be best if we didn't do any digging. Instead we helped out with the plastering, which I don't think any of us were sorry about.
And suddenly it was all finished. We had a couple, much needed, days to rest and recuperate before the big party. That last day was probably the best of our time in the village. We picked out all the leftover toys we'd brought and spent hours playing with the children (and some of the adults as well). They were so excited by the balloons and the bubbles. When we brought out the skipping rope one of the men suddenly came running down the road and leapt into the rope. He was soon showing us all sorts of tricks and games to play with it; clearly he had some fond memories of skipping when he was young.
The feast that night was provided by the charity. The KFC "bucket" seems pretty pathetic in comparison to our actual bucket (still with a little concrete attached) full to the brim with freshly slaughtered, spit roasted pork. As it grew dark we lit a big bonfire in the centre of the village. There was singing, dancing and speeches and a lot of homemade rice whisky. At the end we were all presented with woven shoulder bags which the women had made especially for us. Next morning all the villagers gathered to see us off and, with that, we were gone.
Thankfully, although my time in the village was over, I still had a couple weeks left in Thailand. The charity kindly took us on a jungle trek, which they do with all the volunteers. We had fun (and some unpleasant surprises) trying the wild herbs and fruits, learning to use a slingshot and an old fashioned musket, catching various bizarre creepy crawlies and watching Vera and Aka catch fish for our tea. The scenery was incredible and it was quite exciting when Nootsabar pointed to an adjacent hill saying, "See that hill there? That's Burma."
my strongest memories are of the village. The endurance and strength of the Karen never ceased to amaze me. We found it frustrating to spend hours doing a job we knew would take five minutes with a digger but that didn't bother the Karen. Despite the apparent difficulties the work was done incredibly quickly and probably faster than a British building firm would have achieved (the Karen take fewer tea breaks) as well as causing much less damage to the environment.
It was also clear how strong the relationships in the village were. Families spent nearly all day together and neighbours happily wandered in and out of each other's houses. And they share everything. We found it strange at first, as they would just pick your diary and start inspecting it but we came to appreciate their lack of reserve and open curiosity.
The inspirational people I have met left the greatest impression of all. First Penelope Worsley, who set up the charity almost singlehanded in a country which, at that time, was much more dangerous and unfamiliar than it is now. What struck me the most was her respect and love for the Karen which is the source of her dedication to the charity.
There was also Padatoo, who looked after us in the village, and Pipeet, my tour guide on my trip around northern Thailand. Both had the quirky Thai sense of humour which I came to love (although I still can't get Pipeet's elephant song out of my head as he sang it at every opportunity). And both were among the most generous and caring people I have ever met, a trait I came across many times while in Thailand. One of the most touching moments of the trip was a visit to a refugee camp for hilltribe families escaping persecution in Burma. I remember Pipeet, with two kids in his arms, close to tears as he explained their current predicament. Pipeet himself has three children of his own and supports the education of four more as well as frequently volunteering at his local orphanage.
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