A Trip to Montagnards...
Mac
Montagnards
- a minority people, in every sense of the word
URL is: << http://home.earthlink.net/~2551/id29.html >>
We departed Ha Noi for a trip west into the mountains of Hoa Binh
Province. While leaving the city, we passed a mound of about 10 meters
in height and 50 in diameter. Nga explained that it is a burial mound
for Chinese soldiers killed here in 938, when Chinese rule was
overthrown. Entering the countryside, I discovered the important dikes
about which we heard much during the war. The road itself ran along
the side of one of these big dikes. It seems to be almost 20 meters
high and a a hundred wide at the base. It was easy to see that bombing
the dikes would have flooded vast areas of farmland and would have
diverted a great deal of labor from transporting war material to the
south. The dikes were never bombed. I think because it was thought
civilians would suffer. I think there were no civilians, but the dikes
would have been hard to break anyhow. There is a hydro station here,
built by the Russians. The dam backs up a lake 240 km long. There is a
memorial there commemorating over 600 people who were killed when a
tunnel collapsed during construction.
Leaving our packs at a guest house two km west of Hoa Binh, we headed
further west on a gravel road into a valley where several hill tribes
live. It was the people of such villages which were organized in the
South by Green Beret A Teams. As we drove more and more slowly over
the very rough road, we began to see the stilt houses of the mountain
people. Children lead Water Buffalo to graze, often riding on their
backs standing up, sometimes hanging on the horns, or even holding on
to the tails. The animals just walk along in a daze. Women cull grass
out of small, terraced rice fields. We arrived, chauffeured, in a
Lexus. I felt conspicuous, but walking the dirt path into the village,
we were greeted warmly. There are 12 families in this tribe of Muong
People. As we neared the end of the path, our guide made conversation
with a woman, who then invited us into their house. We climbed up and
removed our shoes. The house has one large room built on stilts with a
bamboo floor and frame, woven matting for siding, and a thatched roof.
It is situated on the side of the hill with a wonderful, cooling
breeze coming up underneath the bamboo floor from the beautiful valley
below. It was cool and wonderful. Our hostess unrolled their sleeping
mat onto the floor and invited us to sit. We sat cross-legged on the
mat near a open place in the wall overlooking the valley. Mrs. Muong
served Cha in tiny tea cups. John promptly overturned his on the
sleeping mat. Mrs. Muong quickly refilled it. Through Gna, we had a
wonderful conversation about families and children. She has only 5,
and apologized for her failure to have a suitable sized family. Most
families have 12, she said. (This is spite of the official government
policy limiting children to two.) I asked about school. It is very
expensive, she told us. "We have a pig. If we can sell it, maybe one
daughter can go this year," she said. The husband joined us with his
bong. It is made of bamboo and is about 2 ft long and 2 inches in
diameter. He actually sucked on the 2 inch end and bubbled the smoke
through water in the bottom part. Mrs. Muong brought out a bottle with
a stick stuck in the mouth, opened it, and poured each of us 2 fingers
of a cloudy, evil looking home brew. It wasn't bad if one held one's
breath. John turned to look out the window and knocked over his drink
on the sleeping mat.
I asked if I can leave some money for the children. Mrs. Muong said
no, but would I please look at some of the family's handicrafts. She
had a carved frog used as a musical instrument and a little woven
basket, for which I gladly gave her 50,000 Dong. It was the best
50,000 I ever spent. John spilled his tea.
Mrs. Muong took us into the second room of her house, the kitchen,
where there is a 4 ft hearth and a fire going. There is no chimney of
any kind, but lots of ventilation. Walking outside, Mrs. Muong showed
us the tools she uses to process rice for food. I notice around back
is the family rice field. Mrs. Muong asked us to stay the night, but
we declined. She said please to bring my wife and other child to visit
her someday. I assured her that they would enjoy her hospitality and
her family very much.
Heading further west, we reached a point where the Lexus just isn't
going any further, so we walked from there into a Daw (Zow) village.
It is very different. The houses are not as neat and the main crop at
this higher elevation is sugar cane. A woman was digging in a dry
hillside with a pick, looking for cassava.
Our driver and guide headed off alone to go somewhere else, leaving us
in the stilt guest house in Hoa Binh. We had asked to stay there for
the experience of it, but rather quickly began to wonder what we are
going to do with ourselves. Ok, I found out. It was a delightful time.
As we walked down the street, the children were delighted to see us.
The old people called out to us in French. We found a hand written
sign that said, "Bia Hoi", which means "Draft Beer". We walked up to
the little stand to find grand mom, daughter, son 10, and son 8,
excited and shy at the same time. Two bearded Americans walked in and
asked for Bia Hoi. It was almost too much. It must be a once in a
lifetime event here in the west of North Vietnam. Soon a crowd of
youngsters and a few adults gathered and daughter got us a liter of
beer they undoubtedly refill in town somewhere every now and then. We
drank it gratefully and ate four packages of the wonderful red peanuts
they grow here. With many smiles and some laughter, we did the
conversation about children and ages. I was asked by sign to guess the
age of grand mom. I wrote down "39". That caused much laughter, and
she wrote "66". She looks 88, and commands the respect this culture
has for the elderly. In a country with a 43 year life span, she has
done very well.
Walking back to our stilt guest house, people hailed us from their
windows and carried their small children to the roadside so they could
see us. One woman brought a dog, hugging it and pointing to us; or,
was she offering us a meal. I'm not sure.