Cliffs and sands but empty hands

Hi,

So I'm on "vacation" now, spending just three or four days down at a place called Railay beach in Krabi province. This is really the epicenter for climbing, especially beach climbing, in Thailand, which is largely why I came. It's beautiful: the ocean, the sand, the cliffs, the room, everything is very nice. But I'm feeling a bit more lonesome than I did before, probably on account of all the chummy tourists everywhere, but it's nice to be taking a break, and I'll probably be able to get some work done.

The staff at the little bungalow/hotel thing I'm staying at certainly have taken a fast liking to me. It almost seems like they were just sitting around waiting for some Westerner who spoke Thai to show up, because they keep asking me to translate Thai sentences into English that they didn't know how to say before. They also seem to be genuinely happy that there's a tourist who speaks Thai, which is a nice feeling for ol' holier than thou me.

While bouldering around on one of the cliffs this afternoon I did make a friend, an American named B.J. who's from Washington State. He agreed to go with me and his buddy to do some deep water free soloing tomorrow mornign, which should be exciting, to say the least, and is the main reason I am here, to be honest. Let's just hope the weather holds out.

Deep water free soloing is climbing high without a rope on a cliff where there's no chance you would hit anything but water after your fall. Very fun, very un-dangerous. I just wish I was in better climbing shape!

On the bus this morning I got a call from Jiew, on Koh Hlao, who was just wondering where I was, and he told me that they all missed me and that I should come back right away. That was nice. And then Phii Naw called to, and told me she wasn't mad at me and wanted to talk to me before I left and was really worried I was already gone. So there's another interesting conversation that's going to happen.

Ok. Internet here is 10c a minute, so I'm going to keep it relatively short. Keep your shirts tucked in.

Nobody knows the trouble i've seen

This has been an interesting week. A lot of stuff has happened that I guess I'll tell you about which means I don't get to tell you as many boring old details as those get lost in the fray.

The rumors started last week, or maybe even the week before, when Phii Naw told the Moken on Koh Hlao that I gave each household on the Thai side of Koh Hlao B4000 ($110). This rumor was spread first to falsely raise the hopes of the Moken, and secondly to make them think that I was holding out on them. I did my best to quell these rumors when I returned, I think with success. The other rumor, also perpetrated by Phii Naw, is that I had taken See (my consultant) as my “wife.” Most Moken dismissed this as quickly as I did. While we do necessarily have to spend time together to do fieldwork, it is always in the open, never behind closed doorss, and there are always people around in the neigboring houses. Not to mention the fact that See has a husband and a child.

Anyways, I learned also that Phii Naw has a history of violence with the Moken, having slapped four women, one just yesterday, hit one man with a shoe. All of these people were small and slender. She also has family, some who I know, who have had second jobs as essentially pirates, reportedly pillaging small Burmese boats, stealing their money and raping their women. I didn’t realize until late last week the level to which the Moken are actually terrified of Phii Naw, that she is their biggest problem and most formidable oppressor, and that I stayed with her for the first week, listening to her insistent lies and strange faith (e.g. she puts the Bible under her children’s head when sick), and only slowly growing suspicious that my money, not the Moken were her main concern.

I’ve done my best to undo the damage I did to my own reputation by staying with her, and in the meantime have made a rather formidable enemy. Phii Naw now refuses to talk to me--will not meet my eyes. The Moken all seem to like me more than ever, though they have on various occasions begged me not to go have a heart to heart with Naw, feeling than any anger stirred up in her will most likely be taken out on them.

Two basic actions were taken this week on my part which widened the already considerable gap between us, though this doesn’t really bug me. The first thing I did arose relating to my little gift to the Moken earlier this week: after consulting some friends, I distributed 15kg bags of rice to every household on each island as a small thank you for being good hosts and also to help them in the particularly difficult rainy season. I fail to give enough money to ‘charity’ as it is, and I wanted to do something to express my appreciation and make them feel like I wasn’t keeping all of my western money to myself. Maybe I did it out of guilt. I don’t know. Consult last weeks post for additional extensive rationale. I did decide, rather trivially to me, to distribute the rice only the the Moken households, thus leaving out the two Thai denizens of Koh Hlao, namely, a certain Acarn Vichay and Phi Naw herself, who incidentally hasn’t slept on the island for even one night since I’ve been here, and only started opening her shop during the day after I distributed the rice and was on the island (confirmed by surprise trips back to the island to check). Phii Naw has since made hay of this fact, claiming that she and Vichay feel hurt and neglected, and that I am horribly inconsiderate for not also giving them a bag of rice, never mind the fact that a) their not Moken b) the Moken are afraid of them and c) they’re not nearly as poor as the Moken.

Acarn Vichay is a former Thai pastor, former best friend of Acarn Sien (pastor of the church in Ranong), former UN diplomat of some kind, and current sketchball. He is small, probably 5’6”, thin, over 70 years old, and is currently sporting long, stringy white hair on a mostly balding head, a new addition since last year. Acarn Vichay has a past of having affairs with women, then remarrying, then repeating. When he was assigned as some sort of pastor to Koh Hlao after the church in Ranong began their outreach there last year, he decided he wanted to move to Koh Hlao for life, to live with the Moken, in order to help the children and distribute medicine, according to his own noble claims to me at the beginning of last summer. Anyways, his wife at the time refused to move to the island, Vichay refused to compromise by moving close to but not on the island, so he felt justified in not worrying about that wife anymore I guess, and in a matter of three or four months had his very own Moken wife, of some approximately 40 years. She is a very small woman who has always talked very little to me.

This year, when half the Moken village moved to Elephant Island primarily for fear, helplessness and frustration with Phii Naw herself as I now correctly understand, she went also. The Moken have on numerous occasions referred to this event as Vichay's ‘throwing away of the wife.' I have no idea what actually made her want to leave. Anyways, Vichay evidently has a long history of inviting young girls, usually teenagers, into his house for reading/writing lessons, coffee, and snacks. Usually it has been a single girl (that is, one girl at a time), making repeated visits. See (my consultant) was once one of these girls, and learned to read Thai from Vichay, but now is afraid of him, saying most Moken women don’t trust him, are worried he might rape them. She tells of one incident when she was with him in his house, drinking coffee, and he shut the door, and just looked at her, but she says nothing happened though she knew what he wanted to do, because he was a coward.

I know he did sleep with one younger girl, how young I’m not sure, but she became pregnant, and gave birth to his child, but the child died, and the girl was sent to live with her family in Burma.

About three weeks ago, Acarn Vichay asked the oldest sister of a three orphaned sisters if she would give Vichay her youngest sister, Honey, as his wife. Reports of Honey’s age range from 15-18, she claimed to not actually know her age when I spoke with her, but she looked 15 and said she was 13. Vichay was offering B3000 ($90) and a cell phone to her oldest sister for facilitating the transaction. Many Moken were very upset by this turn of events, largely by the 60 year age gap, though they did seem to think it was good that he had money (he receives a monthly pension from the U.N.).

See, my consultant, was among the most outspoken in her opposition, and last Saturday night her opposition came to a verbal exchange with Phii Naw, who was supporting the Vichay purchase, possibly (hearsay) on account of a substantial loan Vichay made to her last month. I imagine that this initial event made Naw feel even more uncomfortable with my presense for two reasons. First, See being my consultant and coming to verbal blows with Naw basically shows my implicit acceptance of her position, and secondly, I stated very clearly to Naw the week I was staying with her that I thought Vichay’s behavior on the island was plain wrong, so she knew by coming to his defence she was in a sense putting herself at odds with me.

Earlier this week, as concerned about the situation as the Moken and myself, a western couple who have been doing some reasearch for NGOs on this Moken group contacted a couple Thai NGOs to inform them of the situation. They (the two westerners) were informed that something would be done. I called Acarn N. in Bangkok the next day, who also said something would be done. I waited for two days, and nothing happened. Meanwhile, See said that Honey had already told her that she would like to leave Koh Hlao, and go live with a group of Moken in the province to the south if possible. Then on Thursday, I met with Honey and her older sister, the middle of the three, who also opposed the union, and asked her if she had the money, would she leave. She said yes, her sister agreed to help her leave, so I gave them the money, and they left yesterday.

I don’t know if this sort of aggressive intervention was ultimately good or bad. I don’t really want to think about this anymore. By Friday, Naw was spending considerable time on Koh Hlao, stirring up any kind of trouble she could, and I just got sick of it, and was basically done with my fieldwork anyways, so left. On Monday I’m going to Krabi, hopefully going climbing, and hopefully doing my very best to completely forget about the whole situation for a couple days. I’ll probably come back next week for just a couple days to say ‘Hi’ again, and maybe do some followup.

This whole story has taken so long to tell I don’t know what else to say. Despite everything, my relationship with almost all the Moken on the island, besides the close confidants of Naw herself, is better than ever. They all want me to come back, they say they’ll miss me, etc. At the same time, I’ve been having a rising doubt as to why I even came here in the first place.

When I first started studying linguistics, fieldwork seemed to me to be the ultimate life and academic experience all rolled into one: living with a native people group, trying to work out complex linguistic patterns while seamlessly integrating into their lives. “This is pretty Indiana Jones for a linguist," Jude, the female member of the western couple, said to me on our way to Koh Chang a couple weeks ago, and I shrugged it off but beamed inside.

Still, a lot of questions have been coming up lately that I don’t have good answers to. Like maybe I just don’t belong here--maybe these people really just shouldn’t be seeing white people at all? Am I anything more than a reminder of Western patriarchy and wealth, and while there’s humanity to meet beneath it, and that’s meaningful, do I add anything to their lives that someone else couldn't add just as well? (Does love need to travel?) And is there really a pressing need to understand the complex inner workings of every single language under the sun? Maybe there are just some things we shouldn’t know.

And then there’s me and my life. The Moken live in such close community, brothers, sisters, children, cousins, parents, everyone is around, sometimes under the same roof, often next door, at most a couple islands away. But we are so spread out, and we live through lines and screens, and wait in enormous shiny buildings for the people we love most to come walking out a big shiny door, but we ignore the people on the streets, because we choose our community. Please don't take this as an accusation against anyone, just an observation, and me trying to share a sense that I'm feeling that despite how much we have in a country like America, maybe there's just as much that we don't have.

These titles are dumb since the date's right there ^

A Typical Day on Hlao Island

I wake up, usually at around 6:15, always awakened by a rooster cock-a-doodle-doodling and the fierce bubbling of the frying battered bananas in oil across the room. The room is the house of Pa Iat, who is a 50-60ish year old widow who has graciously allowed me to sleep on her floor, with the other five people who sleep on her floor including See my consultant, her two adopted grandkids, and two other teenage guys. It's a split level, and me and the guys sleep above while See and Pa Iat and the kids sleep below. While it costs her nothing despite a dose of hospitality in the form of a mat on the floor and a mosquito smoke ring to do so, she is at least ensured a little business when I wake up, and purchase coffee, a little bowl of stir-fried vermicelli noodles, and sometimes the fried bananas, each for 5B a pop (15c). After I've eaten said items, or sometimes before, I take care of morning sundrie and observe various members of the village walk up to the store and purchase said items for their children or themselves and chat with them, making eloquent and insightful remarks in Moken. (/lakaaw bita/="Where are you going?" /nganyan eng ano-la/='What's your name?', /nyamaan kaa/="Is it delicous?", /nyam ka'/ 'No, thank you, I've already eaten.', /patang ka'/='Thank you again, but really, I'm already full.'). After a while, I'll go bathe.

If there's been a lot of rain, I can just walk across the street, to the hose of Nyora and Yara', where I've been eating, and, using the basins of water filled by the previous night's rain, dump water with a much smaller basin/bowl (English is such a lexically impoverished language!) over my head. You shower clothed in Thailand, which extends culturally to the Moken, I guess. Anyways, bathing clothed various from shirts and pants (See's preferred method) to just your underwear (Jiew's preferred method) to everything in between. I like a pair of shorts, or else my Pakama (sarong), which also facilitates the post-shower clothes change.

One of the beauties of of showering in your underwear is you get to wash your underwear AND your body at the same time, ensuring, effectively, that you'll never run out of underwear, though occasionally a good launder is warranted.

If there hasn't been much rain, as was the case for two or three days this week, the basins empty quickly, and you resort to Plan B. Plan B is a small spring-fed cinderblock-ringed basin down the beach, about a 5-10 minute walk away. The springwater can only be reached at mid-to-low tide, and there is often a line when you arrive. The water feeds into the spring slowly, about like a faucet half turned on, and you often have to stand around admiring the scenery before you get to bath and enjoy your walk back to the village, air drying all the way.

Admiring the scenery for the most part involves visually inspecting the diverse and colorful piles of trash that have been washed up by the previous high tide, as well as admiring the kaleidoscopic plastic bags on the lower branches of the mangroves. You can also admire the natural beauty of the beach, sea, forest, and crabs, once the trash has lost its fleeting appeal.

After bathing and walking back, sometimes inspecting peoples various net catches and chatting a bit, I'll either start doing fieldwork for a little bit, which I'll get to in a second, or eat morning rice (one of two ricings). They always wait for me to eat, probably just because I'm a guest to be polite. They've been making very good food for me since I've been there, and I've been helping them pay a bit too, after consulting See. I give about B100, which probably covers a significant portion of it which is good since somewhere around nine people almost always eat at Yara's house besides me, including Yara' and Nyowa, the married couple who built the house, their three kids Dinda ~11?, Enen ~8?, and Sude~5? (the youngest and oldest being girls), also Sali, who I don't think has a father and is about Enen's age, Tatam, who is Yara's cousin, Yara's parents, Ebap Ngore and Ebum Liye', and See, my consultant, who is married and has a kid with Yara's brother, Puket, who is currently in prison in the Nicobar Islands.

Anyways, I think I'm going to make a big grocery shopping trip tomorrow before heading back to the island instead of the cash gifts, at See's suggestion, who is excellent informing me of what is culturally expected of me at any given moment. Because I'm there, they make a lot of dishes, and I have to try all of them, and they're almost always good, and I haven't been sick once.

The food is eaten sitting on the ground on the porch of the house around a small table, probably 10 inches off the ground, which can be moved around. This is common throughout southeast Asia, or at least in Thailand, I believe. The Moken eat with their hands, like lots of people in the world, but when I ate my first meal on Hlao Island everyone at the table was eating with spoons, Ngore rather maladroit-and-sheepishly. Knowing that they prefer to eat with their hands, I decided the only way to help them get over their hand-eating anxiety was to eat with my hands, which I did (and which is fun buta little messy). After insisting that I actually eat with my spoon once or twice, and me ignoring their insistence, I was pleased to see that in the following meals those who wanted to resumed eating with their hands. So that was good. After I eat, there's a basin of water at the table which I drink a big drink from after washing my hands with, and that's it.

Despite See's insistence that I eat with her in-laws, and the completely overwhelming hospitality which they've offered and continue to extend to me, I know there must be countless times in a day when I destroy some cultural taboo or another despite my best efforts and sensitivity. Sometimes even the most backwards behavior which initially seems destructive can be later seen to play a socially important role. I'm specifically thinking of the whole matter of resource sharing and asking, or demand sharing. A couple days ago, when See was at a meeting with some Moken talking to the governor of Ranong, I cracked open Acarn N.'s dissertation on the Moken and read.

"It is widely accepted that the pattern of distribution among foragers is characterized by voluntary sharing. This form of sharing is sometimes called "unsolicited giving", in contrast to the other form of sharing which is achieved by asking or demanding."

Of this other form of sharing, Narumon writes: "Unlike voluntary sharing, "demand sharing" is generally instigated from the assertion of the potential recipients instead of being initiated by the donor-contrubutors...The concept of "demand sharing" and "begging" has not been led into broad anthropological discussion. According to Peterson (1993:869) 'it has been neglected because off the particular ethical construction that Westerners place on generosity -- that of outwardly unsolicited and altruistic giving.'"

Interesting!

She goes on: "Demand sharing is an essential part of the levelling mechanism which contributes to the maintenance of egalitarianism and conservatism among most foragers, because 'Demand sharing clearly makes accumulation difficult.' (Peterson again)...The philosophy of demand sharing is actually a reverse of 'keeping up with the Jonses.' In Western capitalistic societies, the accumulation of wealth and prestige is encouraged, and people compete to hve at least as much as their neighbors or peers. In foraging societies, the principle of the sharing rules, and wealth is brought down and shared among others as an effective form of redistribution."

And then finally:

"N. Peterson (1993:864) investigates demand sharing among the Australian Abirigines and puts forth an interesting finding -- demand sharing actually relieves the potential givers of the responsibility to decide with whom to share surplus...Peterson suggests further that '...demands can be refused. This can usually be done only by hiding, secretive behavior, and lying (1993: 864). These three strategies do not work well in foraging societies where everyone knows so much about everyone else...Demand sharing works as a repetitive reinforcement of the obligation to give."

Narumon goes on to discuss four "levels" of demand sharing, the most affable of which is "Indirect demand sharing: complaint and question."

There's no saying the extent to which an outsider can actually participate in this system. I might actually be wrong in projecting myself as being a part of their community and necessarily within their cultural rules. But it does seem, at least, that they have been considering me stingy for not giving them the small gifts when they ask for them, especially to older, or less fortunate members of the community.

My earlier approach had been to not spend any money myself, attempting to find solidarity by faking poverty, but "Service (1966:14) suggests that 'economizing' is not a common practice among foragers; 'they admire generosity, they expect hospitality, they punish thrift as selfishness." There was an incident on Monday where I went to this little event at the library that had been put on where there was a little Art Exhibit of pictures that had been taken on Koh Hlao and the kids danced a little bit to these funny little cute songs. A guy I was with, Phenat, asked me to buy him some chicken on a stick, because I didn't have any money. I refused, because I wasn't going to plan on any myself, planning on "dinner when I get home" and what not. But my behavior, in retrospect, was miserly in Moken eyes. I clearly had the money, and I should have bought him, and me, and whoever wanted it, chicken on a stick. I need to realize that I'm not fooling anybody, and 10B chicken purchases and B20 handouts won't make me go broke, and that God loves a cheerful giver.

While I had earlier been feeling like there were these few pesky individuals in the community who kept talking about how little they had, thinking that those individuals where just complainers and liked handouts. Instead, I realized (and talked to See about this too), that they actually do have it really hard right now (duh) and they are working well within their cultural framework of identifying a community member with the capacity and resources to help them, temporary as it may be (yours truly). They usually make modest requests (20-30 baht). Some of them, and I'm talking about older women here, clearly drink, but I am beginning to feel that this doesn't necessarily warrant my refusing them money. I talked to See about this, and she said while I didn't have to give them something, it certainly wouldn't be a problem if I did. So I gave someone who was going on about how she didn't have any fish or soup B20, and that was that.

Scaling this up, there have still been a couple of really informal requests for nets that I've thought maybe I should make at least partial contributions towards, maybe in the $30-50 range, or something like that. I've learned since my original request that the nets can be bought piecemeal, one 'head' at a time, and as few as three to five heads can serve as effective for fishing. So I've been contemplating making more minor net "donations", more in the B1000 range, to people to come ask for them, but not planning any large scale distribution, as these top-down approaches tend to lead to disaster. The Moken's nets are frequently stolen by the Thais (like, one was just stolen yesterday), and I feel really bad because I clearly have the ability to help a bit. While I've since come to realize that many of the Moken aren't as impoverished as I initially thought, I've also come to realize that because of that there won't be a desperate rush for equal compensation when I grant someone's request for a small gift, and that an answer as simple as "he asked first and I don't have enough anymore" is enough to ward of ensuing requests, again as a result of observing their behavior. Anyways...

After morning rice, I usually begin my fieldwork, which lasts on the good days for a full four hours. The fieldwork is a chore but occasionally enourmously rewarding, and See is a great informant, as she likes just sitting around naturally, is very smart, and has a good sense of humor. The ideal place we've found to do work is actually on the front porch of a house built by Action Aid, a British relief organization. The house is one of the furthest out in the water, and affords both an excellent view of the days activities taking place around us, as well as a constant, cool breeze.

One of See's (therefore my) favorite recent activities has been the 'fake conversation', where in I have a conversation with someone taking out their boat or living in one of the next houses over. Yelled conversations are very frequent among the Moken. The game involves me yelling something in Moken after See tells me what to say and laughs hysterically after I say it. The game has the advantage of first giving the Moken an impression that I speak excellent Moken while simultaneously relieving me of the stress of saying something culturally appropriate. The more mild conversations simply involve someone going out in their boat to drop their nets, and me asking about what they're looking for, etc. I never want to say what See wants me to say, but she always insists I say it while laughing. Remember that this is See speaking through me. Some examples:

Me: "Hey! What are you doing!"
Neighbor: "I'm making a treat for the kids!"
Me: "How many kids do you have!" (Knowing she has a lot)
Neighbor: "Six!"
Me: "Why do you have so many kids!"
Neighbor: "The Lord gave them to me!"
Me: "Lies!"
*Uproarious laughter ensues*

(Note: this is not intended as a religious slam, I don't think, but rather the Moken version of a somewhat dirty joke.)

Another:

Me: "Hey! What are you doing!"
Guy sitting in boat: "Drinking!"
Me: "Why?!"
Guy in boat: "Because I don't have any money!"
Me: "Lies!! How do you buy your liquor!?"
Guy in boat: ...somethng I don't understand, but I'm supposed to say...
Me: "You're are bad!" (uproarious laughter)
Guy in boat: ...something else I don't understand...
Me: "You are a bad person!!" (more uproarious laughter)

Or simply:
Me: "Where are you going!"
Guy leaving in boat: "To drop my nets!"
Me: "What have you been catching?"
Guy: "Nothing. And I have no money."
Me: "Lies!!" (uproarious laughter)

You probably see the pattern. Remember that See is dictating my words. At least they all seem to be pretty light hearted, and these conversations have actually been enormously constructive culturally. The Moken are far less reserved than almost any other aisian culture I know. This isn't really that surprising, but it makes me feel much less social anxiety. If I do somthing wrong, they'll tell me, and if they want something, they'll let me know.

After fieldwork, I'll walk around a little, chat with different people, and eat evening rice, usually at around five, sometimes after a second bath. Around nightfall, the generator goes on, and the TV's all do do. I usually sit in Nara's house, my computer plugged in, and do work while watching the TV. At around nine I put the computer away, and go over to Pa Iat's house, where I go to bed.

***

I realize now that before this week I saw the Moken as characters in some sort of cultural play. Instead, obviously, they're people with names and children who eat food, cuddle with their kids, brush their teeth, and watch T.V. I had thought that in order to enter into commmunity with the Moken I had to somehow earn their trust, prove to them how culturally sensitive or fair I was, or learn to speak Moken really well. I have found this week that community is much simpler than that. You just tell them about yourself and listen to their stories, and share your time. It now seems so simple that I feel dumb saying it, but while it can be hard to get there, once you meet someone in simple relation, the artifices of culture and fear disappear, and that's it.

Today, I went to Acarn Sien's church and Pa Iat with her adopted grandson and Ebum Liye' came in, the only two, and came up and sat in my aisle, near the front. Ebum leaned over and asked if I was coming back to Koh Hlao that day, and I said no, and she asked why, and I told her I had to do a visa run to Burma (which has now been done successfully). After church I sat with them and ate the meal, and chatted in Moken, me speaking poorly, of course. (Still, they always seem to prefer even a bad Moken conversation to a good Thai one and continue to think I understand everything their saying.) I don't think I had any better friends there today than them. I took the little truckbus back towards the pier with them, and paid their fare and gave them some money for gas on the way back, and said "I'm going now" in Moken, and that was it.

Week 3, Sunday: Longest Post Ever (in three acts)

Act I: I'm Losing It
While this trip so far has been worth making, it has submitted me once again to my relentlessly dangerous absentmindedness and general forgetfulness. I'm sure those of you who know me well enough issued a collective groan when I reported that after a week I'd lost my first phone (my number here, by the way is 08-1397-5133. My Skype name is cephasjenks in case I'm on, which is rare). While I admitted the likelihood of my actually having lost the phone, I noted at the time the conspicuous convergence of the phone's loss and my sleeping for eight hours on a crowded bus. Nevertheless, I submit that the phone was in all likelyhood just ignored for long enough to be forgot about and then disappear before I could find it again.

Since then, I've remained silent in past blogs about other small losses, as they were small, but frustrating. My $8 watch (probably the 10th of my life to go that way) and my wonderful and necessary raincoat (replaced by the infinitely inferior Thai 'plastic bag raincoat' because the raincoat is basically made out of plastic bag material).

I still have my laptop, still have my camera, still have the CephasPhone Mark II, still have my passport, still have my secret cash stash, still have my wallet...

Or not. The wallet, that is. This past weekend, Friday and Saturday, I took a bustrip down to Phang-Nga (the next province to the south of Ranong) which was the province hit the hardest by the tsunami (in the form of an 11 meter wave. Not kidding). There was a big meeting there between different minority groups and generally disenfranchised people and the NGOs who support them and the assistant Prime Minister and other various potentially corrupt Thai government officials. The whole thing was rather sad (I'll write more about this later), but the sad part was that I lost my wallet on the way down.

The last time I remember using it (because that's what I know mom would ask me) was at a 7-11 at a gas station just outside of ranong on the way out. I bought a bottle of water and this Thai menthol nose thing that clears stuffy noses. (Dr. Kasuga is making a suspicious face, I'm sure). Anyways, everything cost something like 70 cents and I paid it and that's the last time I remember having my wallet in my hand. When I got back onto the bus, I decided to take a nap, and I didn't think about my wallet again until that night, getting ready to sleep on the floor of a schoolroom, I looked for my wallet everywhere and didn't find it. So amid the hubbub I was crushed by apparent failure to behave like a responsible adult. (I went back to 7-11 today (two days later) and they hadn't seen the wallet).

In the wallet was about $12, but also my MA driver's license, my atm card, a credit card, and my harvard id. There is absolutely no reason the last four items should have been in my wallet, I now realize, and in all international travel from now on I won't leave them there. Being naive as I was, or stupid more likely, I basically had my American cadre of plastic on hand to be lost.
While I keep saying lost, there's a little something at the back of my brain that has made the following observation: both my first phone and my wallet were lost while on a bus. I fell asleep on both bus rides. It's possible that I put my phone/wallet in my bag or the pouch in front of my both times, or it could have been on me (but then I would have it?). So I don't know. Anyways, there's no excuse for the situation I'm in. The card's being rushed to Somerville, though, and I know this really cute there who kind of likes me and I'm going to ask her to send me the new card here in Thailand. Not the end of the world, just a relatively bad day. Fortunately I had a little stockpile of cash in another place and my (Replacement for a Lost) Passport so I'm ok for a while.

Act II: The Powers that Be
So this conference I went to was basically a time for various NGOs who had done tsunami relief to report on rebuilding structures, and then mostly for different minority groups to make complaints and ask for citizenship, etc. The Mirror Foundation, which is a Thai organization working for citizenship rights for minority groups. The Assistant or Vice Prime Minister was there, which I guess is something.

Anyways, most of the other people there were Muslim, who also really have something to complain about when it comes to the way the Thai government has treated them. I was there with the Moken, there, and the only white person there the first day and the only one until later on the second day. The Moken generally seemed to be glad I was there, though, and I got to talk with a lot of them during the trip, which was good.

Anyways, the actual presentations consisted of a bunch of powerpoint presentations. The Moken issue was relatively close to the end of the initial dispute session before the government response, and there were two Moken men up there and Phii Naw, who I stayed with last week, who has a silver tongue. The Moken man (Jiew) went first. The basic translation of what he said is first. "Hello. My Name is Jiew. I am Moken. Watch this video." They then showed a video which relayed the information to the bored-looking government officials about how some 80 Moken living on Koh Surin (an island farther to the South than Ranong with another Moken community) had been granted citizenship due to the efforts of Acarn. N (who was the first professor I met in Thailand). After the video concluded, Jiew continued saying something like: "It is very difficult living where I live. It is more difficult because we don't have citizenship cards. The Moken at Koh Surin were given citizenship cards, but we still do not have cards." He then paused and said "Phi Naw will say more."

I'm not making fun of Jiew. There's something absurd about asking the poorest person at the lowest rung of a relatively low economic totem pole to explain the difficulty of his situation and clearly plead his case: justifying the necessity of his getting citizenship and explaining the reason why the Thai government should feel responsible to give it to him. He only knows that he's lived in Thailand all his life (which he probably should have thought to say in addition to what he did), and that he doesn't have any citizenship. But Phi Naw said he was shaking while talking, as I'm sure I would have been, but public speaking to public officials about his problems is as difficult for him I'm sure as diving in the ocean for sea slugs would be for the said public officials.

Anyways, when Phi Naw (Phi is the Thai word for "older sibling", often used as a prefix for people in your generation who are older than you that you know well, hence making it clear to everyone there that he wasn't aware of formal state jargon, using the most colloquial form of address for her) started talking, she gave a very long and eloquent speech about the plight of the Moken. She hit on a lot of issues, including the 19 men who were imprisoned in the Nicobar islands who went because they couldn't find work here and so on. I think she failed to make a bunch of the actual arguments for their citizenship, though, including the fact than many of the Moken were born and raised on Thai islands and that despite the state's claim that they are Burmese most speak only minimal Burmese while speaking very good Thai. I suspect it didn't occur to her to say these things to her because they are so obvious to someone living in the community. She did focus a lot on how hard things are for them. Part of me is starting to wonder if this isn't detrimental, making the Moken feel like they deserve continuous outside aid. More on this later.

In retrospect I kind of wish that I had thought enough and attempted to say something myself. But then again, I'm just a linguist, and am not Thai. It just seems that there were points that weren't made, I guess.

Anyways, after everyone had finished their complaints, the assistant Prime Minister stood up and gave a speech which can be pretty quickly summarized as "The tsunami is the worst disaster Thailand has ever seen. We have accomplished a lot since then, which is great. But there's still lots of problems, and we're really sorry about that. We sympathize with you."

Two other government guys spoke, one of them addressed the Moken issue directly, but I had a harder time understanding him. It seemed that the main content of his talk about the Moken was just that he thought that it was too bad that they wouldn't be able to get citizenship, but they might look into the matter or something. So maybe a glimmer of hope, but it words are cheap and it remains to be seen what happens.

The government position for denying the Moken citizenship is basically that they're Burmese. I must admite that there is a shade of truth to this claim. A number of the Moken now living in Thailand did actually originate in Burma, and many do return at various points. But their home is Thailand and has been for some 30 years now.

This citizenship aspect of the Moken dispute has actually made me contemplate a career change to human rights law work with stateless peoples, trying to force governments to give them citizenship. I don't know anything about how you would go about doing that, or who does it, if anyone, but I've definitely thought about it as a second career. For the time being, it makes sense to continue getting more experience with the actual people involved, I think. Part of the problem, I think, is the continuing existence of rogue governments like Burma's, which basically can't be dealt with at all (being a military dictatorship).

As for why the Moken need state rights, the older brother of the head of the village at Koh Hlao has his left arm cut off just below the elbow and has a really bad limp. He was showing me his leg the other day and telling me the story of how he was in a boat with eight other Moken and the soldiers came, made them give the Moken all of their gasoline, then shot them all. Only he and one other person survived, and he was in a hospital for two months. (His arm was lost dynamite fishing). Anyways, it's stories like that that make you realize that there are some benefits in being a member of a modern Nation-State. The truth is that even if this small group of Thai Moken get their citizenship, the plight for the Burmese Moken will remain as hard.

Act III: I, Thou, Culture, and Money
It might surprise some of you to find that this last week, spent on Elephant Island, was actually the longest extended period I've spent in any Moken village. I think I'm going to try and spend the whole next week on Koh Hlao as well, though I may go on a little expedition to Koh Phayam at the end of the week with Mayay, who is in some of the pictures I'm going to hopefully post in a little bit.

The week was really great. I got a feel of Moken culture, which revolves around a lot of hanging out. You're basically free to walk into anyone's house whenever you want. The Moken feel free to boil water on someone's stove and drink their coffee, chew their beetlenut, and smoke their bootleg cigarettes, even if they're not there. Spending time alone, which I do when I'm working, appears to be relatively abnormal behavior. I learned a lot of names, faces, and heard a lot of stories and family histories. I also figured out the nasal prefix deletion rule, and I think proved that wh-movement is just scrambling!

The first night on elephant island a girl, who looks like she's maybe 16 but I think is older, came to the door of the house where I was staying. Her name is Dara, with European a's, and she's very small, probably 5' and 90 pounds. I had been chatting with one of the American volunteers who was there to build one of the houses, and she showed up and told me in Moken that she wanted to talk to me and not to talk to him. She used enough body language to make it clear what she meant and he, looking concerned but understanding, left. She then asked to come up to the house, and I I invited her in, (other people were home), unsure of what she wanted and a little wary. She proceeded to ask me if I wanted to sleep with her that night. Sanuk! she said, using the word borrowed from Thai for 'fun!'.

She was drunk. I said no, I couldn't. She was persistent. She told me that her husband had been one of the 19 Moken imprisoned for diving for sea slugs in the nicobar islands (have I mentioned this situation before?), and she was lonely, and she had been drinking a lot because if she didn't drink she would just cry. After I persistently refused, she started asking for money. I asked why she wanted the money (she was asking for just 10 baht, which is what a drink costs), and after it was clear I wouldn't pay for her drinks she said she didn't have any milk to give her children. I went with her to the store and bought two cans of sweetened condensed milk that evidently Moken mothers feed their children. Despite the ethical issues involved in mothers feeding their children sweetened condensed milk (mixed with water, I think), given the circumstances it seemed to be the best available option. And I certainly wasn't going to change a cultural practice by one tight-fisted refusal.

As I talked to people later in the week about the incident, I found out that she had evidently made a similar offer to the other Americans staying on the island as well. I also found out that her husband beats her, severely. Her children are around one and three.

Wife and child abuse are relatively common, according to both Acarn N. and the Moken who I talked to about it, and almost always related to alcohol. While not everyone does it, and I even feel that lots of Moken don't condone it, there's a sense in which they feel that the women who are beat somehow deserve it, or bring it upon themselves. With the few Moken who I had a chance to talk with extensively about this this week, I made it clear that I thought there were no excuses to beat your wife, or children, and that if you did that in my country you can be imprisoned. I said that I didn't think that there was ever an excuse for violence, especially against someone weaker than you.

There were other cultural insights as well. For example, one Moken mother told me that it was important to drink alcohol and smoke while you were pregnant because babies in your womb like it, they crave all the "fun things" just like adults do. (I guess there are bigger issues even than children smoking in the Moken community.) I asked a couple of people about this, and they emphatically replied that they thought this was the case. "The baby likes it", they said. I told them that I didn't think it was good to drink when you were pregnant, but they made funny faces. It seemed to be a bona fide case of cultural common sense being at clear odds with western medical received wisdom--to the detriment of infants, in this case. Needless to say, it's difficult to estimate the impact this might have had on these people group over generations, assuming it's not specific to this one community. Fetal alchohol syndrome is no joke, from what I understand, and this is a community which has home births and a relatively severe infant mortality rate, from what I gather, especially neonatal mortality. Births are performed at home, by other Moken women.

Cholera is also a big issue here, though. I hear there are deaths every year from children with diarrhea (my consultant said her daughter had diarrhea almost constantly). I tried to stress strongly that handwashing was key, etc., but I think especially older members of the community are rather fixed in their ways. But this is not a problem specific to the Moken, I don't think.
Just getting all of this information, and hearing lots of other stories about the community entailed spending a lot of time with different Moken, and I feel very gratified in knowing many more of their names and language than I did before. There's always this undulation from one moment to the next, at first feeling you are in pure relation with someone, and then feeling embarrassingly, frustratingly foreign and Other.

One of the highlights of this last week occured twice in the form of two excursions across Koh Hlao. The first was on foot, and I just walked around, looking for the beach, and walked about a mile and a half before finding it. There were some very barky dogs, and it was actually a Buddhist Monastery on the beach, so I felt kind of bad but it didn't look like anyone was there. Then as I was leaving, and the dogs were barking, a saffron-shrouded monk emerged from a small hut and told the dogs to be quiet...whoops! The next day, after a relatively short day of work, See (a woman, my main consultant thus far) and Mayay (man, a friend from last time who was a consultant for a day) and I did a lot of the same trip, only on different robes, and to the "New Pier", where I hadn't been the day before. We took a motorcycle with a side cart down little windy paved jungle roads, occasionally at speeds that I wasn't quite comfortable with...but in reality the danger was minimal, as fast wasn't actually that fast, and the worst case scenario was driving of the road and crashing into a tree. The side cart made falling over impossible (clearly trying very hard to make this sound safe for those who might be concerned). Anyways, it was fun, but then next day, when working with See, she told me that she thought I probably should have given Mayay something for taken me (so maybe her too), so I gave them both B100 ($3), which was something, but not a lot, which was fine, it just seemed kind of wierd to pay them for hanging out and having a good time, especially as I had already bought gas for the motorcycle on the trip. Anyways, oh well. I think Mayay's going to take me on a trip to Koh Phayam next weekend, though, and I'm planning to pay him for that, as I would any other person, and hopefully help him get a net as a result of the payment. It's a nice solution to the fact that I want to help one particular person who's been especially friendly to me and has a specific need without seeming too unfair. I'm sure it will still instill some jealousy, but there's no way around that, save giving nothing to no-one. Is this Charity or Solidarity? Not clear.

The relation almost always comes through talking about ourselves and our own lives, helping the other person understand who we are and how we feel about where we are. For me a large part of that is trying to explain to the Moken why I'm here, why I think they're language is so interesting and important, and why I'm not here just to help them. I explain to them that I'm a student, that I only study language, and that I chose to study their language not knowing anything about them as a community before I came. I told them that I was very suprised at the difficulty of the situation upon arriving, but tried to express that while I'm very concerned on one hand, in many ways I'm as incapable as them as doing anything about their situation.

But this is only partially true, and they know it as well as I do. At some point in every conversation, whether one about health, culture, history, or faith, there are subtle or not so subtle hints dropped or requests made for money. I do not know if this begging has arisen from the enormous amount of charity which they received after the tsunami. But charity, as Griff quotes someone as saying, is not solidarity, and I crave the latter for some reason, though I am beginning to feel that it is unattainable. The Moken know as well as I do, probably better, and more fully in their being, that the world is unjust, and that the great wealth of our current world lays in the hands of just a few people, and while it may trickle down, it does so only with the sweat of the poorest workers. I'm very wealthy in their eyes, and me not giving them money on a regular basis I think makes them feel that I'm very stingy, no matter how much I try to emphasize that my resourses are limited, and I don't want to just hand them out money.

(Quick aside: I have noticed, as another cultural observation, that money is occasionally just given to someone after a meeting, especially family members. It's not clear, though, if this is a loan, the repayment of a debt, or just kind of spreading money around as a regular thing to do. If it's the latter, it kind of explains a lot, and makes me feel like maybe I should actually just start handing money to people after chatting with them. But that seems kind of wierd?)

The Moken in Ranong have come from a culture of total independence, and traditionally were able to build with their own hands from nature all that they needed to live in deep community with the life around them. With each television, they lose sight of that world a little more, and while I certainly can't fault them for wanting to be a piece of the pie, it seems that within this one community (or two), something has been lost (which few of us have ever had, save maybe Grandpa and Grandma), which is total dependence on your environment for sustenance, and the knowledge and ability to use it without destroying it.

But they're here now, and I think that with the loss of independence come things like education and healthcare, and hopefully freedom and peace. But because of their cultural history, they don't have any understanding of things like saving money or even investing money in their homes or boats, which were both traditionally literally disposable. I think they have been led down the wrong path in the last few years, expecting the world to continually supply them with what they need, on a regular basis. Just as they could traditionally rely on their environment to supply them with their daily bread, I fear that they have now begun to rely on charity. And why not, when there's so much wealth out there that they don't have?

I think at the end of this trip I'm just going to give the Moken on Elephant Island bags of rice, as a small gift, as they have new houses and generally higher "quality of life." I think I'll try to stay a few extra days and buy roofing supplies for the Moken on Koh Hlao, as many of their houses are kind of lacking proper roofing, and they leak all the time. I think I'm going to stay a few days and try and help them put the roofs on, though I don't really know anything about that, and maybe even try and get someone to come help who knows more about building than I do. There are these four Thai guys doing construction on the church on Elephant Island I'm thinking of asking. I don't know when this will be possible, but I hope it's doable. The net idea is out, but if you want to help with building supplies, your welcome to, though I don't think the cost will be great (meaning I probably would be able to take care of it on my own). Anyways, hope everyone is doing well.

I'm back in Ranong for Sunday night, after having missed the Thai church service this morning due to torrential rains in the morning which prevented an early departure. Ranong is the rainyest province in Thailand (which is saying something), and I haven't seen straightup sunlight since I've been here. The hat I bought has been useful for the rain, though. The rains are torrential, though, and with the winds at times you can't hear people talking, especially if you're under an aluminum roof. But you sleep really well. Unless the aluminum roof isn't nailed down very well, and keeps banging against other aluminum roof panels. Then it might wake you up if it gets real windy.



When I went to Koh Hlao on Thursday afternoon I met a English(F)-Canadian(M) couple who were coming to visit the Moken. She evidently recently was awarded the British equivalent of a Fulbright, and they were here to see if this might be a good place to end up doing her project. She was interested in adult education, but they were also here to study how the different organizations were working together (or weren't) and whether that process of working with the Moken could be streamlined. He speaks great Thai from living in Isan for six years doing e development work (Canadian equivalent of Peace Corps) and she spoke none. We talked all about the situation and it was good getting a fresh perspective on everything. They were interested/concerned about the move to Elephant Island, so we went together just yesterday (Saturday).

When I got there I heard there were some Westerners up working on the church they were building on the Island so I went up to talk to them. It turns out the one guy (Rick) in charge knew my parents from back in the day and the whole project is being funded by Campus Crusade. The Thai leader of Campus Crusade (Mike Chr.) is actually also an old family friend. I guess this all isn't that surprising considering the heavy church involvement, though. The couple had some meetings with the men and woman about their needs on the Island (which involved the Moken drawing a picture of the island on a big sheet of paper that she brought), and whether they would want something like adult education, and it wasn't clear how useful it might be.

Despite what Naw (the woman I was staying with) said, the people on Elephant Island are actually very happy and say that they're going to stay there indefinitely. Moreover, I was talking to some of the Moken on Koh Hlao and they all say that if there were enough houses (there are only 30) they would also like to move to Elephant Island. This was a surprise to me since Naw, the woman I was staying with, had insisted that they weren't happy and they'd all move back. I said wait and see, and after seeing them and their houses I'm pretty skeptical. It does seem to me like the Moken have more autonomy and free.dom out there, and I think they'll stay. It would be nice if they could be one community, though, as they're divided right how and I think it's been hard for some of the families.

After going, I've also decided I'm going to spend at least next week on Elephant Island. There's a Thai(M)-Moken(F) couple who I know from last trip and who told me I was welcome to stay with them. Incidentally, this is the same woman who had a black eye last time and told me that it was because her husband beat her. Also the same couple who I told offhandedly during a dinnertime discussion that it wasn't right for a man to beat his wife (for those who I've told this story to). So it will be interesting to see their interractions. The man (Thep) generally seems a lot more easy going than he used to, so maybe he's had a change of heart. I am going to miss Naw's cooking, though.

One interesting little story is about the "chief" of the Moken on Koh Hlao (Sidit--he's on the hammock in the picture of four people talking), who has been really drunk the last few days, evidently because of the money I gave him for working as a consultant the first few days. I feel bad but he had complained to me how hard times were for him so I thought I'd use him for a few days at the beginning, even though he's basically a terrible consultant. I've come to the conclusion that he's a total alcoholic, which is just sad. The other Moken actually asked me (in Moken) not to give him any more money, which is basically the only thing they've ever asked me to do.

Speaking of Moken (the language), I'm getting semi-proficient. For the first time I've been stopping by different houses and actually having fledgling conversations with the Moken in Moken as opposed to just an exchange here or there. My grammar is really good, I really just need to start working on vocabulary on a daily basis. Doing this is really the difference between language learning and straightup fieldwork, as it's the kind of rote memorization that's you can't learn any language without doing. Anyways, I'm hopeful that I'll be able to hold a conversation by the time I leave.

The research is good, but I need to get to it. I hope everything's going well. Sorry about the really long post...

Pictures

Week 2, Wednesday: Enter Mokenland

I thought I wouldn't be back until Friday or Saturday to post a blog but here I am because I hadn't heard from anyone and thought you all might be worried, so I hopped a boat back to Ranong and spent the night in a hotel just to tell you all that everything's totally hunky dory for me but not for the Moken but then not much has changed in that way, has it?

I've finished three days of fieldwork and it's going ok. Because I'm focused really on just two topics this trip, the aforementioned lack of preparation hasn't been as stressful as I thought it would. I can really stretch out the sessions and go over the same data to be sure, which I need to do anyways. This probably doesn't mean much to you so I'll just saying it's going ok and I'm hopeful for the prospects.

The situation with the Moken hasn't changed, really. The pastor in Ranong, who's a bit of a lone ranger when it comes to aid (that is, he doesn't really communicate at all with other organizations trying to assist the Moken), raised some money and had some Campus Crusaders (including former childhood friend of Erica and hubster, I believe) go build a whole villiage on the next island out (30 houses and a church), which is called Koh Chang translated meaning Elephant Island though I don't think there are any there. This is because the island is reasonably far from shore, like an hour or 45 minutes or something, and I don't think elephants can swim that far. It also costs the Moken a lot more money to go from there to the town and back, and with the rising world-market prices of fossil fuels it's not totally clear that the situation out on Elephant Island is necessarily an improvement. There was some persuasion involved in moving the Moken to Elephant, island, as 30 families did, inin the form of a big bag of rice, so they're ok for a while I guess, but the place is much harder to find foods such as clams and stuff which are nice because you can just pick them up on the beach and all. This is because their old place was near a whole series of tidal estuaries and the ocean was much shallower and closer to shore, making it an ideal ecosystem for clam-type invertebrates. They're making money, I think, finishing building a church for the pastor out there, but it's not clear what will happen when they're done. This is a much longer story than I have time to tell right now, though.

What is worth saying, and I'll probably mention it again, is that a lot of the Moken living on Ko' Hlao have lost or have never had crab nets. Crab nets are an ideal way to feed yourself and make some extra money on a daily basis, and it's amazing to me that despite all the aid and attention that the Moken have gotten here, a lot of them are still netless. It seems that this is a relatively obvious way to help people make a decent living on their own, and it's a sustainable investment at that. There's between 5-10 families without nets. I've decided I'd like to do something about it myself, and it'd be great if you could help, actually. A net isn't cheap, about $200, but it's basically a way of giving a family food and also a very direct way of redistributing those resources which we Americans have in such abundance. I'm hoping to buy two or three myself, and if anyone would like to chip in and buy part of or all of another net, please send me an email and let me know how much you'd like to donate. This is purely a favor and an act of goodwill, and please feel absolutely no obligation to help out. We can figure out the money later, but I can just buy the nets myself for now. I'm going to talk to the Moken about this and see what they think, but I wanted to put the idea out there so you all could start thinking about it. All the money will go straight to the nets, no service charge or nothing.

Right now, I'm at this office of an organization of some Thai volunteers who I met who are having a big fiesta out on the Moken island (the old one, Koh Hlao). Anyways, there's a little girl here who walked up to me and stuck out her hand and I shook it and she walked away. She came back in and looked at my phone. She told me that my phone was like her mom's. She looked at my cheap $8 watch and asked me how much it cost. I told her B200. She told me it was expensive. She calls me Farang (which is what Thais call Westerners) and told me that she met someone named Farang once before.

Ok. I've got to go. I'll write more on the weekend. I put some pictures on the picasa site that you can get to by clicking the old pictures, I think.

Week 1, Sunday: Ranong, at night

I'm typing this in what is probably the most rediculous internet cafe known to man. The owner, who knows me and remembers me from last year (a late 20's woman with two kids already) was happy to see me and usually charges me like 5B (30 cents) to use the computer, regardless of how long I use it for. The rest of the internet cafe is full of boys between the age of 5 and 20 playing rediculously loud computer games on all of the computers. They always come look at my screen hopefully, then see I'm just typing something, and walk away looking somewhat disgusted. The computers are packed into a small noisy room. The kid right to my left is probably nine and playing a dance dance reviolution computer game where everyone tries to dance in a group and then they seem to have some sort of dance one on one's where you try to pull special dance moves and everything...yeah...

The bus ride down from Bangkok was uneventful, for the most part. It left at 8:20PM and got in at 5:30AM and I walked to the church, which took about 20 minutes, and then had to wait at a restaurant that was just opening outside for an hour before they opened the gate. I slept on the bus but lost my cell phone...who knows how. Possibly my fault, possibly not. I wasn't careful enough, either way. I've already got a new phone with at new number, though, if you're interested in calling me via Skype (Sarah says it costs you about 12 cents a mintue): 08-1397-5133. I had trouble with my last phone making international calls and I'm wondering now if it was because I was trying to call cell phones. So if you want to call, you're more than welcome, and I'll answer at almost any time, and I'll evidently still have good reception at all the islands I'll be going to over the next month. (crazy, huh?) I'm 11 hours ahead of the east coast time.

It's good to be back in Ranong, but it's always such a drastic change from Bangkok. I'm going from a megacity that's totally westernized to the smallest provicial capital in Thailand, and there's 76 of them. It's a totally different feel, needless to say. I think I'm starting out on a much better leg than last time, though. Last year I was relatively shell shocked at this point, and thought I needed to start the work immediately (like the morning I arrived) and wasn't fully prepared for all the complexities of the situation here with the church and everything, which I might write about more but I know I've talked with a lot of you about.

The good news is that everyone who knew me is glad to see me again. I start my fieldwork tomorrow. I'm actually feeling a little overwhelmed and underprepared right now, that said, so I won't write for too much longer. Despite my days of preparation for the last few months, I've still managed to put off the last crucial steps of preparation in planning out each day and getting specific sentences ready for each of them, which means I have the double duty of analysis and preparation on many upcoming days, which probalby means I'll get far less done, sadly. Hopefully some will be enough, though.

I love you all and hope things are going well. More pictures will come soon.