Fire and rain

 As I write the young work skills teacher, Boe Reh is lying on the floor near me in the ‘office’, sound asleep and snoring softly. Out of one window, I watch a man drawing water up from the well with a bucket, which he then transfers to large plastic containers. Beneath me, the students are having a computer class, sharing one laptop between three. Mobile phones are common but this is the first time most have used a computer so they are learning to open documents, send emails etc. A low rumble of conversation percolates upwards as they chat to each other with the occasional burst of laughter. A former student on a work placement is also hanging out in the office. He is learning English via an app on his phone. I catch the phrases ‘ How is your love life? ‘ and ‘Will you marry me? ‘ I regret not hearing more as I have to go and teach.  Is his programme called  ‘ English for the desperate single man‘? 

Drawing water from well

Last weekend, on the way back from Mae Hong Son on the motorbike, Boe Reh drove me through  the forest with flames licking the side of the road. The undergrowth was tinder dry and I became nervous about being caught in a huge conflagration. The past week, a blue haze coated the hills obstructing the full glare of the sun. What at first I put down to high humidity was the smoke from the fires set by farmers and by wild outbreaks. Thursday night brought a welcome change with tropical storm and torrential rain for over 24 hours. Once over, the air was much clearer and fresher, the motorbikes no longer stirring up huge dust clouds and all the vegetation sparkled, greener and cleaner. The sun shone again brightly from a blue sky.

Haze before the rain-burnt area

Clear skies after rain-burnt area

I comment to Tse Meh, my chief cook, that it is good the funeral is over before the rain came. She tells me that Karenni believe that rain after funeral is a sign that the spirit is being shown the way home.  A rather lovely idea.

In Northern Thailand, farmers traditionally burn fields of rice, maize and sugar cane to prepare for the next harvest or to clear the forest in what is known as ‘slash and burn’ agricultural practice. The resulting pollution is so bad that many places such as Chiang Mai, where I am heading next week can have air quality amongst the worst in the world. Because of this,  the Thai government recently instigated a strict no burn policy in eight of nine Northern provinces so I hope things may have improved there.

This morning I find my students huddled around large wok cooking diced pumpkin over an open fire. Large banana leaves are sometimes placed on top to act as a lid. By the river one of the students is burning vegetation to clear the bank. I notice smoke drifting from a field on fire. The sky is grey blue once more. I suspect the government ban may be widely ignored by people for whom fire is an essential part of life.

                                                        Clearing the riverside

Students cooking pumpkin-Tse Meh, my personal chef, is in red

The route between Chiang Mai and Mae Hong Son is so hilly and notoriously windy that, I have been joyfully informed by a foreigner who lived here before, transport in between is known as the ‘vomit comet.’ I have ahead of me a journey of 6 hours of people throwing up in a minibus to go to a place where the air quality is currently officially classed as ‘unhealthy’. Such plans could be developed under an app called ‘Travel for the slightly insane’. 

My time here is coming to a close. I hope to write one final post about my life here, if I survive the vomit comet. 

Now I will I gently fade out to the sounds of James Taylor  (hopefully familiar to those d’un certain age)

I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain

I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end

I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend

But I always thought I’d see you again.....