Burning Questions

Sometimes, I think I've finally done it. I've finally established myself as the individual I want to be for the rest of my life. But I keep being given experiences that continue to mold and shape me into the person I need to become. In fact, it's rather exhausting. I get through something really hard and feel completely content to continue life at my own pace, and then I realize that I still need to deal with some things from my past or begin a new challenging process. And it will never end. But one of the great enigmas of life is that something can be so exhausting and so exhilarating at the same time. It's only been a week, and I've already changed so much. My eyes have been opened to so many new things, and my interactions with the people here teach me something with every encounter. I can't wait to get a start on my field work to learn about the Hmoob people and just a little bit more about the world.

I'm astounded at how little we really know about the world, at how limited research methods are, at how once we answer one question it opens the door to a million more. I'm humbled at the prospect of trying to learn from these people whose everyday lives are being interrupted by a few Westerners attempting to answer some questions about humanity in the world of academics. I keep laughing because my dad's voice runs through my mind pretty often about the academics of social sciences: "To what end? I understand the questions, but why study them? Wouldn't it be all researched out by now?" And this question....I have asked myself many times. What do our limited research methods really allow us to claim or do anyway? We never get truly random samples or talk to enough people or conduct good enough interviews (and the list never ends) to make a definite claim about humanity. We only add hopefully well-supported arguments to theories about humanity. So what's the point?

I'm smart enough. I know that. I would get through any schooling I wanted to. I could be an engineer or a doctor or a nurse. I could be a lawyer if I wanted to. But I don't want to. Some people really do care about these professions, but I think too many people chase these options because they'll make more money doing them. And that money will make some people happy, to a certain extent. But I don't care about the money. I'm not going to waste my time and happiness pursuing a temporary security blanket doing something that I hate. I know that I have talents and passions when it comes to cultural and gender studies. And so I will figure out along the way what I'm going to do with my experiences. I laughed today with my professor because I still have no idea what to do. Yes, I think I want to go into social work, but I believe my somewhat-edited frustration voiced to him was: "I just have these burning questions in my soul about these women that I want to answer and explore. But I don't want to do research for the rest of my life or be a professor or get stuck in academics. I want to work in the practical field, but I have all these theories I want to explore on the side. I can't figure out how to merge the two or how to find out what I would love doing." But anyway, I got off track. I know I'll figure it out someday because life moves on, whether we're ready for it or not, and I have found that God has always led me to the exact circumstances where He needs me and where I need to be. 

Back to the money part. That sounds kind of self-righteous, I guess. "I don't care about the money. I just want to do some good." But really, I've come to realize that we have an extremely skewed perception of poverty in the United States. I grew up thinking that we were always hurting for money and that I shouldn't ever spend a penny if I could help it. I always had enough food, though. I always had enough clothes, a stellar education, a first-world roof over my head, adequate health care, and so much more. The majority of people here can't claim as much. We joke about being poor college students when our cab drivers assume that we're rich because we're Americans, but I don't think they're so off the mark. I'm in Thailand, for heaven's sake, doing research in the social sciences because I feel like it. That opportunity is open to, like, maybe 2% of the world. (Not sure how accurate that statistic is, but you get my general point.) I am and always will be just fine because of where I was born, who I was born to, and the opportunities that those factors present to me. So why not use whatever funding I do have to expand my horizons and learn more about humanity? Money doesn't last forever. The experience I've had so far in Thailand is priceless and worth more than any amount of money I could have spent on it. 

I've gotten this new dream since I've come here. Lately I've entertained the possibility of finishing my education and just peacing out. Finding a job in another country, getting my citizenship, and raising a family there. Kind of silly-sounding, but I've caught the travelling bug. I have loved every second of this country so far. This is my first time travelling outside of the states, and I can already tell it will be an addiction (which falls into the money argument I just made...because I'm predicting that in my future, I will be spending quite a bit on travel). I love the heat of the sun and the way the humidity makes my skin feel so glowing and healthy. I love the way the humidity makes my hair stand out in curls about 6 inches away from my face. I love feeling the sweat run down my back in delicate little streams. I love the smell of different meats cooking as I pass the street vendors. I love the bustle of Chinatown in Bangkok and how you have to clutch your purse close to your body when you get caught in a crowd. I love the devotion that I see in people bowing to Buddha because they have dedicated their whole lives to this religion. I love seeing the intricate details in the architecture that indicate the infinite amounts of time and dedication spent on one piece of artwork because it is just that important and sacred to you.

Inlaid mother-of-pearl was all over the Summer Palace and some of the temples we went to see.

I loved meeting my host family, but that first night I got really grumpy when our group of Farangs (sounds like Falongs - white people) reconvened. (I'm writing this several days after that last paragraph.) I was really intimidated earlier that day by the outgoingness and effort of some of our group to speak Hmoob with people and felt that I was so stupid and should have studied harder. I felt extremely insignificant and awkward and just wanted to go to bed and get out of the company of all my peers. I felt overwhelmed and a little lost. Communication with my mom started out really rough, and my dad speaks very little English (although I am grateful that he can speak at all). I didn't know how to interact with my brothers and sister, and what the heck was I doing here with people that I can't talk to unless I have a translator? They stare at me everywhere I go and laugh at the Farangs. And I know that sometimes, I'm just going to want a real shower and a western toilet. I've learned that for me, I get in these really bad moods, and I just have let it wear off. It's better if I don't complain about it or vent that often so that it just blows over once my perspective changes. Today, I feel amazing. I laughed with a group of school girls that I passed when I was getting lost because they saw a Farang coming and thought it was hilarious that she was trying to say "Nyob zoo" to them. I just grin at everyone I pass and try to learn as many random Hmoob words that I can. I've already improved with the language since I've arrived, and it's only been 2 days.

I just wish I could communicate more with these people. We often meet people and assume that their life begins when we meet them. That they have no past, that they are as we see them. But I see the cab driver and I think, "Where does he come from? What are his struggles? Why is he here? What has he gone through? Where is his family?"  But I've also learned that communication doesn't need to have a lot to do with speech. That is really important to me because after having arrived in the village, I can't communicate with my host mom (Niam Ntxawm) very well. She tries to teach me Hmoob words, and often we just laugh because we have no idea what the other is saying. I try to look up basic words in the dictionary, and my family helps me with pronunciation. If I can't communicate, I just pull up pictures to show her, or I try to give a gift or something. I smile and laugh a lot and always ask "Kuv pab koj ua tao?" (Can I help you?). I'm learning that there are such universal ways of non-verbal communication. One of our cab drivers in Bangkok spoke a little English, and we learned a bit about his family. So Jolysa pulled out her ukelele and started singing an impromptu song about the cab driver's life. He could recognize some of the words and knew the song was about him. He got a huge grin on his face and started to laugh along with the rest of us. I didn't admit this earlier, but I actually started tearing up because I was so incredibly happy in that one moment. That even though we couldn't understand each other, we made each other happy and enjoyed each other's human company. Small moments like this are the most memorable for me. I went to buy some pants at a market and indicated that the owner should choose which pants he wanted me to buy. He smiled and laughed and chose the ones that he liked for me. On our first morning in Chinatown, April and I went to get breakfast. I had previously been waving to everyone and quickly learned I looked like a dope. You're supposed to put your hands together and give a slight bow. So we went to get breakfast, and a street vendor tried to show us how much money we owed her. We laughed at our lack of understanding, and she humbly picked the coins from our hands and gave us our fried bread and soymilk. We left, but then I remembered to turn around and bow in thanks. It was somehow a beautiful moment of communication.

I've learned to cherish these moments because I had a really long conversation with some of the girls in my group the other day about how apprehensive we are about the future. Sometimes I become overwhelmed with the prospect of the struggles in my future. I see people who have been divorced, abused, mistreated, lonely, chronically ill, and so much more, and I just don't want to deal with any of those things. But life is worth living for the triumph of these struggles and those perfect moments like the one I described above. Because as I sat on my balcony overlooking the city of Bangkok with my scriptures open in my lap and my naturally frizzy hair blowing in the wind, life was perfect in that moment. Life has been awful at other moments, and some things will continue to hurt me. But life is perfect in that one happy, blissful moment. Nothing else matters. That's part of the reason I don't care about money. I want to find a career to serve people and one that will allow me to chase moments like this in a foreign country with the people I love. Because these are the moments worth living for. This is what life is about for me.

The perfect view from my hotel room.

This is why I care so much about studying people and culture. Like I said, I could do anything I want in terms of career. I believe that. But without the theory I've learned about people in the world, I would not care about life. I care about studying and understanding God's children to improve our interactions with each other. My areas of interest just tend to lie particularly in studying gender issues in this regard. The study of culture teaches you how to appreciate people and how to interact and communicate with them. It teaches you that you are small in this world but that you can do so much good if you choose to do so.

So with that in mind, I've been narrowing down my thesis and starting to pick women out for my case studies. We had the opportunity to speak with Dr. P. from Chang Mai about our projects, and we decided to narrow down my topic quite a bit. Instead of focusing on general women's attitudes toward the patrilineal structure, I will focus on women who have been spiritually cut off from their families and how that affects their status as a woman. For example, if a woman is divorced, she is spiritually cut off from her clan. The family council can discuss and help her situation, but she cannot be part of their rituals or be spiritually connected to anyone. The man has no punishment for divorce. A similar situation exists with women who have become impregnated out of wedlock, although this time the child is also spiritually disconnected from the clan. There is also a polygynous family that I know of where the first wife lives autonomously with her son, and the husband only comes to perform rituals for them. The professor's theory was that she chose not to divorce him because she would be spiritually cut off from her clan and would have to wait until her son had become a leader so she could reap the spiritual benefits from his leadership and new clan position. The second wife of this family is a female shaman, which means she has risen above her status as a woman and is higher than both common women and men. I am so excited to learn and ask about all of these dynamics.

In the meantime, I'm signing off to learn some more Hmoob. Peace and blessings :)