Mar 6 Nafra to Thrizino (Day 1) - Foreigner!
Meet Deru at his aunt’s place for breakfast. She makes an excellent and filling breakfast. They bring me something which I think is a cup of tea. When I ask what it is, Deru tells me rakshi! If there is one thing I do not want to see today, it is rakshi! I sample it even though I don’t want to. Deru says the really hard working people like a hard drink in the morning and again in the evening. I ask him why he is not having any. He grins and says that I must at least sample it, which I do. I go into the house first and am by myself for a minute or so. During this time, I take advantage of the bamboo flooring and pour most of my rakshi onto the floor, where it immediately dribbles through the cracks and onto the ground below. I save face because the rakshi appears to be consumed and I don’t have to get sloshed in the process. It is a technique I employ several times over the next few days.
It is now standard for me to sit in the front seat (passenger side, of course) of our jeep while driving. I appreciate Bhupen being responsive to my requests. He also does most of the driving now, after I told him that I prefer his driving to Radju’s constant honking and harassment of pedestrians.
Radju offers me a digestive tablet soon after we leave Nafra. It has an odd taste and I think it is something like a sweet tart or lifesaver until Bhupen explains to me. The list of ingredients is quite long. I have no idea whether it really does anything.
I see Radju pushing some tobacco under his lip and he asks whether I want to try this. I go for it, even though I’m not feeling all that great. He gives me a pinch and almost immediately I feel a tingling sensation on the inside of my lip. In less than two minutes, I feel the tobacco in my system. It’s hard to describe the effect, other than to say it is affecting my ability to think clearly and it affects my motor skills. I want to get a picture requiring my long lens, and I have to think hard about what I am doing, and moving the end cap from one lens to the other was difficult for me. After getting out of the car, I find my sense of balance to be impaired as well. It is an interesting experience, but it did not do anything fun for me, like drinking or smoking marijuana would. However, I am amazed at how quickly the active ingredients enter your system from an oral application.
Radju likes to listen to his Indian tapes and there is a refrain in one of them that sounds to me like, “Sergeant, Sergeant, Sergeant.” Bhupen laughs and tells me that it means Darling, Darling, Darling. I proceed to yell it out to some women in the next village through which we pass and have both Bhupen and Radju in stitches.
Bhupen translates Radju saying that he will miss me when the trip is over. I am more fun than their normal clients, who are much more serious. I will miss them as well, especially Bhupen, who is sensitive to my desires and actively tries to make the trip more interesting and pleasant for me.
The terrain through which we drive is incredibly rugged with very steep drop offs and thick jungle. It is amazing that this place ever got explored.
We drive to Thrizino, which is a village of 100 families. It has six churches, three Hindu temples and I’m told that it services about 8000 people, including the nearby villages.
The hotel is a rustic place with four rooms, mine is a double and I have no room-mate this evening. I rest for about thirty minutes and then set off with camera and tripod up the hill just north of town. There is a Christian reform church and a Durga temple on the hillside. One of the local important people, Miali Sidisow, feels he needs to accompany me as does Mr. Das, the inn keeper. Miali leaves me as we arrive at the churches, halfway up the hill, the inn keeper is determined to accompany me, despite my protestations that he need not. It is good that he does. We walk for over an hour and he answers many questions and shows me some view points which I would not have otherwise found. He and his wife are a delightful couple. He tells me that the last 6 years has been easy because they now have a road and prior to that, he had to walk 6km one way to get vegetables for cooking. It was an almost daily trek.
After returning to the hotel, I make my way to the south end of the town (all of 2 minutes walk from the hotel). About ten children between ages of six and eleven gather round me and start practicing their English. “Hey mister, where are you from? You are beautiful? What is your name?” Then there are the comments which I cannot quite make out but which cause the gaggle to burst out laughing to themselves. I can guess, “Does your mother wear army boots?” is the sort of thing they are saying amongst themselves. It is a novelty for them to see the first foreigner in their midst and it is likewise a novelty for me to be regarded as such a curiosity. Not since sitting in the Kunming train station in 1986 have I felt so much interest in me. I now have a better appreciation of how celebrities must tire of the constant attention - well, perhaps some of them enjoy it - although I have to believe that even the most hungry-for-attention wish for quiet periods from time to time. At least the kids are content to look at me without wanting to touch me.
After a few minutes in my room, Radju bursts in, “Sir, sir, come see the kids walk on bamboo!“ I suppose Radju has never seen stilts before. I was going to try their stilts but they are made from light weight bamboo and I would break them. When I retire to my room after watching them for a while, they knock on my door and then run away, giggling. Fortunately, they only do this once.
At 7PM, Mr. Das makes a wonderful dinner of fish in a tomato sauce (tomatoes, onions (both cut on a knife held in fixed place by your foot while you move the vegetables back and forth through the blade in order to slice them)). This is all cooked over a wood fire on a two burner mud stove. The stove must undergo “maintenance” about twice per month and Mr. Das agrees to show me the stove being maintained tomorrow morning so I can see what this involves.
I am sitting in his kitchen with Bhupen and Radju, watching Das cook the meal when I notice a strong spice smell. It comes from Das grinding “gino” (or at least it sounds like that to me) by sliding a rock back and forth over another larger rock. The food is excellent! Mr. Das says that he is the best cook in village. We also have a spinach-like vegetable and dhal to go with our rice. There is another dish consisting of small hard crunchy balls. Mr. Das also prepares a salad and puts spices on the salad to give it real zing.
After dinner, he comes and sets up my mosquito net. As I am working on my journal, I am bitten by some very small bugs that eventually chase me into my mosquito net refuge.
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Mar 7 Thrizino (day 2)
Up at 5:20AM and wander the village. Met Lupa, a school teacher at the government school who speaks very good English. On the way back to the hotel, a person calls out, “Good Morning”, and going to investigate, I am invited to tea at the district education inspectors’ place. He and his wife are nice people, moving to different locations as the education department requires. I expect that he is disappointed to be assigned to such a backwater place but they seem to be taking it in stride. I ask him what he does and he occasionally visits some of the twenty schools in his district, especially if there are problems, but he is mostly able to stay at home.
Get back to hotel (IP in the local vernacular, the I means “welcome” but I have not yet discovered the meaning of the P), about 7AM to find breakfast “on the go”. Das is making chapattis over the wood fire, along with potato dhal and mango pickle. The chapattis are wonderful, so light and tasty. It is magic to watch Das prepare them. He has made the dough before I arrive, breaks off a small ball, rolls it flat with a rolling pin, then lightly greases his small griddle, leaves the chapatti on the griddle for about 30 seconds, flips for 30 seconds, then places the chapatti on a wire holder that he sticks over the fire’s coals. It proceeds to puff up and he quickly turns it over so that it gets toasted on both sides. Mr. Das can make them faster than I can eat them. After five, I decline the next, knowing I will turn into a bloated whale if I keep eating.
Laundry time. Bhupen gives me a 2Rs packet of soap which is sufficient for one bucket of laundry. I wash all my dirty shirts, my extra pair of pants and any dirty socks. It is a bright sunny day and things will dry within one day. This will save me hassle in Guwahati.
I go to Miali’s as he will be my local guide. He explains that the local religion is based on beliefs in sun, moon, earth and basically worships nature. Wow! Something that finally makes sense. I tell him that he is ahead of his time, that much of the world is starting to realize just how important nature is and how badly we are screwing things up. He has created a graphic depicting the important forces in their religion and he is building a small temple at the top of the hill. He wants to be sure that the local beliefs are not squeezed out by the other competing religions. Based on the huge Catholic school currently under construction, I think Miali faces an uphill battle, but I wish him the best of luck.
I ask Miali whether there are any caves in the area, or areas of limestone. He perks up and says that yes, there is a big area of limestone 6km from here with at least one large cave. I get excited and we mobilize the team, getting Bhupen and Radju to drive us down the road to the village 6km away. Miali finds a local friend who will guide us to the cave. The friend is a skinny wiry man, looks to be 45. He sets a stiff pace and I am soon sweating like crazy as we follow paths through the jungle. Skinny whacks the occasional obstacle with his machete and after 25 minutes we reach a stream. Miali tells me to leave my shoes on the shore, that we are close to the cave, and we need to walk up the stream. Against my better judgment, I comply. I have visions of nasty parasites entering my skin from the fresh water and lacerating my feet on sharp rocks. We follow the stream for 100 yards and then continue back on the shore for some time. This has me really concerned as there are lots of nasty things to damage my sensitive feet.
We definitely reach an area of limestone, which Miali tells me he discovered as small boy. However, the cave is nothing more than a six foot depression in the side of the rock. I am trying to gauge the size of the limestone area, but it does not look substantial. I ask how high it extends and Miali dispatches Skinny on exploratory missions both further upstream and then up the embankment. Neither pan out. It appears this is a very localized deposit. My visions of discovering a huge cave are dashed, but we have a good jungle romp and I get some much needed exercise. On the way back down the hill, Miali tells me about a much larger limestone deposit a further six kilometers away. Maybe next visit.
We exit the jungle next to a small village, the one where Skinny lives, and go to a room in one of the dwellings. I’m thinking Miali will have them bring us some chai. Instead, they turn up with three large cups and a jug of rice wine. I have visions of getting plastered again but it is quite pleasant, sitting in this bamboo walled room covered with old calendars, children’s artwork, and religious pictures. A new person joins us, whom I don’t know, and he desperately wants to communicate something to me. He tries repeatedly to talk to me, but I can’t understand a word he is saying. He reminds me of a religious zealot determined to save me, knowing that I will surely burn in hell if he is not successful with his communication.
Miali comes to collect me around 7PM and we go to one of his friends, someone who is very concerned about the imminent (tomorrow) celebration for Woman’s Day. He and Miali ply me with rice wine while inquiring about my schedule tomorrow. I know that Radju wants to leave at 6AM. Bhupen has told me we leave at 7AM. I tell Miali that I would love to stay and participate in the celebrations tomorrow, and would even stay for another day but my permit for Arunachal has expired and I will get into trouble unless they can have my permit extended. They tell me that the only phone in town is dead and hence they cannot get a special dispensation from the appropriate minister. Miali arranges with Bhupen for me to stay long enough to be at their opening ceremony tomorrow.
In a side conversation, it comes out that Miali’s friend has two wives. I ask Bhupen about this later and he tells me that it is not technically allowed, but that powerful people in local villages can pretty much do what they want.
Later, at Miali’s, he is cooking rice inside bamboo tubes lined with banana leaves. This is the traditional way rice was prepared, with the bamboo tubes (about two feet long) being placed directly in the central fire in their family room. The tubes are turned every five minutes. The bamboo needs to be hacked and broken apart in order to extract the rice, which, when it does come out, is in perfect cylinders. One inch slices are cut off and when eating this, I find the rice to be incredibly dense. It must have expanded when absorbing the water and all the grains mashed together.
We also have a salad which Bhupen finds difficult to eat, it is so spicy. There is more rice wine and I make liberal use of the bamboo flooring, discretely of course. Only Bhupen notices how I slide my glass behind me and gently tip it over.
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Mar 8 Thrizino to Guwahati
- There is a Women’s procession through town with a banner at the head, the women chanting, “Womans Day”. Light is very good, most women dress up in traditional dress. Miali tells me that most of the traditional clothing is made here in the village. Lots of “big” jewelry is worn. Multiple necklaces made from turquoise and stones of several different colors (brown, white, yellow, green) are worn. They all seemed proud to be decked out in their finest. Even the poorest among them wears a special colorful sari. There is electricity in the air! This is the first Woman’s Day celebration in the village, and is probably the first time the women have had a chance to run around the town as an “Angry Mob”.
- Breakfast is rice and scrambled eggs. Very tasty. I complete writing my short speech with a beginning of “Hum Bahoot Couche” (I am happy to be here), courtesy of my coaches, Mr. and Mrs. Das, the proprietors of the I.P (hotel).
- Sit outside at Miali’s place, watching a volleyball and game drinking rice wine. First glass has a fair bit of rice in the glass, it gives it some body and tastes good. I’m thinking that this is not such a bad life. Miali tells me he has 5 children, 3 boys and two girls. I ask him whether he has more than one wife. He says no, but he his thinking of getting a second, although he says it is expensive and would cost him 15 methunes (a special sacred cow). His first wife cost him 20 methunes, 15 pigs and some amount of grain.
- Several women have food stalls set up outside the community center, which is decorated for the occasion. Miali buys me some rangbang (pronounced, “rungbung”), which is deep fried and a bit mealy. Quite edible, and Miali tells me that when the hunters go into the jungle on a long hunt, they can eat rangbang for several days.
- Five minutes before the event officially kicks off, Miali herds me up the hill to where a bunch of men are hanging around, including the “Gaon Bura“, a delegated elder who has final decision making authority in the village. He is indicated by a red jacket and something that looks like a Mounties’ hat. I was surprised to find that Miali was not the Gaon Bura for Thrizino, because he seems like the key person in the community, with the rest of the villagers often asking his help or advice.
- When the appropriate signal makes its way up the hill, a small procession of important people files down the hill. Everyone is male. We are greeted by several of the head women as we enter the community center compound and they pin special badges onto our chests. I am the first person called to enter as an “important guest” and make my way to the row of stuffed chairs that has been placed in the front row. Note that chairs are only on the left side of the community center. Men sit on the left side looking at the stage while women and children sit on the floor of the right side. The irony of an all male important guest list combined with the seating arrangements struck me. The women seem oblivious to these slights as this is the way things have always been done (and they also have much bigger fish to fry).
- The event is officially opened by myself and Fesom, another distinguished guest, from the big city of Bhalukpong. We are called to the front and we each light one of the tall ceremonial candles on the sides of the stage. Then there are some short speeches by the head women organizing the event, then three groups of traditional dancers give short routines.
- There are many small children present, (perhaps most of the village’s kids), and they are quite well behaved. I am taking candid photos of them and one child is sitting close by and he repeatedly jumps into the frame of pictures I am taking. Bright, precocious child, just not what I need at this time.
- I give (I think) an inspiring 5 minute speech in which I tell the audience of 300 people that the best way to improve the lot of women is through education. It is really fun be part of this event. It does not really matter what I say, the fact that Woman’s Day is important enough for a foreign visitor to attend greatly increases the stature of the event. In a way, I am a life-size, “Show and Tell”, that is used to attract attention.
- I never understood why Radju was so insistent that we leave Thrizino as early as possible on Saturday. Now I know. We leave immediately after the honorary guest delivers his speech (see above), about 11AM. We get to Bhalukpong at 2:30PM and I figure we’ll be in Guhawati by 7PM…. WRONG! The roads north of Tezpur are free of traffic and sufficiently good that we average 80km per hour. After Tezpur, the road has houses beside it almost the whole way to Guwahati. The road is a magnet for civilization, shops, farms, houses, schools, army bases. In addition to vehicle traffic one normally associates with roads, bicycles abound, donkey carts are not uncommon, foot traffic is thick, cows frequently wander on and off the road. Mercifully, we encounter few breakdowns with their ensuing traffic snarls. The quality of the road deteriorates as we move south. They are building a big new road and don’t want to invest in maintaining the old one. Our average speed dips down to 30 - 35kph.
- As we get within 25km of Guhawati the roadside becomes surreal. It is a repeat of the drive with Dennis from Shillong to Lydrymbai, with lots of heavily laden trucks, steep grades, frequent breakdowns and traffic snarls. The side of the road looks lunar, especially at night. It looks like a giant machine has gouged out the innards of the earth, leaving enormous canted blocks of rock by the roadside. The air is so laden with dust and soot that everyone’s headlights are visible as great beams of light. It reminds me of H.G. Wells’, “War of the Worlds”, when all the tripods had their death rays lancing through the sky and there was wreckage everywhere. This desecrated landscape is punctuated frequently by strips of habitation which are in turn dominated by wine shops. Guwahati is a working town and this is definitely the rough district. Then I learn that Radju lives in Tezpur and must retrace his steps after dropping me off, and drive another four hours back through this mess. Sorry Radju.
- 10PM, I check into the Eden Hotel, located in the Paltan Bazaar in Guhawati. I fill in the standard wide ledger book which all Indian hotels have. It asks for your name, age, father’s name, arrival date in India, country of citizenship, passport number, passport issue date, passport issue location, passport expiry date, Indian visa number, issue date, issue location, expiry date, whence you came, next destination, home address and signature. I had seen this many times before and was prepared for it. I was not prepared to fill out this form again, this time on loose sheets, with a carbon copy below it. India, have you heard of Tom Friedman’s book, “The World is Flat“? I also was not prepared for the request for 3 copies of my passport and Indian visa page. I was annoyed at this and asked why this was needed. The best answer I got was the standard Indian head bobble.
Bhupen tells me how much has enjoyed traveling with me, and I tell him the same. He speaks very good English and is very keen to tailor the trip to make it as positive as possible. Both he and Radju have a good sense of humor. We give each other a warm embrace and then I'm on my own again.
Anyone interested in traveling to Arunachal Pradesh should contact Mr. Wange at:
wange10@yahoo.co.in
Everywhere I go, people reference Wange. He knows all the key folks and can get a trip organized in the shortest possible time. It was he who arranged for me to see Thrizino, a village not previously accessible to foreign tourists.
- My room at the Eden is basic, as promised by Wange, and costs only 275Rs ($7) per day. It has a private bath, hot water, TV, ceiling fan.
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Mar 9 Guwahati
- Muezzin wakes me at 4:30AM, I doze but really don’t get back to sleep. Up 6AM, watched sun turn from a large red ball dulled by haze when low on the horizon, turn to a pinpoint piercing light source. Had a bucket shower.
- Worked on pictures for most of day and then spent a few hours uploading pictures. Great café, high speed connection (at least 20 pictures an hour, far, far higher than any of the other cafes in which I have worked), and a very competent staff.
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Mar 10 Guwahati
- The muezzin has wakes me again at 4:30AM this morning.
- 6AM, working on updating my journal. Vow to cut back on food intake today. Perhaps a few bananas for breakfast before meeting with Wange’s associate at 9:30AM.
- I look at my finger nails and see that they are clean! Between cutting them yesterday and a couple of real showers, I’m getting cleaned up! Just need a shave and I’ll look like a new man!
- I spend almost the entire day in the “good” cyber café and make huge progress on my blog site.
- In the process of filling in all this information, I realize just how much I have seen in such a short time. One month ago today, Raj and Melissa got married!
