How the City Farang Came to Love the Forest

            How the City Farang Came to Love the Forest

 The city farang, farang being a white western person, had never been in the jungle before, and had no experience of the people who called the jungle their home. His was a world of concrete and steel, of cars and fumes, of selfishness and haste. Not only the scenery slowly made him feel gentle and humble, but the friendship of a tribal chief showed him how a human being should be. Pati Teyeh was the headman of Soblan village, Mae Lam Kham district, Chiang Mai province. His friendship was offered on the basis that the city farang had come to see him and his home, and this was all that mattered. Slowly, Pati cured the city farang of his black and angry heart. At first, when Pati sat beside him, and began to massage his thigh, the city farang wanted to punch him, as he felt uncomfortable with human contact. Soon though, he began to understand, that this is how a human should be, unafraid to give, unafraid to accept.

 The forest was not a place he was used to. Its mosquitoes, snakes, and leeches worried him. Its trees were giant in size and diverse in appearance. Some were tall, thin, pale barked trunks reaching into the clouds, while others were short, dark wiry tentacles with inch long thorns which could cut skin into ribbons. Its canopy was home to howling monkeys, birds and pythons, its floor to ants, deer, and leopards. The city farang was a wholly inadequate creature there. He watched, bemused at first, as Pati Teyeh placed a small piece of rice and a candle at the base of a tree. Then, he felt an alien feeling of humility overcome him, as Pati chanted with his eyes closed, candle burning, a prayer that the forest would protect them while they rested.

 When the farang came to Pati's village, all the children stood shyly looking at him, while the women giggled and hid their faces. He was invited to eat in every home: rice, some jungle weeds, chilli paste, and a drink of boiled herbs. They tasted strange to the farang, but by this time, he had given himself up to their community, and felt part of them. Even if he stuck out like a huge clumsy buffalo. The older children invited him to play takraw, a game of passing a rattan ball over a net. It was like volleyball, except using heads, shoulders, and feet instead of hands. He was so bad at this that the children felt sorry for him. They had a good laugh to themselves but told him with their eyes it was alright to play like a two-year-old.

 After a night in one of the village homes, Pati told the city farang that they were to go into the forest. They would stay there with no food. They to stay there that night until daybreak. A few from the village accompanied them deep into the forest. Climbing hills until they reached a point where the undergrowth thinned, and pine trees dominated. There, they could look around, and in every direction, they could see rolling green hills. A floral sea of infinity. Each person found a place where they could be alone and meditate, in order to understand the forest a little better. One or two of the villagers made a base camp, where the others were to head the following day, to break their fast, and to share their feelings. Another purpose it served, was as a sanctuary to return to, if one of those meditating freaked out in the night, scared by a ghost, or a snake.

 The city farang built a small fire and waited for night to come. In the meantime, he became fascinated with ants. How many varieties there were, and how they went about their business without relent. He studied the rustling of leaves on the tops of trees down in the valley below. His eyes sought monkeys and birds, his mind unaccustomed to simply being, indeed, until now, his whole existence had been about doing. The heat of the tropical day stifled him, and he removed his shirt. But this attracted flying insects, which landed on his skin and tasted it, like the flies which pester horses in a field on a sunny day. Their incessant tickling almost drove him mad, and eventually, he pulled his clothes over his body and hid from them.

 After a while he emerged from his ragged bundle. He began to explore his environment. He walked up and down the slopes of the hill on which he had his room with a view, the seemingly endless forest. The flora covered him with unimaginable shapes of plants for which he would probably never have a name. By now he was hungry, and his senses began to soar, as the juices in his stomach bubbled. He acquired what could be called an understanding of the madness of art. Witnessing the forest as a guest, without any control over its whims and inhabitants, the city farang let go of all his urban angst and felt gentled, humbled, and ready to look at the world through very different eyes.

 As dusk fell, he lit his fire. He sat and listened to the crackle of the flames and the songs of cicadas. A solitary mosquito bit his hand stealthily, and as he rubbed the itching blister, he was suddenly scared that he had caught malaria. This feeling passed with the fading itch of his wound, and, with nothing left to do, except scare himself with the shadows of trees - or were they? - he lay down to sleep. He slept the most dreamless and undisturbed sleep that he had ever had. It was still dark when he awoke, the fire had died, and a morning chill crept into him. He relit the fire, looked east and waited for daybreak.

 Slowly it came. A changing of the sky's hue, the blackness fading, replaced with a red line of the sun, and the white to yellow to blue of the sky, until it was possible to make out the surroundings and beyond. He saw a sea of green rolling waves that were the hills around. Steaming mist rose above the treetops in the pale dawn light, it was so beautiful that the city farang almost forgot to breathe. Then, the melancholy slow whooping of morning gibbons resounded across the valley. It was the first time in his life he had listened to the language of animals. The loneliness of his night alone vanished, and he felt among friends. The city farang had come to love the forest, and his life would never be the same again.

 When the morning sun had risen and the mist dissipated, the farang went back to the main camp. Pati was there, and his noble features smiled at the farang. The farang smiled back, and the two of them laughed and sat down to eat some rice, jungle weeds and chilli paste. Pati offered a brief chant to thank the forest for keeping his friends safe during the night. For his part, the city farang thanked Pati and the villagers from the bottom of his heart. When he returned to his world of steel and fumes, he determined that somehow, in some small way, he would help his forest friends in the future.