classifiers.

Learning a new language is difficult.

Karen is admittedly one of the easier languages, so I’m glad we’re starting here. It’s fairly logical and straight forward, which I now see that English is not in the slightest.

Even so, it’s exhausting, and there are times you just want to bail and play the “How about I teach you English instead?” card.

Today in our lesson we discussed classifiers, which is admittedly the most nonsensical aspect of the Karen language that I have discovered to date. I’m not sure if this is common information, but the classifiers work like this, if you translate it to English literally:

I have older sisters, four {insert classifier}.  I will buy pumpkins, two {insert classifier}. I have shoes, one {insert classifier}.

So, you state your object or item, the number, and then the classifier. In the case of sisters, the classifier is for people, because they are people. Easy enough, yeah?

Or an animal: Do you have a cat, one animal?

I can follow this, and it seems simple enough, because there is a category. For the people classifier, you would use this for people: teachers, students, drivers, chefs, businessmen, friends, sisters. For the animals classifier, you would use this for animals: dogs, cats, pigs, horses. Okay. I can follow that.

However, I only knew of three classifiers, and it seemed like there needed to be many more. Unfortunately, the whole concept is really difficult for many Karen to explain, because it comes naturally to them; they don’t know the rules, but what sounds right; and, well, it’s nonsensical. I can completely relate because English is much like this. I don’t know when to use the present participle or past or present perfect, I just know not to say that, but this instead.

Anyway, I broached the subject today. I asked Lavender, “I would like to understand classifiers. I know three: grah, doo, and plu. I understand when to use those. But are there more?”

She said yes, there was one more. She taught me this one, and we tried to identify a category: she gives us a word that uses this classifier, we try to make a connection and guess another word; she tells us if it works or not. This goes on until we can identify a similar theme, or we get too confused or distracted.

As we continued talking, I gathered a list of ten classifiers. And as haphazardly as that came about, I’m certain there are more.

Just to give you a taste, here are the classifiers, and their categories that we came up with:

Please note that it’s too difficult to insert all the Karen here, so I’m just going to sound it out. But if you were here, I’d write it and read for you and you’d be much more impressed.

grah: for people

doo: for animals with four legs that are not slimy

pluh: all things round (balls, corn, cucumbers, pumpkins, tomatoes) ; things that hold other things (a chair, a basket, a box, a bottle, a bag)

bey: for things you can read (books, magazines); things that swim (fish, boats); things that fly (birds, planes); things you wear (shirts, pants)

boh: for things that slither or are snake-like (snakes, lizards, rope, beans)

kah: “things”; from what we gathered, mostly things that you say in English because there isn’t a Karen word, such as a fan, shelf, etc.

koh: shoes, bicycles, cars; not sure on the connection here

dey: leaves (tree leaves, lettuce, spinach, kale)

paw: flowers; which, this is actually the word for flower, so you would repeat it, “paw {number} paw”

too: trees

Are you royally confused?

That was the point. Really? How can things you read, things that swim, things that fly, and things you wear be in the same category, while trees and leaves each have a category to themselves?

Oh, my. And this is only the first language we’re trying to learn.

thursday.

I wrote this into a blog about a year ago, and I would write it every week if I could: things don’t really go as planned here.

Ever.

But really, I could say this to you a million times over, but it can’t really be understood without living it.

But as I was bicycling home last night and recounting our day–or really just the afternoon–I thought it was a prime example of things not going as planned.

I’ll warn you now that this might be way too many details for your interest.

It was a typical Thursday in most ways. I’m sure things had already surprised us in the day and we hadn’t accomplished most of the things we intended to, but it really took off at 3:00pm.

Due to Stephen’s motorbike helmet being stolen last weekend, we’ve been biking to work this week. If it’s raining, Stephen has taken the motorbike to protect the computer, but I’ve been doing a lot of biking. He’s felt bad about this, but I remind him that I’m the pansy who won’t drive the motorbike and that our computer is worth more money than most of what we own, and the conversation drops.

We had both taken our bikes to work, so we left at 3:00 to make it to our 3:30 Karen lesson, with a stop at our house on the way. The plan was to drop of the computer to prevent it from getting caught in the rain later and change into our gym clothes so we could bike right to the gym after language lessons.

We arrived home to find the electricity off, which I didn’t think much about. This happens often enough that we were sure it be back on by the time we returned for dinner.

We arrive at our teacher’s house for lessons about 3:40pm to find her not there. We walk into the entry way and sit down, as usual, because sometimes she’s a little late coming from an errand or something. We all run late around here quite freely.

Another Karen woman visiting our teacher comes out speaking in faster Karen than I’m competent with. I caught that Lavender, our teacher, was at the market, but not much else. We sat down to wait.

Another Karen woman runs out, this time with a phone. She has called Lavender, who then tells us that she is at the market, and tomorrow is good for lessons.

Thursday: regularly scheduled lesson, discussed and confirmed at previous lesson on Tuesday. And we’re here.

Friday: not a regularly scheduled lesson.

Oh, okay.

Stephen and I discuss our options: we could bike back across town the office, in our gym clothes, to work for the remaining 45 minutes or so until 5pm. Or we could go to the gym now in appropriate clothing, have dinner, and then go back up to the office tonight.

He has been a little swamped recently, so he wanted to work more hours anyway. We decide to do this: workout until 5ish, bike home, make & eat dinner, then head back to the office about 7pm for a few hours of work while we watch episodes of The Office.

We get to the gym, already sweaty from biking everywhere. And about ten minutes into my run, here is where it hits me: did we pay our electric bill this month? It’s in the “early twenties” of the month, and that’s usually the cut-off point that we barely miss…

Let me just explain: I’m a faithful bill payer. We’re not really the late people on that sort of thing. We pay within the first couple days, or at least week of receiving a bill.

But this country doesn’t always send you the bill.

We learned this a couple months ago, when our internet was shut off. I talked to the office manager and explained that we hadn’t paid for three months, but they hadn’t brought us a bill. How was I to pay it? How can they cut it off if they don’t give us a bill? Also, this has happened before: they won’t send us a bill for one, two, maybe three months, and then we get a large one. It doesn’t bother me; it’s just one less trip to the shop.

She responded in exasperation, because apparently this is obvious, “You still have to pay the bill even if they don’t give you one!”

Oh, so I’m supposed to go the company, about the day its due and ask if I owe them money?

In my opinion, if the company can’t be responsible enough to give me the bill, I shouldn’t be required the responsibility of paying the bill. Personal opinion.

Anyway, I’m jogging on the treadmill and it hits me that there is a pretty good chance our electricity isn’t going to come back on tonight.

Suddenly a night at the office seems pretty appealing: electricity to charge our computers, sit in the aircon, and see each other.

We head home, and Stephen attempts to see if the electric office is still open at 5:30pm. We missed them, so we meet at a pad thai shop to grab some dinner, sans dirty dishes or opening the fridge, and go to the office.

We stay until 11:00pm, because the air is nice, Stephen is getting a lot done, and I’m thoroughly laughing at The Office.

We go to head home, and Stephen sees that the motorbike gas light is blinking, at which point he remembers it was earlier, too…he goes off to get gas while I bicycle home through a ghost town of Mae Sot. I pass two cars, five people, and about eighty dogs.

And street dogs at night are scary. But that’s for another post.

I go up to the house to find a flower stuck through our padlock: a little present from the kids. This one is a fake rose, but they like to stick anything in there as presents for us: picked flowers, sticks, partial vegetables from our compost. This one is much sweeter and makes me smile.

And then we fall asleep in a very, very hot house.

it’s just jim.

“Every time I get a call from an area code I don’t recognize,
I hyperventilate because I’m sure it’s the IRS
calling to tell me I accidentally broke a rule I didn’t know about
and I’m going to jail.

But, mostly it’s just Jim from Sweetwater Sound.”

Stephen and I had a good laugh over this email from Kim, and I thought all of you who kindly signed up for Sweetwater’s giveaway in September or this month might appreciate it. Apparently you’re all receiving a number of calls, catalogs, and emails.

Oh, and I should mention that Kim oversees a non-profit, The Spero Project, and that is why she is afraid of upsetting the IRS.

And, we’re still hopeful! This month’s drawing for $33,000 worth of microphones, which include six that would be ideal for Stephen’s recording here on the border, ends in just seven days!

all i have seen.

“All I have seen
teaches me
to trust the Creator
for all I have not seen.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

the office.

Since we don’t have a television and relatively little entertainment options, Stephen & I watch through television seasons that we have on our computer.

Sometimes I do believe it becomes a waste of time, but when I think back over some of the hardest parts of this year, laughing to a 22-minute sitcom at the end of the day can go a long way, and I don’t think it’s all bad.

We’ve watched through Friends quite a few times, to the point that it was being quoted too often between us. We decided it was getting a little out of hand.  We’ve also enjoyed quite a bit of Modern Family.  I think I quite liked both of these shows because they presented very American-ized lifestyles: coffee shops, Western houses with soft couches and carpet, families and friends. It also helps that sitcoms tend to stick to “first world problem” story lines and throw in as many funny quips as they can.

As lame as it may seem, I have found that the fascods of facebook and sitcoms have been surprisingly tranquilizing.

Either way, we managed to get the seventh season of The Office added to our collection. This seemed a great reason to start over from the first season, we started that a couple weeks ago.

I have to say it’s not as much of a mollifier as the other shows, and I have a few theories.  For one, it lacks the real relationships of family and friends. It also has more “politically incorrect” aspects to it, which is bothersome when you are over-working yourself to accept and appreciate differences in the culture and friendships around you.

But I’ve decided the real culprit lies in the entire scenario: their office isn’t so different from ours.

And it scares me.

We’re just an odd bunch with very little in common, and among so many cultures, you can be offended by someone pretty easily.

And I don’t really know how else to describe it. It’s a little too close for comfort.

batik: part one.

This weekend, I had a wonderful opportunity to take a batik course in Mae SotThat’s right, our odd little collection of a border town offered this treasure!

A local nonprofit, Youth Connect, works with Burmese youth that have graduated from migrant high schools. The youth can apply to be a part of an apprenticeship program where they learn life skills and specific studies. Their program covers a variety of areas, including a guesthouse that trains housekeeping, restaurant service, front desk help, and the like; a repair shop that works on motorbikes and bicycles; and the Puzzlebox Art Studio, where they have taught pottery, painting, sewing, batik, and more. The art studio was responsible for designing and decorating the guesthouse over the past couple years, and now they are in the process of becoming self-sustainable through art sales, classes, and an open coffee shop on Saturday mornings.

This weekend I took the first part of a batik course, which is a traditional form of dying material that is quite common among Burmese communities. For my course, there were four of us taking it–myself, another Partners staff member, an eight-year-old and her grandmother visiting from the States. We had one Burmese woman teaching us with the help of a couple students in the apprenticeship program. And for just $33 to a good cause, we worked from 9am to 5pm on Sunday!  I’ll go back to finish next week for 3 to 4 hours.

I was able to make two pieces. I initially signed up to make a scarf: it seemed small enough to tackle, and I figured any areas I messed up on I could crinkle up around my neck. However, I discovered when we got there that if you sign up to do a scarf, you get to do a napkin, too, which was one of the other options.

Not sure really how that all went down, but I was given the long scarf shape and this square one, which is about 30″ x 30″. This seems pretty big for a napkin, let alone the fact that we’re in Mae Sot and cloth napkins seem a little fancy for us. I just decided to go with my trusty drawing of a tree that I sketch out somewhere on a regular basis. Here it is drawn on with colored pencils, which will come out when we boil it next week. It was stretched onto the frame after I drew it.

This is my scarf with a leaf pattern drawn onto it.

We then had to follow the drawing with wax, using these pipe-looking tools that you see around here. I don’t know the technicalities, but I learned this:

Sometimes the wax comes out smoothly, and when it does you better move fast.

Sometimes it doesn’t really come out at all, and I’m not really sure why or what I did differently.

Drips won’t look pretty in the end, but they are inevitable for some of us.

The wax is really hot if you drop it on your fingers or toes. Really hot.

My tree, post-wax.

My tree with one coat of dye.

They are really into fading, and I can’t say I’m a big fan. But since I really didn’t want to use the fading technique on my scarf and it seemed to be heavily encouraged, I thought I’d try it here. I still can’t say it’s really my style, but we’ll see how it comes out in the end.

Throughout the process it’s hard to imagine what it will really look like in the end. After its very dry, we’ll cover it in silicon and then boil it until all the colored pencil and wax has left the fabric. Quite a bit of a color comes out, too. Thus, what you see now will be a little different, and while you’re painting, it’s difficult to envision it without the wax or with washed out colors.

Here I moved on to waxing my scarf design.

My scarf, post-wax. As you can see, I didn’t do as well with the wax on this one. There are tons more drops and uneven lines. But as you’ll see later, this actually wasn’t my biggest problem.

In an effort to not make this all about myself, I’ll show you a taste of what my fellow staff member was working on. She was working on a larger piece of fabric she’ll be turning into a dress.

She was a more ambitious newbie. And perhaps more successful!

My scarf with one coat of dye. I had three shades of green, with red and a melon color sprinkled throughout. Here you can see the beginnings of my errors: while some areas had very thick wax lines and drops everywhere, other areas I did the wax line too thin. Since the wax holds the dye in place, some of my dyes ran. Quite a lot of them, really.

While planning on quite a bit of color to come out, I tried to do two or three coats on everything in an attempt to avoid pastels. I don’t really care for pastels.

This is my final product of the napkin, about three coats in.

This is my final product of the scarf, complete with a gray-blue background and quite a bit of spreading color spots.

And that’s a wrap. It was a long day outside in the heat while bent over a table or stretched fabric. But, it was such a fun project! I learned so much, and I love taking advantage of unique opportunities we have here.

princesses and castles.

As I walked out the door this morning, a sweet girl, maybe seventeen or eighteen, was with the kids and said hesitantly, but clearly, “Kelli, you are very beautiful.”

…And when you read that, be sure you have an Asian accent on beautiful, because that is really the only way to capture it.

Not a bad way to be welcomed to the world, particularly in the midst of some recent storms. I smiled and thanked her, and wished I could tell her how much her kind words and smiles mean to me.

It also made me wonder how long had she been practicing that sentence or waiting for me to come outside.

It made me wonder what they view our lives as. And, really, it made me wonder if they view me as some sort of princess: living in a sort of castle, getting all dolled up to walk out into the world with an audience receiving her and somewhere to go. Almost watching and viewing our lives as elegant or extravagant.

Which, I find all the more interesting and funny with the fact that if other circles saw our lives here, I wonder how many would be equally horrified: at how sweaty I am after my shower; at how I “do” my hair by adding gel and blow drying it halfway; that deodorant and mascara are my only key ingredients to leaving my house. That my “castle” has a squatty potty, and recently requires me to step outside to turn our water on and off.

…But my castle has walls, curtains, and a crazy machine that makes your bedroom cold.

It’s truly amazing how much perspective changes things.

I wonder what they think as they watch us: if they wonder where we go to the bathroom inside, or if they are curious why on earth I’m always sweating. Or if they understand that there is water inside of our house and a machine that keeps things cold.

For instance, when the kids open their eyes wide to cold water, discover magnets, and open our fridge with a look of surprise, its no wonder they like to sit and watch me cook or watch me hang the wet clothes that came out of the machine in the corner.  But do their parents know? Do they run home, recount what they’ve seen and have their parents explain? Or do they recount things that their parents are in awe at, too? Are the parents just as curious?

I suppose I didn’t start today thinking I lived the life of a princess in a castle, and now I’m wondering if I do.

bicycling.

Stephen’s helmet was stolen off his motorbike during home church yesterday.

Boo.

And since Mae Sot doesn’t sell helmets a) with a chin guard or b) large enough for our heads, here’s to a week of bicycling!

 

the airport.

Stephen & I had our first visit to the Mae Sot airport this week to pick up a volunteer, and it was too wonderful not to mention. Please forgive the camera phone photos and cherish the fuzzy images they hold!

This is pretty much it. The arrival area is off to the left, and departures are to the right. There is one woman at the check-in/information counter.

There are no restaurants, but one little shop showcasing the treasures of Mae Sot, including some boxed food.

These are the departure & arrival boards, obviously permanent enough to be pasted together. We were there on a Thursday, so they had one flight come in at 10:35am, and it left again at 10:55am–a notably quick turnaround that included a pickup truck pulling up next to the plane to move luggage. And after that flight took off, their day was over.

And, last but not least, we thought the sign to enter security was worth capturing.

I’m sorry, I simply need to declare them, and then I can continue right through? I’m hoping this is a translation error.

Either way, we really loved the airport, and we’re dreaming of flying right out of Mae Sot for an adventure sometime soon!

it’s coming.

There has been talk of a Tescos, Big C, or something of the sort making its way to Mae Sot. This would be the equivalent of a Thai-style Walmart or Target.

I knew of the possibilities, but I was in denial. Until we passed a very large piece of land, completely flatten, with quite a lot of machinery and workers for this area, and now I’m in mourning.

I was listening to “Big Yellow Taxi” while I ran the other day,

Don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you’ve got til its gone
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot. 

I don’t think I can really stop them from putting up the monstrosity and I don’t have to shop there, but I’m determined to at least know and be thankful for what I have now.

Even on the most frustrating days, I love that its not easy to cook here. I love that I am learning to cook with new vegetables and spices; I love that I can buy things from local shops, even if that means about twenty of them have to be visited!  I love that if something sounds good, I have to start searching recipes and experiment to make it myself. The challenges have been refreshing, and have really shown me the times I have settled for an easy pick-up at the store, when making it from scratch really isn’t so difficult. And it also shows me the times that it is well worth finding a local genius who can do some things for you!

I’m watching Mae Sot “develop” around us, and I just want to be sure I soak up this time and realize what I’ve got–simplicity. 

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