I left Thailand a little more than two months ago, intending to write my final blog entry soon after I returned. But life’s unpredictability interceded, and I was unable to write my final thoughts or access my photos until now. So forgive me for the delay and hold on for one more story.
On my last official day at NEED, we were to have our Grand Opening, when we would celebrate the completion of our new training facility where the students attend classes, use computers, and sleep. I did find some irony in that the official beginning was right at my official ending, but hey, … a party is a party, right? It was to be a full day of activities, starting with a Buddhist blessing ceremony with monks from a nearby wat, a Christian prayer service in the Burmese and Kachin languages, songs sung by the students, and lots of food.
During the Buddhist blessings, I lingered outside the room, peering in and taking photographs from time to time (as others were doing), but never venturing inside. I find other religions to be fascinating and moving, but for me, it’s always been important to make a distinction between respecting another faith and acting in a way that could be interpreted as following or participating in that faith. Ever the anthropologist, I prefer to simply observe.
As I was wandering around the buildings, I noticed that one of my Burmese students, John, was doing the same thing. I thought nothing of it at first, but then I remembered that he was a Christian and from a religious family, and I wondered if he remained outside the Buddhist ceremony for the same reasons. So when we both happened to be meandering near the kitchen, I asked him about it. John explained that as a Christian, he did not participate, and told me that there were three other Christian students in the class, including one that was Roman Catholic. (The other students were all Buddhist.) He said that if I looked carefully, I would notice that although they were inside the room with all the other students, teachers, and community members, they were not truly participating. So we peeked in, and sure enough, the Christian students did not have their hands in a prayer position. And at the end of the ceremony, when the monks splashed bits of water onto the group to bless them, the Christian students ducked out of the way just as I did.
It was an unusual bridge between these students and myself – separation from something else—but the connection felt very intense and I think helped us relate to each other more. After the ceremony ended, the students and I stepped to the side of the building to take photos. They were all in traditional dress from their various states in Burma, and it was fascinating and at the same time strange to see them dressed this way. We all usually wear the same types of clothing (t-shirts, skirts, pants, etc), so to see them in this incredibly colorful and intricate “native” dress made me remember how many people out there think that they probably dress like this all the time. One of the students, Rebecca, and I started talking about tradition, and she asked me if I had any traditional clothing or dances. And I started thinking… and I came to the realization that as an American, I couldn’t really think of anything. (What would I share, the Electric Slide? The Macarena?) But… as a Jew… I had lots of traditions. And this connected us in an unexpected and moving way. Tradition for both of us meant a meaningful connection to our people and past, a treasure chest of culture brought out on special occasions, and a source of amusement and occasional embarrassment.
Rebecca and I went to the computer room with a few other students, and on Google, I pulled up pictures of a tallis, kipah, and t’fillin. I talked to them about traditions for weddings and bar mitzvahs, and then I started to demonstrate the various Israeli folk dances, like Mayim Mayim and the Hora. We grabbed hands and started moving out feet, and when it felt like the students needed more, I went to Youtube and searched for the dances, and lo and behold… there they were. We discovered videos of Jewish groups from all over the world singing and dancing, and I found myself pointing out the girls with the dark hair pulled back in poofy ponytails, being excited that I could show my students that I am not alone in my looks – that at least some of my people have similar physical characteristics. Most of my students had met very few white people before, so it was nice to show them a snapshot of what my ethnic group looks like, even though it’s a very limited slice of what the Jewish world offers.
Though I was enthralled with Israeli folk dancing when I was little, since my teenage years, I haven’t been a big fan, to say the least. I’ll participate at the insistence of my grandmother, a close friend, or a cousin (the loving people who won’t let me say no), but my love for that sort of dancing has been absent for a long time.
But there I found myself, teaching my Burmese students the Hebrew words, singing at the top of my lungs, and dancing and jumping with all my heart. They all attempted the Hebrew words (and did unbelievably well), and when we paused to catch a breath and wipe the sweat from our faces, it was just a moment until a student requested another song, another dance. We did “Mayim Mayim,” “Yesh Lanu Tayish,” and one of my old favorites, “Nigun Atik.” (If these don’t sound familiar, you can find them on Youtube as well.) I will also mention that one student had learned the Hebrew alphabet in Burma as a part of his Christian education, which I thought was pretty spectacular.
So there you have it. I finally fell back in love with Jewish dancing, and all it took was a trip to the other side of the world and time with these incredible individuals. As the old Irish proverb says, sometimes the longest route is the shortest way home.
It all came together during that last day, during those dances. I found my purpose for being there—sharing my experiences and my knowledge, learning from those whom I was teaching, and contributing to make the world a little smaller for all of us.
Until next time the travel bug bites,
Rachel
Tongue Thai'ed 