Sabaidee Falang!

We rented bicycles in Luang Namtha. As we rode along the dusty bumpy village roads children would greet us. One little girl who barely reached my handlebars bravely stood in my path yelling "Sabaidee!" I had to come to an abrupt halt, "Sabaidee" I smiled back at her. Satisfied that her goodwill mission was complete she turned on her bedazzled two inch heel and marched back to her house. Later that same day we were riding along a busier paved road and we heard, "Sabaidee! SaBAIDEE!" Distracted by the black ducks in a nearby pond, we didn't realise the scruffy haired girl screaming from the door of her stilted wooden home was greeting us until she had nearly screamed herself horse. One final,"SA! BAI! DEEEEE!" "Oh she's talking to us...Sabaidee!" We waved back at her.

Coming back from a short hike to a trickling waterfall we see a group of young boys playing in the trees. I approach them with our camera miming the sign for photo I ask, "can I take your picture?" A few of the boys smile timidly, but before I can raise the camera between us another boy, the smallest in the group, steps up with hands on his hips and yells, "nooooo!" The other boys laugh shyly and look away.

During a stopover in Oudom Xai we enter into a strange and unusual retail occurance for northern Laos. It is a giant fluorescent Chinese supermarket. The security in this market is tight. Suddenly a boy and girl of about four years old who were heading past our aisle catch sight of us and stop dead in their tracks. The boy points to us and hollers, "Falang!" Once his pronouncement is made he rushes off momentarily distracting the staff who have been lurking at the end of the aisles watching our every move.

Seating ourselves at the Laojerm Chinese restaurant in Phongsaly the owners two very small children greet us with dance and song, "Sabaidee falang Sabaidee! Sabaidee falang Sabaidee!" It is a nice distraction from the other patrons who are horking onto the concrete floor.

On a tightly packed minibus from Nong Khiew to Luang Prabang. The driver pulls over to buy some fish from a roadside vendor. There are no scheduled stops on these buses so many of us use the opportunity to find a place to relieve ourselves. Most of the passengers are men and they have no problem finding a place to go. I run up the embankment behind a pile of rocks and squat down. A young boy catches sight of me from across the road. He yells and gestures to his friends, "something something falang something something." Suddenly there is a gang of six or seven kids all watching the lady foreigner pee in the rocks. I remain composed and try to pull my pants up while I am still squatted down. On my way back to the bus one of the bigger boys waves at me, perhaps in a effort to restore my dignity or simply to let me know he has seen my fanny.

Sitting by the riverside on a washed up log waiting for the boat. A pint size boy wearing a faded yellow t-shirt and green shorts runs back and forth in front of us. He throws rock after rock into the river, all the while jabbering away to us in Lao. His mother meanwhile is yelling for him to come up the bank. She is minding her makeshift petrol station where she sells petrol out of old 2 litre pop bottles. The boy ignores her and continues his chattering. He approaches Matt and seizes his giant hand in his two tiny ones, fascinated for as long as his attention span will allow. Back to the rocks. His mother is frantic, "something something falang something something!" Rather than answer his mothers calls he marches back to us. I show him my hand which he runs over with a smooth high five then he does the same to Matt. The boat driver indicates that it is time to board and so we do. As we settle in we watch as the boy's presumably older sibling drags him up to their mother. In front of the entire boatload she drops his drawers and begins to wash his buttocks. This is life on the river's edge in Muang Ngoi Nuea.

Falang Menu

I am not entirely sure how I feel about the term falang. I have asked many people what exactly it means trying to eek out the intent behind the word. I have been told "falang is foreigner", "it is Lao for friend", and "don't worry it's not bad." More than once we have been told it means French but since all westerners are white and have long noses like the French we are all falang. From the children it feels innocent but from adults it feels, at times, a certain malice is partnered with the word. I hear it when someone mumbles it under their breath or spits it to another local while they nod in our direction. I can understand why there may be animosity towards foreigners. Foreigners have ravaged this country in so many ways, the UXOs left behind from "the secret war" being the worst...I digress and promise to post more on what a UXO is later. In the meantime I am practicing good global relations and I choose to believe that falang is truly just a convenient way to say foreigner or friend.