South Florida Sun-Sentinel (Sunday)
Tradition becomes tourism
Thai tourism workers profit from Myanmar refugees’ customs
HUAYPUKENG, Thailand— In front of nearly every bamboo home in the village ofHuay PuKeng are stalls selling trinkets related to the neck rings thatwomenfromthe Kayan ethnic group traditionallywear.
There are cheater versions of the brass coils, with helpful hinges for easy application. There are special pillows for sleeping with the rings, which compress the clavicle and create the illusion of an unnaturally elongated neck.
There arewooden carvings of thewomenwith their neck decorations and something called “longneck wine,” although, confusingly, the bottles are squat and round.
The entire economy of Huay PuKeng and other Kayan villages, fromlocal officials to tourism profiteers, depends on the metal adornments clamped around the necks of its women.
“For olderwomen, we wear the rings for tradition,” saidMuNa, 58, who sells trinkets in another tourist village. “For younger girls, theywear the rings for tourism.”
The Kayan are a small ethnic minority that fled civilwar in easternMyanmar in the 1980s. When they arrived inThailand, Thai officials, in concert with aMyanmar ethnic militia that operated in the border area, sawan opportunity: Instead of putting the Kayan in special camps that had been built for the hundreds of thousands of other refugeeswho were also escaping armed conflict inMyanmar at the time, theywould be put in newly built villages designed formaximum tourist visibility.
Once theywere set up in the villages, thewomen were given salaries of up to $200 amonth by tour companies. Thais— from boat operators to trinket makers— profited.
Critics have called the villages “ethnic theme parks,” with the Kayan on display as human tourist attractions. Yet for the womenand their families, the visitors guaranteed a steady income, even if it meant continuing a tradition that might otherwise have disappeared by the 21st century.
The coronavirus has
complicated the situation. Thailand has barred most foreigners to prevent the spread of the virus, and so few tourists nowvisit this remote corner of the country. And the fate of the Kayan yet again raises uncomfortable questions about cultural exploitation, economic agency and the challenging reality of life as arefugee.
MuTae sat at her trinket stall, her head floating above 18 metal loops that made the distance between her chin and her shoulders look impossibly long.
“The government told us to preserve our culture, and we did, but no one is here to
see it,” she said.
For years, manyKayan lacked official documentation to leave their villages, and they had no hope of emigrating to another country because theywere not in the refugee camps.
Those that could venture out, with proper papers, were often in for a shock.
“WhenIwent to school in town, everyone stared so Iwas embarrassed by the rings,” saidMa Prang, 22, whoremoved 20 coils four years ago. “Iwant to be a doctor and I think it will be hard to do that job with rings on.”
About a dozen years ago, though, the Thai government began allowing Kayan in the villages to transfer to the refugee camps so that they could apply for resettlement in a third country. Since then, scores of Kayan have started newlives in Finland, NewZealand and theUnited States, among other countries. None of thewomencontinue to wear their rings.
Unlike the Kayan in the refugee camps, someresidents of the tourist villages have received full Thai citizenship or cards that allow them freemovement in the country. But even after decades in the country, other Kayan have not been issued such paperwork, leaving them at the mercy of Thai officialdom.
“I’m not surewhy I don’t have an ID card,” saidMa Nye, 33, wholives inHuay SuaTao, the Kayan village most visited by tourists. “My daughterswere born in Thailand, but they don’t have cards, either.”
YothinThubthimthong, director of theTourism Authority of Thailand in MaeHong Son province, where the Kayan villages are, said that life in immigration limbo in one of the tourist villageswas preferable to living in a refugee camp.
“Though they are not Thais, I believe it’s better than living in the camp with tens of thousands of people,” he said.
The LongNeck Hill TribeVillage is a collection of bamboo shacks with intermittent electricity constructed by a retired police officer on the outskirts of ChiangMai. About 50 tourists a day, many of them fromChina, used to come and pay $15 to seeKayanwomenand their rings, aswell as other ethnic groups, like the Lahu, Akha and Lisu.
These days, the tourist attraction gets only a few visitors. And with no salaries offered, most of the workers have left.
MuNan, 22, has lived with her parents at Long Neck HillTribeVillage for five years. Her mother, Mu Bar, 38, wears 25 rings and is one of the most photographedwomenin the community. MuNanwears none.
Unlike her parents or her brother, who is a trash collector, MuNan received her Thai citizenship in 2020, a process that took three years of filling out forms and battling bureaucracy. She is nowstudying at ChiangMaiUniversity.
“I never got any education at all,” saidMuBar, adjusting the cloth under her coils that prevents chafing. “My daughter’s life will be different frommine,” she added. “She can do anything shewants.”