I’ve recently heard a different use of the expression, “Corridor Effect”. Rather than describing spatial changes of landscape patterns, a friend used it to describe the experience of entering a situation with a primary objective but finding unexpected doors of opportunities along the way.

Last month, while getting a haircut in Bangkok, I asked my barber if she could help me find a bilingual assistant to help with my current photography project. She said she knew just the person. A couple of days later, I met with Kamontip (Kamon) Chockthanyarat, a Thai education consultant.

In the course of our initial discussion explaining the purpose of the photo project, Kamon asked if there were other projects where she could help. I told her that there were two other projects I wanted to start but haven’t gotten around to them. The first was about the MlaBri people who I have wanted to learn more about for some time. I first read about them in the early 90’s. The article described them as a wandering nomadic tribe. It has been my intention to locate and photograph them. Kamon told me that she could get me access to the tribe through a friend of hers in Nan Provence where the MlaBri roam.

The second idea to photograph hands came to me as I left Hawaii this past June. Later, I’ll explain the origin for this idea. In particular, I wanted to photograph the hands of an experienced Classical Thai dancer whose hands would show her years of arching her fingers backwards. Kamon said she had a friend in Chiang Rai, retired from dancing but now trained classical Thai dancers. I explained I was more interested in the teacher’s hands, shaped by years of experience, rather than young inexperienced hands.

As I recalled from the article about the MlaBri, also known as the Yellow Leaf people, there is not much known about their origin. It was reported they are hunters and gatherers who build themselves a shelter from banana leaves; when the leaves turn yellow it is time to move on, they believe. The article was accompanied by photos of the MlaBri people around a fire with their shelter in the background.

As a high mileage frequent flyer, I was intrigued and attracted by such like minded people, always on the go. I wondered what effect urbanization was having on their territory, how large was this territory and what were their beliefs. The questions were the justification for my invasion of their world. The article gave the impression they were elusive and difficult to find.

The idea to photograph hands came to me earlier this year while having dinner with Ken Lambert at Chai’s Restaurant in Honolulu. Chai’s is located near the Aloha Tower where my friend David Booth coincidently has his business, Events International. Chai’s is across the road from Bundit Kanisthakhon’s Tadpole Studio where I was to attend the opening of “This Used to be Yours” discarded material recycled into art.

For the past few years I break up the California return trip to Bangkok with a layover in Hawaii, to spend time with friends in Hawaii.

It takes this level of convergence to inspire me with a new idea. Ken, an old friend who recently returned to live in Bangkok, by a happy coincidence was in Honolulu to film a documentary about Al Dacasacos, his Shifu (Kung-fu teacher). Melveen Leed’s , Al’s wife, a jazz singer, was performing at Chai’s Restaurant the same night as Bundit’s opening.

The galleries and restaurants in Honolulu’s Chinatown stay open late on the first Friday night of every month. I plan my Hawaii visits to coincide with First Friday. On this particular “First Friday” I was to meet Ken and his Sifu at Chai’s. After dinner I would attend the opening of Bundit’s exhibition.

So what’s the connection to Classical Thai dancing, you may ask? Melveen Leed’s piano accompaniment was Betty Loo Taylor, a jazz piano legend. I was fascinated watching Betty’s hands play song after song without sheet music, as she chatted with a passing friend, looking out the window, while never losing a beat. This type of detachment comes with years of experience.

It got me to thinking about an interview I once saw by Matt Lauer with Keith Richards. Matt was fascinated with shape of Keith’s the visible strength in his fingers from years of squeezing the frets. He even had the camera do a close-up of Keith’s hands.

After finishing my dinner, I walked over to have a closer look at Betty’s hands. As I stared down at her hands, I was taken by the fluidity as her fingers glided across the keys. Hmm, too bad I wasn’t carrying my camera. I made a note to schedule my next trip to Honolulu to watch her again and bring my camera.

On the return flight to Bangkok, my thoughts returned to Betty’s hands, and the hands of a Khmer dancer I had seen in Siem Reap just before I left for America. I first thought to return to Siem Reap and photograph the Khmer dancer’s hands. Why go to Siem Reap with so many Thai dancers in my own backyard?

It was the years of experience evident in Betty’s hands that fascinated me. There was that confidence resulting from years of repetition. The idea was to photograph the hands of a well seasoned Thai dancer who has been performing all her life. I realized this was going to be a challenge as I’ve never seen a Thai dancer over thirty. I made a note to pursue this and fell asleep.

So it was that when I met Kamon and mentioned the two projects she explained she knew a director of a Classical Thai Dance school in Chiang Rai. She also told me there was a group of the MlaBri people near a school she was consulting with in Nan Province, next to Chiang Rai.

The following week after meeting Kamon, she called and said she learned how to get permission to visit the MlaBri and her friend had agreed to let me photograph her hands at the school. I had a trip planned for Mongolia, so we agreed to travel to northern Thailand when I returned from Mongolia in July.

It is rare that events go according to my plan, so I have adapted a “Go with the Flow” approach to life. This attitude frequently results in frequently more interesting results with capturing an unusual photograph or two.

I was particularly keen to start the “hands” project for another reason. Lately, my unstructured approach to photography has troubled me, a little. As I aspire to be taken more seriously as a photographer, I have been trying to preplan my photography and shoot less from the hip. I have even tried working with models in a studio to get more control over the shoot and preplan the results.

Up until this point the majority of my photography has been spontaneous. In fact, for a while I had a working title for a book of a collection of my favorite photos called: Drive-by-Shootings, as most of the photos I liked the best were shot from the hip. Unfortunately, Gerhard Waldherr, a New York taxi driver / photographer beat me to the printer’s.

After returning from Mongolia, just missing the violent aftermath of the recent Mongolian elections by only days, I contacted Kamon to check on her progress in finalizing the details of the trip to visit the dancer and the MlaBri. She reported she was waiting to hear back from the Director of a Technical College in Nan who could arrange for my permission to visit the MlaBri. She called back the next day to say I had tentative permission. The appointment with the dancer was set. The plan, my plan that is, was to fly to Chiang Rai, rent a car and drive to Nan for the MlaBri, return to the dancer then back to Bangkok.

Kamon wanted to drive to Nan from Bangkok and back. That would have been a twenty-four hour drive. She then said there were no flights to Phrae. Phrae is south west of Chiang Rai. Nan is north east of Chiang Rai. “What’s in Phrae?” I asked.

The MlaBri! I thought they were in Nan Provence. Going with the flow, I soon learned, there are two groups of MlaBri one located in Nan and the other in Phrae province. There is also a third group located in southern Laos. For reasons I never learned it was “better” to visit with the Phrae MlaBri rather than Nan.

I managed to prevail in flying rather than driving to Chiang Rai,. Upon arrival we rented a car and drove three and a half hours to Phrae. I had visions of getting up before dawn and hiking through the jungle in tracking abandon yellow leaf shelter in search of the MlaBri. Ideally, we would find them around sunrise as they started their morning fires. My favorite memory of Thailand is the smoke from morning fires on the plains or in the mountains at sunrise, with the yellow light of the rising sun filtering through the fire’s smoke.

We had an appointment to meet with the director of the college at nine the next morning. Ah, could we start earlier? Ok, eight. There goes yellow light filtering through the morning fire’s smoke. Just shift gears and hope for the setting sun through the dinner fire’s smoke.

We arrived at the college and were invited into a meeting room. Meeting rooms in Thailand and Asia in general are spider webs. Once entangled it is where plans change and schedules are altered. Coffee, tea or water is offered. No matter what is requested, coffee with milk and sugar is served.

After the obligatory coffee break, we left the campus. I anticipated turning in the direction of the mountains, but no, we turned toward downtown. We arrived at another technical college where we are to pick up our facilitator, who has access to the MlaBri. I am taken into another meeting room offered a drink, request water, receive coffee. Ok, everything is on track.

I was told one advantage in coming to Phrae will be the availability of a trilingual interpreter (Thai, English, MlaBri). We are now five, traveling in a 4×4 heading for a muddy road. Ok, that sounds more like it, mud, 4×4. Maybe my expectations will be met.

As we drive toward the mountains, passing though small villages surrounded with paddy fields, I explain to the group what I would like to learn about the MlaBri and the type of photos I want to take. I did not want posed arrangements of the MlaBri flashing the “V” sign, but photos of them in their daily activities.

I’m told to wait until we get there and meet Bonyuen who lives with the MlaBri. He is a Korean American, who has been living with the MlaBri for thirty years. He has become one of them, speaks their language and he is an expert on them. He can answer all my questions. A what?!?! A Korean American follows the MlaBri as they wander through the jungle. This does not compute.

After I was told more about Bonyuen and what he has done for the MlaBri I considered turning around and heading back to Chiang Rai to focus on the dancer. In fact, however, most of what I was told during the ride turned out to be less than accurate. For starters Bonyuen is not a Korean American.
The driver shifted into four-wheel-drive as we started up the slippery slope to the MlaBri settlement. On both sides of the road had been cleared of native vegetation and and was neatly planted in rows. There was an occasional burnt tree stump giving evidence of slash and burn.

We received a warm welcome from Bonyuen who introduced his wife Mary, his son Ubon and his Korean wife and children. Bonyuen’s family lives in three masonry houses in a valley. In back of their homes a bright yellow building for guests. Bonyuen and I sat at a table outside, while Mary fixed a lunch of pork burgers and potato salad.

I soon learned that Bonyuen, Mary and their son came to Thailand as missionaries thirty years ago. They have been looking after the MlaBri ever since. We spent a couple of hours discussing the plight of the MlaBri, their exploitation and debunking the rumors and myths about them. I sat there feeling like Dorothy confronting the Wizard. Hey! Yellow Leaf People, Yellow Brick Road.

I much preferred my romantic version of the MlaBri. There was something very sad about all of this. I decided it was my vivid imagination had taken me on a wild romantic goose chase. Are there no discoveries left in the world?

There is the issue of how to manage the MlaBri. I’m not the only person to arrive there looking for a nomadic tribe wandering through the jungle, half naked following the spirit of the leaves. Bonyuen has come under some criticism for the changes he has affected with the MlaBri: sedentary existence, conversion from hunter gatherer to farmer, creating a handicraft industry (hand woven hammocks); lower infant mortality rate, longer life expectancy, and the elimination of their exploitation by local farmers. He has worked to update them, protect them, and provide for a healthier future with the same opportunities the rest of us enjoy.

The MlaBri’s plight is no different from that of indigenous people all over the world, Innu, Eskimos, Native Americans, and Aborigines. Should they be kept frozen in a time warp for tourist and photographers, or allowed to modernize? One variation is the MlaBri have been exploited as cheap, sometimes free labor for local farmers. Bonyuen has put a stop to their exploitation, sometimes putting his life on the line in the process.

I rode back into town with Bonyuen, listening to the plight of his family and their problems with getting Thai citizenship. It was the result of Bonyuen’s efforts that the MlaBri are no longer stateless and now have Thai identification cards. Ironically, his family is nearly stateless in Thailand.

It was now time to return to Chiang Rai to get ready to photograph the seasoned Thai dancer.
The next day I met Kai, the Thai classical dance teacher, at Chiang Rai Airport. Her home is near the airport, but very difficult to find. We met there, and I followed her car to her home located on the edge of a series of rice paddies that went all the way to the horizon.

As I exited the car Kai’s husband, greeted me. He gave me a very warm welcome and taken by the hand to the terrace at the back of the house. I immediately spotted a potential problem, as I stepped onto the terrace I spotted a karaoke machine next to a table filled with Thai dishes, a bowl of tropical fruit, and a large whiskey bottle. There was only about an inch of whiskey remaining in the bottom of the bottle and a fresh replacement nearby. It was only 11 o’clock in the morning.

We joined two other very red-faced men sitting at the table, one singing into a wireless microphone. After introductions, I was handed a glass of whiskey, a plate of food and the microphone was thrust at me. Where was Kamon? More importantly, where was the seasoned classical Thai dancer?

I’d prefer a hot poker in the eye to singing into a karaoke machine. I explained that I was under contract with a recording studio that forbids me to perform at private homes. My brand of humor fell on deaf ears given their level of English. Trying to refuse another drink with a claim to charter membership in the AA, didn’t work either.

I was beginning to see a pattern in this trip. When I traveled to meet the MlaBri I ended up meeting an American. I come to photograph a mature classical Thai dancer and end up in an impromptu karaoke session. It’s as if there is some evil anti-photographic force fogging my lens.

After what seemed like an extremely long wait, measured in glasses of whiskey, Kamon, Kai and Pookie joined us on the terrace. Pookie, is Kai’s 15-year-old daughter. I’m told a room has been prepared for me to use.

Why was I surprised when I was left in the room with Pookie and her very young and supple hands? When I chased after Kai to ask her to stay, her reply to my invitation to photographing her hands was that Pookie’s hands are young, fresh and beautiful. No doubt about that but…

There was no point in swimming upstream, so I went with the flow. Pookie was very patient and cooperative. She could fold her fingers backwards 180o. When I asked how it was that she was able to bend her fingers completely backwards, her mother answered. When Pookie was a baby she would soak Pookie’s hands in hot water then break her fingers. “Break her fingers!?!?!” Wait a minute, you mean to tell me that all infants have to have their finger’s broken in order to become a classical Thai dancer? Is this the secret behind the ability for Thai dancers to arch their fingers backwards so gracefully? I was about to go screaming from the room.

After a couple of follow-up questions, it became apparent that there was a mistranslation. Then I remembered the Thai word for break and bend is the same.

I finished photographing Pookie’s hands and tried once more to get Kai in front of the camera. The best I could do was to get her to wrap her hands around Pookie’s as I’d seen in a dance routine. Not my objective but something. I thanked the karaokeiers who were now sounding like bassets on a full moon night and left for Bangkok.

What was originally inspired by the convergence of friends in Hawaii ended in divergence in northern Thailand? Just go with the flow.

© Copyright Michael Morrissey, All Rights Reserved.

Michael Morrissey is considered one of the new generation of adventure and travel photographers. Based in Bangkok, Thailand with a passion for travel, Michael got hooked on photography while driving a bus from Istanbul to Katmandu in the 70’s; an obsession briefly interrupted with a twenty year career in business. You can view his photography at: www.mjmorrissey.com

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