mountain goddess

I have reprinted this photo because there are some good stories that go with it. The story is from a few weeks ago. I had arrived in Yongzhe in the dark, hiking over from the Salween to the Mekong drainage so I had no idea what the town was like. I was expecting to get up in the morning and head out, but upon waking up I found the town beautiful and another member of my hiking group told me that there was a festival in town that day. Because the Watson is structured so that you wake up and say, "what do I want to do today?" I decided that I would like to stay in town to see the festival.

The festival was basically a procession of men, often on horses, from one house to the next. At each house they would go in, sing and dance, while maybe eating a small something or having a little to drink. I was told that what they did in each house was different, depending on what the residents needed or who they were. For older people they would do something to wish them a long, healthy life. For young people they would do something to wish them success in finding a husband or wife. For the childless they would wish for a child, and so on. In this way, each house would be likely to be blessed with what they need in the new year - as this was still a part of the new year celebrations.

It was also a celebration honoring the mountain above the vilage, which, I was told, was something of the spiritual heart of the village. Because the mountain is a goddess many of the men in the town dressed as women. This is what the picture shows. They would also put something like shaving cream on their faces and chase down male spectators, rubbing a little shaving cream off on the face of their "catch" as if they kissed the other man. I imagined that it was like a kiss of snow and am luucky enough to have long enough legs that I can run away quickly as I was often a target (I tend to stand out a bit). Of course, the first time I was caught completely by surprise by this practice, much to the humor of many in the village.

In the evening we (everyone in the village and the three of us outsiders who were still in town) all gathered in a large dirt floored building for dancing, in which a circle is made with men on one side and women on the other, everyone holding hands. I was befriended by a highschool guy working on his English and recruiting me for the basketball game the next day. He was impressed with how I learned the dance steps. I told him that this ain't my first rodeo, and thanked Fitchin and RDG.

I felt amazingly lucky to have stumbled down out of the mountains into this town where I was so welcome, and where mountains are so revered. It struck me that their hospitality and the unselfconscious way in which they celebrated may be the result of the town's isolation from other towns; the only way you can get in or out is on foot or horse. It is snugly proteted from the road running along the Mekong by a narrow canyon.