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October 19, 2009
"Double your pleasure, double your fun" - Inebriated Complaints Committee, Boatracing Festival 2009
To reiterate my sentiments toward inefficiency and bureaucratic irrationality, in Asia, particularly Lao, things often make absolutely no sense. Actually, even to the average Lao person, there is often a degree of "WTF" running through their minds - though, they would never verbalize it. The Boatracing Festival 2009 proved that when you try to correct a blatant error, protest is usually greeted with some kind of punishment.
On the morning of October 5th, circa 6am, a collection of moderately hungover ex-pats in hot pink uniforms, gathered at the Spirit House, a restaurant and bar sponsoring our team and also offering a discounted pre-race breakfast spread of eggs, fruit shakes, and "mystery meats". With the new boat safely secured on the banks of the Mekong next to our tent, we breathed easy knowing that a full year of sweat and toil fundraising for that log was going to culminate in the village's first victory in nearly 12 years. We chewed our eggs, slurped our smoothies, and waged bets over which animal parts were used to make each suspicious sausage on our plate. After an hour of loading up on the goods, we headed out as the sun came up, dragon-fruit pink shirts and all, toward our tent on the river.
In the same vein as last year the raucous started early. Crowds of Beerlao saturated country bumpkins were pounding on their homemade drums by 6:30am, chanting the same songs over and over and over again, the water deflecting an out-of-sync, inharmonious roar onto the masses. We hopped in the boat, paddled up-river toward the start, and met our competition near the gun-post. The irony of the festival is that everything usually starts and ends in complete chaos, but as a sport is founded on complete and utter efficiency and teamwork. Nobody knows who's racing who, there's no even start, just an approximation near the judges panel, and the "composure" practiced for the beginning of every race devolves into a melee of clashing paddles, river-water in every orifice in your body, and swearing in 50 languages (or at least in our boat). Usually though the Lao women's teams can their shit together and manage 30 seconds out of the start, gliding down the river in unison, the boat propelled forward by impeccable technique and timing. It's a physical symphony, their boat flying through downstream like shark taking no prisoners. They finish the race with the ease, leaving the Ban Saifong Neua International Women in the spray of their experience and perfection. Additionally, the women look nothing like the emaciated Lao women I know that grab at my love handles and tell me I need to eat more vegetables. The Lao girls on these teams are JACKED and ready for battle anytime, any place. I don't know how they manage to find these women from villages that subsist primarily off of sticky rice, but they're doing something right to breed such fierce rowers.
Anyway, we lost our first race but after the debacle that was our first race last year, I was proud of our performance. We rowed hard and the loss differential shrank considerably from last year. Following our first race we made our way back to the start for our second. This is where "WTF" began. In fact, everyone present at the festival felt the same way. We were met by a team sponsored by the Mekong River Commission, an international organization employing representatives from all of the Mekong countries (Thai, Lao, Vietnam, Cambodia, China) that works to protect the "integrity" of the river itself in the face of overwhelming damn construction projects and industrial pollution that spans across the region. Team MRC is usually half Lao oeople and half foreigners, so they usually match us in both inexperience and crap rowing. Therefore, we loath them and make destroying them the goal of the festival. We've beat them informally the past 5 years so this year, with their excess funding, decided to hire half of a boat of experienced Lao men to control the latter half of the membership. Another 15 members were foreign men, and a mere 5 out of 40 were foreign women. Instead of registering in the men's category like they should have, they decided that having 5 women in the boat qualified as registration in the women's division. Though not beating us by very much, given the 85 percent testosterone charged composition of their team, they did pull off a tight win. Both the foreign and Lao women our boat were naturally outraged.
I'll have to admit it was quite a site watching my Lao teammates, who never get upset about ANYTHING, and I mean A.N.Y.T.H.I.N.G, hostilely march toward the judges table to vent furiously over the injustice of the race. "POON SAIIIIIII Laiiiiiiii! Mi POON SAIII Laiiiii Laiiiii. Baw Diii, baw tamada khu kahn. Assholes." (Translation: You have many men. Many many men. So not fair. Not fair at all. Assholes (they learned that from me sadly)." The judges, already drunk, waved at us nonchalantly to go back to the start. They agreed that it was unfair and thus the races would be repeated. Reloading into the boat we proceeded to achingly paddle back to the start, only to meet the EXACT SAME WOMEN's TEAM WE ROWED AGAINST thirty minutes before. We lost, again, naturally. Then we were told to return to the start for our fourth race. Guess who's there...yeah, TEAM MRC. I know. Our coach, with the officials of the race screaming profanity at him, cowered and told us to go when the gun went off. Hence, we raced the same team that we complained about illegally registering in women's division.
But wait, it gets worse. Due to the delay caused by repeating our two races, the judges and all of the officials scapegoated our request for a correction as responsible for the 2 hour delay. Hence, instead of bringing justice, the injustice was exacerbated by making us row the same two teams again, and then blaming us for the delay and using our village's good name in jest over the loudspeaker. Our coach was beside himself, sulking and repeating, "I let you all down, I should have insisted on not racing. I am a terrible coach." Our village elders lost face and our men's team further punished by having to wait until the very end of the festival to race. Having been there since 6am, they baked in the sun the entire day and raced at 5pm.
Though disappointed, embarrassed, and wounded by the unfairness of it all, we and our village did what Lao people do when arbitrary prejudice strikes - dance, sing, and drink. What I love about this country is that though the government and its corresponding ministries screw up and rarely give a shit, the people accept the uncertainty and lack of control in their lives with a grace that doesn't exist in the West. As a foreigner living in the developed world you're groomed to think that you're entitled to control everything in your sphere, and that when things go pear-shaped, there's someone to blame, sue, or punish. Though I don't admire the lack of accountability in this country always, I do believe there's some truth to their resilience in times of tragedy and disappointment. We don't have as much control as we think and whether we like it or not, things are not perfect. That lack of perfection also doesn't entitle you retribution or the right to blame someone else. The motto here is, deal with it. Just deal with it - this too shall pass. Yes, I agree that mantra is problematic in more ways than you can imagine, but in many cases its the only way to move forward - by letting it go. I believe there is value to be taken from this perspective and it wouldn't hurt my fellow Americans to lower their expectations of the world and adopt this mindset from time to time.
So the boatracing festival went well despite the incurred inequity. We belted out Britney Spears and Spice Girl songs with our Lao teammates acapella as we waited for the men's teams, drank lime cocktails donated by one of our sponsors, and generally drowned out the disappointment from the morning with alcohol. After years of losing and a generally unconducive nature toward winning with so many foreign women never having rowed before the season, throwing a rager on the Mekong is what we have learned to do best.
I say goodbye to my team after two seasons of navigating one of the mightiest rivers in the world, walking through the forests with monks to choose the "perfect tree", slaving over traditional Lao dishes before Buddhist ceremonies, and cycling the 35 km out to our village through Vientiane Province, ringing my bicycle bell and "Saibaideee" - ing rice farmers, beaming their smiles from green rice fields under blue skies. Boatracing for me hasn't been about the winning, or even the physical activity itself. That village represents my connection with the culture itself, outside of the limited interaction you have with rural Lao while living a city-life. The beauty and simplicity of the lives of my friends in Ban Saifong Neua, their gentle, generous, relaxed nature renew my faith in the ingenuity of people, and the working ability of both Lao and foreign women to sustain an opportunity for women to participate in a heavily-male dominated sport.
Sunsets, smiles, and sweethearts. That just about sums up Lao and boatracing in Ban Saifong Neua.
Posted by mt_jmcwilli at October 19, 2009 2:03 AM
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