A village spiced with variety

Buddhists, Muslims and Christians have lived side by side. Photo/Vipasai Niyamabha

While others were sucked away, Lah's home in Chiang Mai's Ban Yang village was left standing by the flash flood that swept through the village in 2006.

She remembers hearing the rising current swirl around the foundations of her house that day while she cowered inside. She and other Ban Yang villagers waited for waters to recede then ventured out to find a scene of devastation. The flood had destroyed houses, farmland and the first Royal-sponsored food factory in Fang district, a project in the heart of the village that was a lifeline for residents. In their place it had left huge logs stripped from the deforested mountain scattered like matchsticks around the village.

It was the biggest disaster the residents of Bang Yang had faced since arriving 50 years ago from China's Yunnan province, seeking refuge from political persecution.

After the flood, the villagers began to rebuild, and life around Lah's house slowy started getting back to normal. Then, early this year, the village chief told her that Ban Yang had been selected for a new home-stay scheme being run by the Interior Ministry's Community Development Department.

That good news followed the rebuilding of the food factory, which gives local farmers the power to turn their agricultural produce into more valuable commercial products. When Her Royal Highness Maha Chakri Sirindhorn presided over the opening of the First Royal Factory in Fang's museum early this year, things seemed to have brightened up for this small village.

Few people have heard of Ban Yang village, tucked away in the foothills of Chiang Mai's mountainous Doi Angkhang area. At first glance, it doesn't fit the profile of a charming highland hamlet. All its houses are rugged box-shaped concrete constructions, made to withstand the flash floods, while a spaghetti of electricity cables runs above the well-paved roads.

I haul my rucksack over the threshold and follow Lah to her spare bedroom. Now that her beautiful daughters have left the nest, married and moved to Bangkok, she has three rooms for visitors. Pictures of the family decorate the walls of her immaculate house. She shows me around the back garden and points out the dome of the local mosque, a stunning sight framed against the blue sky.

Outside the house, Lah wears headscarf, explaining that she was born into a Buddhist Yunnanese family but married a Yunnanese Muslim man in the village.

"Buddhists, Muslims and Christians have lived side by side peacefully here for years," she says. "I always get invited to Buddhist celebrations and get special requests to bring along Muslim desserts to the parties for the Chinese vegan festival."

The talk of food gives me a hunger to explore the village through its stomach. At a party that night, I find the perfect way to experience the diversity here as dish after dish is delivered to the table.

I bite off a mouthful of rolled omelette with pork stuffing (tung chuen)  mild but tasty  then sting my tongue with sun-dried fried beef strips whose herbal marinade I can just taste the through searing chilli.

The most exciting dish is the Yunnanese hotpot (yin nang khoko), or as the locals call it, Yunna suki. Served in a small cauldron, the delicately spiced bubbling brew conceals several layers of ingredients. After we skim off a few delicious, tender and aromatic pork balls, the chef walks over and spills the secret to eating this speciality: "Dig your ladle right down to the bottom so you get all nine flavours."

Taking his advice we hit a culinary motherlode black chicken, lettuce, taro, tofu, Chinese mushrooms, seaweed, rolled egg, minced pork balls and Yunnanese ham. The dish takes two days to prepare, costs Bt1,200 and might take you all night to finish. In place of rice, an endless spool of fried noodles arrives to soak up the sauces.

The party is powered by the local firewater, which has more uses than one: doused in the spirit and set alight, my black chicken instantly turns into a flaming phoenix. Two old musicians arrive to play Chinese melodies on the violin, which gets young villagers in party dress up on their feet and dancing.

One theory has it that khao soi, the popular Chiang Mai dish, was originally a Yunnanese Muslim recipe. There's evidence to support that claim in Ban Yang, where villagers make various different forms of khao soi. Strolling down the village road, you can see the dish transformed into sweet crispy snacks, packs of dried noodle soup, and at the khao soi noodle stalls in front of houses.

The village children learn Thai and Chinese - both compulsory subjects at the local school. Or there's the mosque's school, where young Yunnanese Muslims in white headscarves also learn Chinese. Sharing the road with mosque is the church attended by Christians every Sunday.

For a view over the whole village I take a walk up the hill to the Chinese Buddhist temple, where I'm met by the smiling monks who live, work and study in this spot.

First appearances are deceptive in Baan Yang. Peer below the surface and you'll see that its people have embraced differences to create a harmonious lifestyle that has thrived for half a century.

IF YOU GO

Getting there:

Fang District is 150 kilometres from the city of Chiang Mai. Take highway 107 and turn left at Doi Ang Khang intersection Ban Yang Village is nine kilometres ahead of you. Visit www.Baanyangchiangmai.com for more information.

The museum at Fang's First Royal Factory is a great place to get started as it fills in the historical background for a sightseeing tour of Ban Yang.

Visit www.FirstRoyalFactory.org for more.