Silk Secrets (or the superfluousness of Royal undergarments)

By John Roberts 23 July 2008 04:33:00

    I read somewhere, some way back, that the secrets of silk production were originally smuggled out of China in the bodice of an Imperial Princess on being sent into exile, marriage or both.

    I guess the forbidden city beauty was being sent to wed a hairy hun, a vile vandal or something similar to secure the Western border. Whatever the injustice she felt she was subjected too, the story went, she took it upon herself to ease her way in her new life by bringing on one of China's more closely guarded secrets.

    With this in mind, when, sometime toward the beginning of last cold season, the mahouts' wives pronounced themselves underemployed and offered to show us the secrets of silk weaving I warily agreed to fund the thing as long as everyone could keep their clothes on.

    The first thing to do was find and plant some mulberry trees, the things what grow the leaves what the worms eat - surprisingly easy, it turns out as, over the hill and past the lake, we bumped into a couple of villages that migrated up from the dry plains of Isaan some fifty years ago - a trek and a half that must have been - bringing their saplings with them.

    The ancestors of those original trees are growing strong and, after a little negotiation in the old language a truckload of dead-looking stalks was procured...

...chopped up...

...planted....

...and grown.

    After an initial burst of excitement we then went about our business for a few months, the trees grew, the silkworm house was finished but all the mahouts and wives could think of to do was look after elephants - no-one so much whispered the word silk, my proud boast of a pair of boxer shorts by Christmas was forgotten and, not being a party to the secrets of silk, I began to wonder if this was yet another project of good intentions fallen by the wayside.

    One hot and dusty day, however, the bones of a couple of looms arrived, some silk was smuggled up from Baan Ta Klang and the process of sorting began...

...the looms were set up and weaving began...

...according to K. Muay over at Izara Arts our ladies use an intricate weaving method, unseen in the North, that allows them to create exceptionally detailed designs - the eles here are Plai Tawan and Lynchee.

    Me? I'm just a heathen layman who's amazed by anyone who can create anything. So far, so impressed, I'm not a driven man and I don't drive my mob too hard - this was not quite the plan of having the hideously complex silk process happening in camp, but if we can turn out Tawan scarves with smuggled silk, well, isn't that amazing enough!?

    But the world turns, the bamboo turned a dessicated brown, at the beginning of the rains Lung Lord and family went home to celebrate K. Som's inauguration into the monkhood. When the time came for them to return they did so with an ele, Pang Lanna, who they'd just happened to find in their backyard, under the bed, behind the TV, something like that and, thankfully outside their undergarments (Lanna wasn't in hidden in undergarments either, unexpected she may have been, legal she was - is that an ele in your pants...?!) a little bowl of secrets.

...fat on Isaan leaves a tub of silk worms got into their first meal of Chiang Rai mulberry...

...when the ladies have decided they're fat and old enough - glad the ladies don't get to decide for me - they get popped into a 'condo' of twigs or a traditional silk basket...

...to spin their silken cocoons.

    Unfortunately the lot of a silk worm may not be a happy one, having worked hard, lead a pampered first stage of life it's true, you weave your cocoon, dreaming of mothhood, only to be boiled, stripped of your cocoon...

...and be eaten with a little salt.

    Do not mourn, though, for the poor worm; thanks to the sustainability of the process we learn that the lot of the moth is not glorious either. Yes you get to fulfill your destiny and decocoonate (or whatever the scientific description is), if you're female you then get to lay eggs, then, having fulfilled your evolutionary duty, all you do is wither and die.

...the large moths are egg laden females, the males at least get to fly for a day or so before popping off this mortal coil - the females leave the next generation of silk...

...to help the wives of the Golden Triangle Asian Elephant Foundation mahouts garner an extra income, or given the interest shown and their obvious skill, work their way to worldwide fame alongside their husbands and their eles!?

    For the worms, had they a choice, I guess the question would be whether 'tis better to live a dull day longer afore ye die or die to dye in a blaze of glorious colour?

    Each has their role to play.