Playing dress-up at a farmhouse in Bhutan

A close-up of the fine weaving by Dechen

Back of the weaving

Earlier this week, I showed off the elaborate and colourful traditional clothes worn by the people when they attend a festival Bhutan.

Little did I suspect that within a week of enjoying the sights and sounds of the Paro Festival, I would be donning a Bhutanese outfit in the home of the woman who made it.

A little background first. We camped our way across Bhutan. There were a few nights in hotel, but almost three-quarters of our 15-day stay was in tents. I wouldn’t necessarily recommend that much time in tents there, but that’s another story.

For now, I’m talking about fabric, weavers, traditional clothes and a very special family in rural Bhutan.

We met the Lhadeen family—note: Bhutanese don’t really have surnames, but at least two family members use Lhaden/Lhadeen in their names—when we camped on a hill near their dairy farm in east central Bhutan. Their house is just down the hill from the small village of Sengor and they were returning home from a community meeting.

There was mum, Dechen, and daughters, Carma and Chokey. The three women were in dressy versions of the day-to-day Bhutanese outfit. A group of sassy schoolchildren came up to us just before them, doing the silly antics that kids do to get your attention. Two were especially bold and entertaining, and they turned out to be Chokey’s kids.

Chokey’s two kids on the left

Carma has quite good English, plus our Bhutanese guide, Tek, was there for extra translations. With warm hospitality, the family—mum was especially insistent—invited us for tea at 5pm.

I always feel a little sheepish about accepting such invitations. I don’t want to be thought of as the foreigner who takes advantage of generous hospitality from people who might not be able to afford it.

But the invitation was so genuine and heartfelt that we willingly accepted. Plus it was a wonderful opportunity to see inside a rural home.

Poor John didn’t come—he’d already taken himself off on a long walk. So Tek, Anand, Deepti and I set off just before 5. We shed our shoes at the bottom of the entry steps and were welcomed into the warmth—and I emphasise warmth because a cosy fire was going in the kitchen—of a Bhutanese farmhouse.

The farmhouse kitchen was like a family room with the wood stove in the middle

Tea and simple treats—popcorn is a common snack in Bhutan—were served and we exchanged mini life stories.

You already know a lot of mine, so here’s a bit of theirs. Mum and dad have three children—two sons and a daughter. Chokey is married with children, and Carma and the son—we didn’t get a chance to meet him—are both single.

Chokey, me and Carma with a piece by their mum

Chokey with one of her works

A work in progress

Nearing completion

We were treated to a show-and-tell of the looms and some pieces of wonderful textiles (kiras) the women in the family had woven. Kiras are rectangular, about two metres long, and are the main part of a woman’s traditional dress in Bhutan.

And then came the invitation to try on an entire Bhutanese outfit. How could I resist? The colours and patterns were breathtaking, and the work was flawless. Oh yes, why not.

Step 1

Step 2

Step 3

Step 4—see the clips at the shoulders

Step 5

Carma and Chokey made short work of getting me trussed up. If you look at the photos carefully you might be able to figure out how it all comes together. I’m still pondering how it all worked. There are no buttons, no zips, no darts—just two sets of clips that go over the shoulder and anchor the fabric, front and back.

Finally there’s a fancy belt/cumberbund and a shiny jacket over the top.

It was the dressiest I’d ever looked on an overland trip, and I have to say I scrubbed up rather well.

Step 1

Step 2

Step 3

Step 4

Deepti was next, and we had fun playing dress-up like kids.

At the family’s insistence, we moved into the shrine room for lots of pictures. The family commissioned someone to build and decorate the shrine for prayer and contemplation. The same painter added lovely artwork to the right of the shrine and to other rooms. You might notice some of the work in the kitchen pictures.

Then came the question from Dechen. Through Carma and Tek, she asked if I’d like to buy the kira I was wearing. The dairy farm was profitable, but not so much so that that they could put their younger children in higher education. So would I consider buying that piece for 20,000 ngultrum (their currency) or about US$330 at the time.

All dolled up and with Dechen in front of the family shrine

I gulped. It’s a lot of money for something I’d probably never use. That said, I knew the price was more than fair—I’d been in plenty of souvenir shops where prices were way through the roof. I saw a chipped and not-at-all special teapot (no it wasn’t an antique) that had a price tag of 10,000 ngultrum.

The price for this weaving—while high on the face of it—was fair to her and to me. The work was exquisite, and Carma and Chokey explained that their mum wasn’t weaving anymore because her eyesight was no longer good enough for the task.

Of course, this made it a one-of-a-kind and never-to-be-repeated item.

But I stalled. It’s not like I needed an elaborate hand woven piece of fabric. It’s really lovely, but it’s a lot of money, I said. I’ll have to ask my husband if he thinks it’s okay. Yep, I used Poor John as an excuse to think things over.

Deepti and Anand with Chokey and Carma. They thought Anand was like a giant

So we made arrangements to return at 9 the next morning for a final decision.

That evening, Poor John and I discussed the matter at length. We both figured Dechen might get 10,000–15,000 ngultrum for the piece in her local market or even from a souvenir shop. We also figured we’d pay about 30,000 to 40,000 for something like it if we were to buy from some souvenir shop.

But do you buy something you don’t need—that you don’t need at all? Finally, we came to a decision we could both live with.

Next morning was rather frightening. We arrived at the farmhouse to learn that Dechen was having heart palpitations. I suspected it was nerves, but you never know. We offered to take her with us to the next large town so she could see a doctor. That was rejected. She couldn’t possibly go without first saying prayers and giving offerings at the family shrine.

A magnificent shrine in the family home

The more pressing and all-important question was would I buy the piece?

The answer, of course, was Yes. And do you know why?

Dechen had me when she said she wanted the money to provide more education for one of her children.

Poor John and I decided to treat the purchase as a scholarship. You don’t get anything for providing a scholarship, except the satisfaction that a young person might go further in the world that they would have otherwise.

My only regret is that the ‘scholarship’ won’t stretch to allowing both Carma and her brother to pursue more education. At this stage, only her brother is studying, and Carma is now working in a town away from home. She pops up on Facebook chat every now and then to say hello. I hope her chance to study comes soon.

So if you get to Bhutan and then to Sengor, try to find the Lhaden household and buy another piece of Dechen’s weaving. Or maybe a piece by Chokey or Carma. Believe me, your money will go to a worthwhile cause. Oh, and my purchase of the kira put an immediate stop to Dechen’s heart palpitations. Whew!

Food
And if you’re feeling a bit peckish (Aussie slang for hungry), check out my cooking blog for a recipe on cucumber and salmon bites.

Dechen holding the ‘scholarship’