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Filming and photography have as much to do with waiting as they do with the actual practice of the craft. Today was a great study in that truth.
As the time of our scheduled visit to photograph and interview a subject for another project I’m working on approached, we jumped on the motorbike and made our way from the farm through the village. Within minutes we had navigated our way beyond any sign of village life, or anything resembling civilization for that matter, into the remote fields and jungles of southern Sisaket.
When we arrived at our destination, and after a considerable wait where shyness apparently dictated a no-show, we wandered the area and stumbled into what might best be described as a serendipitous reassignment.
With eyes like a hawk my wife spotted a guy way out in a field under a tree with a long bamboo pole in his hands. His neck was cranked back and his face fixed toward the sky.
As if she were witnessing a miracle in progress she quickly instructed me to maneuver the motorbike off the perilous trail we were on and into the field toward the man. Before the kickstand hit dirt she had already dismounted and was mission-bound in his direction. I grabbed my camera from under the seat and double-timed it to catch up.
“Kai mot daeng,” she said as I closed the distance.
“Kai mot daeng,” she echoed again.
I figured she knew him and was calling him by name.
The man whose tranquil world we had just disrupted didn’t even stop what he was doing long enough to look at us. He didn’t pivot from his gaze upward an inch. In fact, he gave no indication he was aware of the infiltration on his property at all. (I love it out here.)
Still looking up into the tree with the strange bamboo pole, which I could now see had an open bag affixed to the end of it, he motioned with one hand back toward a tiny shack further into the trees, barking something in Thai.
Appearing giddy, my wife pivoted in that direction while I stayed put snapping away at the scene unfolding in front of me. She returned with a similar long bamboo pole but without the bag on the end. Stationing herself beside him, she raised the pole tip into the same place his was and began knocking it back and forth as if trying to shake something loose.
I’d seen her do similar movements with coconuts high up in palm trees, coaxing them down to earth. But this was a mango tree, and fruit wasn’t falling.
I soon discovered it wasn’t fruit they were after at all. It was what visitors from the city affectionately call jungle caviar.
The locals call it kai mot daeng.
Ant eggs.
A highly seasonal and rather expensive delicacy made up of the eggs and pupae of large red ants known as weaver ants, named for their unique ability to weave leaves together using silk produced from their own larvae, creating intricate waterproof nests.
Ant eggs are a staple in Isaan cuisine, with harvest season usually running only through March and April.
It was fascinating to watch. I am always amazed by the graciousness and calm of this culture. This isn’t the first time we’ve wandered onto a stranger’s property and been greeted as if we’d been expected all along. No fanfare. No questions. Just grab an oar and help with whatever it is we’re doing. More often than not a meal follows, and the time spent together feels like it was shared with long-lost friends.
After they had shaken loose all the eggs they were going to collect from the tree, and I had made all the pictures I could make, we settled into a nice leisurely conversation with the man.
I wandered off a few more times and snapped a few additional photographs: two tiny puppies running around with no apparent mother in sight, and a sow with her piglets tucked into a small makeshift stable near the shack that may have been his home.
Before we left he gifted us a nice bag filled with the ants and eggs my wife had helped harvest, and we were back on the trail, if you could call it that, navigating washed-out ruts and protruding boulders as we carefully made our way back to better roads, and eventually home.
What a great experience.
When we finally arrived, I followed my wife into the kitchen where she prepared the bounty for refrigeration with a mixture of flour and spices.
The next day vegetables were gathered from the garden and my first meal of ant eggs was prepared. Usually these protein-rich little morsels are added to omelets or salads.
But this batch went into a delicious soup.
Sep li krab.
Very delicious.
Having had a few run-ins with these hard-biting red ants before, followed by the immediate application of ointment to calm the sting and swelling, I have to say it felt pretty good to finally turn the tables on them.