Complex Survivors

Photographer Bonnie Hunter lived with the hill-tribe women of Thailand to capture their culture for a show at Princeton Day School.

By: Ilene Dube
   Listening to the tales of photographer Bonnie Hunter, one is reminded of that deep divide between

"Sprite Girl" (left), photograph of a girl in a Karen refugee camp, blends ancient and modern symbols. "Long Neck Karen" speaks several languages to the tourists who visit the refugee camp.

bold adventurers who foray to foreign lands, sleep on hammocks under thatch-roof cottages and eat food of unknown origins — and those who prefer the comforts of the couch, searching out life’s mysteries on the Discovery Channel.
   Ms. Hunter, a computer teacher at Princeton Day School, is happily a member of the former. She began traveling when her children — now in their mid-30s — left the nest.

Taken in Bangkok. In the early morning monks take their begging bowls out for offerings. People give offerings of food, water, flowers to individual monks for a day’s meal. Women must be careful not to touch the monks, even the sleeve of their robes when filling the begging bowls.

   Because she is willing to take risks, she is able to capture moments such as monks taking their begging bowls out for offerings in the early morning, a woman pounding paper in an umbrella factory assembly line, a child in a Pokemon T-shirt making a religious offering.
   The People of Thailand: Portraits by Bonnie Hunter is on view at the Anne Reid Art Gallery, Princeton Day School, Oct. 20 to Nov. 5. Looking at the photographs and reading the accompanying text is just one other way to experience the cross-cultural adventure.
   "Teaching, photography and traveling are the passions of my life," says Ms. Hunter, who has been to Thailand about six times in the past 10 years. The first time was with Overseas Adventure Travel, which gave her an overview of the country. She returned on several Earthwatch Expeditions, working with scientists. Helping to gather data, she learned about the environment and culture. "Chiang Mai (Thailand) is my favorite city because it’s walkable and because I know it. It is my transition city. I always stay in the same guest house run by Vietnamese people," she says. The guesthouse is just across the street from a school for the blind, where Ms. Hunter can get a $5 massage. "The people are beyond friendly," she adds.

Taken at the Craft Village near Chiang Mai. Various ‘factories’ line the roads. Instead of machines, an assembly line of people work with silk, celadon pottery, silverwork, wood and jade carving, laquerware, and the traditional hand-painted umbrellas. This woman is pounding paper, the second step in the umbrella assembly line.

   Over the years, she has come to know the women of six tribes: the Lahu, Yao, Akha, Hmong, Lisu and Karen. "The hill tribes of Northern Thailand hold a special fascination for me," she writes in the book accompanying the PDS exhibit. "Living with Karen families, I learned to cook their food, respect their customs and admire their crafts. Because the men are usually away from the village, working long hours in rice paddies or other fields, my lasting friendships are mostly with hill-tribe women."
   Ms. Hunter, who professes to be hard of hearing, has not yet learned to speak Thai. "Thai is a tonal language," she says. "After three weeks living with a hill tribe, trying to learn to say ‘I like this egg dish for breakfast,’ I was told that what I was saying was ‘I would like a dog on my lap.’"
   She was able to communicate with her hosts by drawing in the dirt or making pantomime. "Or just guessing," she adds.
   Ms. Hunter shows a photograph of the plank she had to walk to get to the hut of "Mama San" with whom she lived and cooked. Mama San was over 100, and in exchange Ms. Hunter did Mama San’s hair. The first night, Mama San pointed to the hammock where Ms. Hunter was to sleep, but Ms. Hunter took out her sleeping bag and pad and attempted to sleep on the floor. She lay awake all night, trying hard not to think about the little critters crawling about her. The second night was a repeat of the first, and the third night she relented to sleeping in the hammock where she dozed soundlessly. "From that I learned to trust the local people," she says.

Taken in Bangkok. Families teach their children religious rituals at an early age. Through an interpreter this boy explained to me the words and procedures for his offering at Wat Phra Keo.

   In all her travels, Ms. Hunter says she only got sick once, on an Earthwatch Expedition to Africa. She returned home with parasites and bacteria that had to be treated separately, and has learned to stick with vegetarian meals. The photographer will surreptitiously pour out food she is suspicious of into a plant or elsewhere so as not to offend the host.
   She has learned much about Thai manners. For example, it is an insult to point your feet toward someone. You should step over a threshold, not on it, and small children wear hats to prevent evil spirits from entering their heads — so it is impolite to touch their heads. Turning down food is the epitome of rudeness. "The exchange of food as a good-will gesture is universal," says Ms. Hunter, who has taught at PDS for 36 years.
   "The kindness and gentleness of the people made up for the living conditions," she continues. "It was better than camping. They do more with less; it’s not hard to be a part of that life."
   Hair could only be washed once a week from the rain barrel, so Ms. Hunter adopted the custom of wearing head wraps.
   The women of Karen, who are known for their weaving, are sometimes called the long-neck women, or PaDong, because of the brass neck ornaments they wear. Each year a new ring is added. The wearing of these is completely optional; a young girl often must choose by age 5. Many continue to wear the neck rings because of the tourism it attracts. PaDong will answer questions about their neck ornaments in "tourist English" in exchange for tourist dollars.
   Originally from Burma, the women have an idea they will return "home" some day so do not become Thai citizens, denying themselves access to free medical care, education and social services. Not allowed to work in Thailand, their only source of income is from tourists.
   Ms. Hunter has learned that some women who wore the neck rings and later changed their minds and removed them suffered little consequence. The neck returned to its normal size in time.
   Before she was a computer teacher, Ms. Hunter taught English. She studied photography with PDS photography teacher and photographer Eileen Hohmuth-Lemonick and learned from the other high school students in the class as well.
   Her earliest works were close-ups of twisted trees and car wrecks. "Because I’m nearsighted," she says, "I like to look at the details in nature. I still photograph twisted trees." From Ms. Hohmuth-Lemonick, she learned that every picture is a self-portrait.
   She also studied at the Maine Photographic Workshop and learned digital photography from Eric Kunsman at Mercer County Community College. She has shown her work at Phillips’ Mill, Artworks, The College of New Jersey and the Arts Council of Princeton. This is her first one-woman show.
   From Mr. Kunsman, she also learned bookbinding, and how to make the book of photographs that accompanies this show. "The pictures in this book provide a look at the surface of (the hill-tribe) women," she writes. "Beyond the quaint dress are complex people, survivors who are industrious, clever and kindly. They share many of the same hopes and frustrations of women — and men — everywhere."
People of Thailand: Portraits by Bonnie Hunter is on view at the Anne Reid Art Gallery, Princeton Day School, 650 The Great Road, Princeton, Oct. 20-Nov. 5. Gallery hours: Mon.-Fri. 8 a.m.-5 p.m. Opening reception: Oct. 24, 4-6 p.m. For information, call (609) 924-6615. Ms. Hunter offers travel slide shows — topics include Vietnamese Water Puppets, Studying Dolphins off the Coast of Spain and Galapagos Wildlife — and introductory seminars on digital photography. For information, call (609) 924-6700, ext. 208.