Ping is a shrewd businesswoman. With flare that would make proud the hearts of greasy salesmen the world over, she pushes her wares onto the unsuspecting consumers, convincing them with her personal touch to buy everything from metal bangles to woven blankets to miniature water buffalo carved out of driftwood.
Yes, Ping is quite a seller. The thing that makes her unique, however, is that she is an 11-year-old member of the Black Hmong tribe and, unlike other 11-year-olds, she spends her free time taking tourists on paid trips around Cat Cat, a tiny village in northern Vietnam.
The equation is simple. Take modern people with complicated, busy, stressful lives, give them access to one of many 17th-century exploration novels, and they will soon find themselves with the desire to see firsthand these "primitive" peoples with their "simpler" ways. The formula works -- so well that hill tribes are now listed as the second-most common reason why people visit the northern part of Thailand.
From the outside it seems so nice. Take a break from bills, school, work, kids, spouses or whatever else and become one with a tribal group. Just for a few days, mind you, because that is a short enough time to develop a deep reminiscence for uncomplicated times without being able to grasp the real hardships of rural tribal life.
Sip tea on the deck of a bamboo hut while chickens scratch the ground. View a "traditional" ritual dance. Take a photo with the ubiquitous wrinkly old tribal woman, her sarongs flowing and her teeth missing. Then go home and regale others with tales of the grand adventure, the exploratory mien that took you to such an untamed locale.
Yet it is not so simple. Hill tribes bring tremendous amounts of money into Asian governments, as do similar ethnic groups in South America and Africa. In order for these tribes to continue generating revenue, they must remain culturally "pristine," or at least appear so to outsiders. In some cases, this means preventing them access to technology that would better their lives or forcing them back into practices that died out years ago.
For example, on a trek to a Tay village in Vietnam, my group arrived a few hours early to find people not wearing triangular hats and tending rice paddies like the postcards, but doing menial chores while casually attired in Levis and T-shirts.
In Thailand, the previously dying horrific practice of neck stretching (elongating women's necks through the application of heavy rings) was most likely reinstated as a tourism draw, creating disgusting ethnographic displays for spectators.
In the Amazon, a prominent chief of a popular tourist tribe (the Kayapo) was maligned for buying a car.
What tourists see as authentic tribal culture is at best an unnatural continuation of former ways and at worst a derogatory and harmful "traditionalization" of peoples who largely want to move into the modern world.
Even worse, these peoples are often marginalized by their nations, exploited as tourism commodities while being denied basic rights and -- as in Thailand -- citizenship.
Paraguay and Bolivia have both moved ethnic populations to new "ancient" villages, while turning their native lands into pristine national parks in order for the government to market both the nature and the culture of the region.
Westerners are always saddened by the modernization of native peoples. But it seems that selfish motives underlay the desire to preserve traditional ways of life. We bury ourselves in irrational nostalgia, ostensibly unable to realize that earlier times were not necessarily better times.
The song has been sung before -- powerful governments using and abusing native ethnic groups to fill their own coffers. But this time we, the tourists and travelers, can make a difference. It doesn't mean we have to shelve our desire to see different cultures, but it does mean we have to set aside our preconceived notions and allow these people to be what they want to be today.
We should: stop forcing them to continue farming practices that are difficult, dangerous, and yield little profit; stop forcing them to dance and dress for rituals that are no longer performed; and stop forcing them to live without modern technology.
Most importantly, we should stop treating native ethnic groups like they belong in zoos.
Katie Kelberlau is a history and religious studies junior. Reach her at katherine.kelberlau@asu.edu.
