Cabbages and Deaf Culture

Phu Tubberg (sometimes written as Phu Tab Berk / Tabberk / Tabberg / Tubberg / Tubberk / Thap Boek) stands 1,768 meters above sea level. Historically, The Hmong People cultivated this soil to produce opium. Since its restriction, the Hmong have turned to planting an alternative crop: cabbages. With no place to stay or way to get to the summit, Beth and I set out on Friday morning determined to breathe the cold mountain air composed of redolent earth and sweet cabbage fragrances. ​

Between an unnecessary cab, shuttle, bus, three hitchhiking trips, and a final cab ride over, we were surprisingly content with the inefficiencies of spontaneous travel. In fact, the roundabout journey brought us unexpected small moments of joy.  While backtracking on a shuttle after taking the first 6am cab to the wrong bus station, we passed by the Khon Kaen School for the Deaf. My tired eyes widened and I squealed to Beth, “No way! I’ve been looking for a way to learn more about Thai Deaf Culture.” 

The state of California has two Schools for the Deaf, and I grew up walking distance from the school in Fremont. Though I didn’t have any close Deaf friends growing up, many of my peers had Deaf relatives or were involved in the Deaf community. Always intrigued by Deaf culture and sign language, I decided to pursue learning more at Tulane. I petitioned for American Sign Language as a foreign language, rather than just a linguistics elective. 

Daydreaming on the bus ride to Lom Sak, I flashed back to my first ASL class. While waiting for the teacher to arrive, a woman enters the room. I remember the professor’s first name is Rocky, and I think to myself this must be her. She goes on to describe the course syllabus but after a few minutes I notice she is actually interpreting the older man in the other corner of the room.  After the first day of class, this mysterious woman never returned and we were all taught by the real Rocky Miller, my Deaf American Sign Language professor. I was forced to immerse myself in ASL; it was an hour and fifteen minutes of silence, frustration, laughs, learning, and expression. He opened my eyes to the Deaf world and culture, and we were forced to practice mindfulness.  There were absolutely no distractions or note taking; we glued our eyes to our instructor and mimicked his signs, latching onto every manual movement and non-manual expression. 

The mysterious woman did, in fact, return my third semester. Rocky was a victim of the Baton Rouge flooding and at the last minute, Denise Crochet became my professor. As a hearing interpreter, she had a very different teaching style. ASL soon became one my most challenging classes, but it took my signing to the next level. Her stories of interpreting for famous singers ranging from Stevie Wonder to Keith Urban were ones we hung onto, along with many takeaway lessons. Extremely well traveled, Denise testified to the fact that she could often find Deaf people in different countries and communicate with them, despite the different sign languages around the globe. 

​After a great ordeal of reminiscing, we arrived at a campground. The Hmong people we encountered, greeted us with such kindness. We strolled by Qua, a local farmer, who showed us her organic strawberry patch and insisted on packing us a small bag for snack. Cows, cabbages, and hundreds of white heavenly butterflies surrounded us. The snowy darlings danced around us, taking small breaks to pollinate one vibrant flower to the next. We were in a cabbage patch dream.

As it is hot season in Thailand, tourists were sparse and we felt like we had the magnificent mountain to ourselves. Camping at the edge of the summit was breathtaking, especially for the morning sunrise. We awoke to a scarlet orb swelling in the fog studded sky at 6:30 am and for the first time in months, we finally felt cold. ​