A Return To Chiang Mai
We drove down from the mountain tops of Doi Inthanon as night was coming quickly in Indochina. Diem, exhausted from days of trekking and hiking, had fallen asleep. She peacefully laid across my lap in the back seat of the black sedan I had commissioned for our journeys here. As we left the somewhat wild mountains and jungles of the northwestern Myanmar borderlands, the night began to glow with a devilish fire. A purple and red mixture vibrant and colorful, the setting sun behind us seemed to set fire to the sky with our retreat.
We arrived back in Chiang Mai as the city was coming to life for its Saturday night markets. But We were in no mood to walk the streets tonight. After arriving at our base camp Inn, Diem and I headed down the alleys surrounding our hotel. We found a cute little Thai restaurant that was still open. Most restaurants seemed to close early here in place of the nightly markets that pop up around the city. There is not much late nightlife here in Chiang Mai save the night markets. Even they get scarce by ten, and the city is fast asleep by midnight.
A Delicious Dinner
It was about 9:30 and two blocks away, down alley Soi Sam Lan 7, where we found a cute little Thai restaurant that had both the things I currently required. Beer and Pad Thai. The sweet lady at the door took us to a beautiful little restaurant corner and plugged in a floor fan to keep the stagnant tropical air and flying bloodsuckers at bay. Diem and I both ordered a local beer and Pad Thai. The sweet lady delivered our beverages and also offered us a bottle of mosquito repellant. It was right on time as the swarm had quickly begun to assemble around us, and I was having second thoughts about our condition.
Dinner was delicious. Thai food in Thailand is incredible. Why I must state that is beyond me. We enjoyed our dinner and headed back to the room. It had been many days of elephants, hiking, waterfalls, and countless other adventures, so sleep took us both quickly and thoroughly.
A Sunday In Chiang Mai
We woke rather lazily on this warm and humid day. The sun was long up, but things were quiet out in the courtyard below. They were usually bustling with breakfast patrons and daily activities, resident children off to school, grandpa cutting fruit in the open kitchen. Today there was silence. We showered and dressed while collecting our thoughts on the day’s adventure. As we stepped outside and peered down into the courtyard, it became evident that things were a bit different on Sundays.
The tables were there, but the massive doors opened into the bar, and the kitchen was drawn and locked uptight. Diem and I were hungry, but our daily Thai omelet at the inn would not be had today. So we headed out and crisscrossed the alleys and main thoroughfares, looking for anything to eat. Along the way to breakfast, we explored some of the city walls, ramparts, and the ancient mote in our pursuit of satiation.
An Unconventional Breakfast
Our search for breakfast quickly became apparent that we only had two real options: 7eleven and a street vendor next to it. We nestled up to the street vendor and ordered a piece of fried chicken, Thai sausage, and bits of grilled beef with sticky rice. Hot food in hand, we walked into the seven eleven for beverages, a loaf of sweet milk bread, and condensed milk. We walked back to the inn and posted up at our regular table on the patio, and enjoyed our makeshift breakfast of milk bread and fried bits of meat. It was very satisfying and delicious.
A Discussion On Tattooing
It must be said that Diem sees something in western culture that is very common to us but very exotic to Vietnamese. The art of tattooing. However, most modern movements in tattooing can trace their origins to somewhere in Asia and the pacific, the Maori of New Zealand, Samoan culture, Fiji, even Yakuza culture of Japan, but not Vietnam. The earliest records of tattooing worldwide come from Japan around 3000 B.C., but besides Chinese tattooing for criminal activity, not much else is seen in mainland Asia.
Diem has always seen my tattoos and often commented on them. My mother has two. My brother, most of my cousins, friends. I began to realize how widespread tattoos have become in western culture. Not so much in Vietnam. It is still considered taboo and outcast behavior there. So I was a bit surprised when she asked for us to get tattoos together. Preparing for life in America, she has commented on her desire to christen by the tattoo.
The Decision
I was very indifferent to the thought of getting another tattoo. I could take it or leave it. It wasn’t exactly on my top ten list. But with Diem really wanting one and us sitting deep in the northern reaches of Thailand. A spiritual journey seemed to be brewing. I had heard of the Masters of the region, versed in ancient Buddhist, Hindu, and Yantra tattoo techniques, and the possibility of finding a genuinely ancient and unique experience.
Diem was determined to procure a tattoo. If this is what we were going to do, I was determined to make it extra special. I had caught the tale of a one Arjan Master Tu Nametta. He practiced Yak Sant deep in a village just outside of San Kamphaeng about an hour from Chiang Mai. For a relatively decent fee, a young lady named Mind would take us to the market for symbolic offerings and then on to see the Master at his home.
Sak Yant
Sak Yant is an ancient form of self-expression unique to the ancient Khmer peoples of Southeast Asia. Their culture and script spread across many old Indochina, including Cambodia, Thailand, Laos, and Myanmar. But not into Vietnam. In the modern landscape, you see peoples all over Southeast Asia with derivative cultures, beliefs, and practices stemming from the ancient tattoo culture of the Khmer Empire. Though somehow, this was kept out of the eastern edge of Indochina. Tattoos relegated to fringe and criminal ideals and usage in modern Vietnam. However, this trend is quickly changing.
At least in this part of Thailand, the script comprises an ancient script influenced by the neighboring Cambodian language, which is in itself a derivative of the old Khmer language line. The art that is placed on the body is only to be called Sak Yant. Master Tu was clear to explain that to call it a tattoo was to diminish its power. The Sak Yant is to be only produced through the use of the ancient technique. In the old days, a modern needle was a 3-foot thorn of the tropical Rattan Tree, attached to an ornate wand. The wand is about 3 feet long and ornately crafted. The Master guides the wand with his right hand back and forth over the finger of his left hand, which rests against where the Sak Yant must be placed.
The Master uses only his rhythmic voice of chant and concentrated precision to harness his Yantra and methodically and carefully create the Sak Yant one prick at a time. Each element of the Sak Yant has its mantra, and each must be recited quietly and consistently while applying the Sak Yant. It is an impressive scene as he did a Sak Yant repeatedly with what was most impressive, speed. Each Sak Yant only takes the weathered Master 30 to 45 minutes each. It was incredible to watch.
The Offering
Arjan Tu Nametta was initially a monk in the mountains of Northern Thailand. Arjan Tu had been trained by masters in the temple strongholds of the highlands and spent much of his life wandering the wilderness as a possessionless follower of the Buddha, at one time spending ten years in the forests as a hermit monk. Finally, isolated and alone, Arjan Tu decided to come out of the wilderness and share his experience. He gave up his life of solitude, Married, and settled down to continue his passions of art and Sak Yant.
It was asked that we bring three things to the Masters home to offer up. An offer to his ancestors and in remembrance of his sacrifice. The sacrifices he made in his life to learn and master the skill he now feeds his family and funds his love of sculpting with. 1 bottle of clear rice whisky. In honor of the alcohol used to sterilize the equipment and body in times forgotten. One pack of cigarettes. To symbolize the tobacco and other herbs smoked and burned to ward off mosquitos living as hermits during their monk trials and tribulations. One-piece or bunch of fruit. A symbolic offering to mother nature and the bounty and sustenance she provides when in the wilderness.
The Arrival
I, a bit skeptical, had my doubts about alcohol and tobacco. But was quite surprised when we arrived at the property and found a pile of the offerings stacked neatly in the corner. We were also instructed not to drink before we came, or the Master would not perform his craft. His passion was sculpting, and Master Arjan Tu Nametta collected the offerings and sold them. He sold them to build his sculptures, often commissioned by local temple sights and always as traditional or religious pieces.
When we pulled up to his home, he had a large lot across the small country road that held what looked like his workshop. An assistant was busy welding a frame extension to a sculpture. No doubt the support for a new section the Master was preparing to create. We walked through the courtyard filled with statues honoring Master Tu’s Master, and most of the offerings and rituals were geared towards his Master.
The Room
The room was more like a garage that had been closed. It was probably built as it was, but the studio room was off to the side of the house like a closed-in garage would be. There were already others waiting, and we had also picked up a Brazilian couple on vacation here. The room was beginning to fill up, and we were all given pillows to sit with, legs crossed on the floor. There were plugs for chargers, and it was airconditioned. The Master had been entertaining a western audience, so expected comforts were available.
The front of the room was solid glass with a sliding door in the middle. Light curtains draped down the length of the wall. It meant to keep the dying sun from blinding everyone in the late daylight. At the head of the room sat the Master. Wrapped in what appeared to be a sleeveless animal print toga, The Master was comfortable and surrounded by a mind-spinning myriad of sculptures, head covers, ornaments, and artwork. All devoted to his tradition and culture.
It Begins
As time kept slipping away while we waited, it seemed to slow to a crawl. A person would begin, the ritual would play out, the Sak Yant would be complete, the closing ceremony would conclude. The following person would step up, and on it went. I must commend the Master for his ability to freehand such delicate work, but my western bones are not designed to sit on the hard tile for extended periods. Restlessness had overcome me, and everyone knew it. I wasn’t being difficult; I couldn’t stop standing up.
The day had melted away and darkened into night. Still, we sat in methodical chanting and light intermediate conversation. I was the only one in our group of four already inked, so I decided I would go first. Everyone else is content to wait out their turn, including Diem. I picked up my offering and stood up. I walked to the Master and disrobed my upper garments.
The Master gripped the offering with me and said a chant-like prayer to instill the Sak Yant with its mystical powers. I sat down in front of him and awaited his craft. He made a few chants over me and prepped the area to receive the Sak Yant. He opened a new needle, showed it to me, and cut it to length to fit his Sak tool. Master prepared an organic ink in a dish next to me and asked if I was ready. He had already asked my name before I sat in front of him. And so, in a heavy accent, he said, “Dennis, You ready.” Of course, “yes,” I quietly said. I was already preparing my mind for the coming persistently endless irritation.
The Experience
I can’t say whether it hurt worse than a conventional tat, but I can tell you it wasn’t delightful. At first, the stings were a bit shocking. Not the mechanical gun, rotating at 2,000 rpm and producing its art quickly and efficiently. No matter the equipment, the same amount of pricks must occur to create the same piece of body art. A gun often has ten or more needles and operates at 3200 rpm or pricks a minute. Sak Yant produces beautiful full and dark pieces with one needle and one Masters’s steady self-operating hands, one prick at a time.
In short, it hurt. The longer it went on, the more lost I became in pain. Steady, methodical, rhythmic, constant, and even predictable. On and on, the cadence of the wand sticking my back and holding me present and in the moment. It was more than what I thought it would be. There was something about the environment, the place, the time, the world I was currently experiencing. It was transcendent, yet I was more in tune with the now, the moment than I realized. I had become so wrapped up in the experience that I was relieved and wanted more when the Master laughed and told me to breathe. “You are finished,” he calmly said.
Steeped deeply in ritual, Master Tu picked up a mask made to symbolize his Master. He placed it over my head and recited another chant over me. Its purpose is to instill the former Master’s spirit and luck into my Sak Yant and fill it and myself with the spirit of its purpose. Every Sak Yant has a purpose and meaning. Diem and I had researched and discussed the options, but Diem wanted to get identical Sak Yants. I had no problem with this as I found the idea quite alluring.
Na Maha Samred Yantra
The Sak Yant Diem and I chose, or maybe it chose us, was the Na Maha Sacred Yantra design. In Thai, it means “Massive Success in Everything.” As many endeavors as we have been working, it seemed like a natural fit. A very eye-catching design, it was initially breathed to life by the well-known practitioner Arjan Noo Kanpai. Its unique scripture and art offer the bearer success in multiple facets of life, including wealth, love, and happiness. It seemed appropriate. I am happy with the choice.
Diem’s Turn
Something happened when Diem received her Sak Yant. There was something about it that changed me, changed us. This was a very intimate experience. Diem started this experience. I think she was surprised at how easily I was convinced to do it. I don’t know firsthand what her life was like before me, and I don’t pretend to understand cultural differences and other societies or any societies for that matter. But she wanted to do this. It was essential to her, she wanted to do it with me, and I was all in. She was very light and laughing when she placed a unique garment on to cover her torso, and she prepared for the inevitable.
It was clear, very quickly, that Diem was not entirely prepared for what was coming. As I know and anyone who’s ever had anybody art knows, once you start, you can’t stop. She shook her head a few times and looked at me in a gaze that said both, “I want out, but I can’t stop now.” The Master gave us a moment, and I held her head in my hands. Then, I looked deep into her eyes and asked what she wanted.
All she has to say is stop, I thought, But she insisted that we would complete this task together. The Master tells me to hold her skin tight around the design. I kneel in front of Diem and hold her in my arms. For at least 40 minutes, I try my best to comfort her with occasional tears and hold her while she gets her first piece of body art in Northern Thailand, At the Master Tu Namettas home, In the mountain plains, Northeastern Thailand.
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Click here for a short video of our experience with Sak Yant.
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