Things Thai. Tanistha Dansilp
of areca nut wrapped in betel leaf, for its intoxicating effect, was (and still is) a custom that transcended class, evolved rituals that helped govern social intercourse, and perplexed foreigners. Early Western travelers saw only effects that were, to them, fairly repulsive: blackened teeth, red-stained lips, and an abundance of spitting that left trails of red splotches on the ground. Yet, from India to the West Pacific, it has been a habit enjoyed by millions for at least 2,000 years (that is, from its first documented use in India). The offering of betel was a sign of goodwill to guests; affection in courtships; and honor at court. The preparation of the ‘quid’, or a packet of ingredients to be chewed, was considered an essential social skill. It was indeed the social significance of betel that not only surrounded it with paraphernalia, but also made the latter the focus of varied styles of craftsman-ship, some of it of a very high order.
19th-century mural from Wat phra Singh in Chiang Mai depicting betel being offered to a guest.
The betel set on opposite page, in gold repoussée, was from the court of Chiang Mai. The open cone-shaped receptacle contained the rolled-up leaves, which, in Thailand, were served folded in this shape rather than as an enclosed packet, as was usual in India and elsewhere. The other boxes housed the sliced nut, lime paste and optional ingredients such as tobacco, shredded bark, cloves and various flavorings. The ensemble was usually presented to guests on a pedestal tray, as depicted in the 19th-century mural at the monastery of Wat Phra Singh in Chiang Mai (above). The wooden betel tray (shown below), lightly lacquered with a decorative inlay of bone, is a more modest item.
There are three essential ingredients in a quid, which combine to create a euphoric effect and are as addictive, if not more so, than nicotine. The first is areca nut, called maak in Thai, a hard seed about the size and consistency of a nutmeg, which grows encased in a white husk and hangs in clumps from the tall, slender areca palm (Areca catechu). There is, incidentally, no such thing as a betel nut: that error crept into English around the 17th century through mis-observation. The betel is actually a green leaf—the second ingredient—from a creeper of the pepper family, Piper betle, or phlu in Thai. The third ingredient is lime paste, made from cockle shells that are baked to a high temperature to produce unslaked lime, to which water is added; it is then pounded into an edible paste. Cumin (Cuminum cyminum) is often added to the paste, giving it a red color.
Wooden betel tray, lightly lacquered with a decorative inlay of bone.
Betel set in gold repoussée from the court of Chiang Mai. it comprises an open cone-shaped receptacle for the rolled-up leaves, and boxes for the other ingredients.
The point of this unlikely-sounding combination is that arecoline in the nut is hydrolized by the lime into another alakaloid, arecaidine; the latter reacts with the oil of the fresh betel leaf to produce the euphoric properties. One side effect is that the saliva glands are strongly stimulated, which accounts for the large amount of spitting. The habit also resulted in the use of the flared, wide-mouthed spittoon, a common item in polite households. The characteristic red color of the spittle—and the issuing mouth—is due mainly to a phenol in the leaf.
Nowadays, it is more appropriate to use the past tense in describing the betel habit in Thailand, as modernization has largely overtaken the custom. You are much more likely as a visitor to a Thai house to be offered a soft drink than a quid of betel to pop into your cheek, and cigarettes are now generally a more preferred stimulant. In its day, however, betel certainly had its addicts. A German pharmacologist, Louis Lewin—as quoted by Henry Brownrigg in his book Betel Cutters (1991)—wrote in the 1920s: “The Siamese and Manilese would rather give up rice, the main support of their lives, than betel, which exercises a more imperative power on its habitués than does tobacco on smokers.”
As a footnote, it is interesting that while India is generally regarded as the home of betel chewing, the oldest archaeological evidence is actually from Thailand, where betel and areca seeds have been found in the Spirit Cave near Mae Hong Son, dating to between 5,500 and 7,000 BC.
Small silver box in the form of an aubergine. Fruit and vegetable silver containers have a long tradition in thai craft.
Small silver basket painstakingly constructed from plaited silver strips, and finished with coiled silver wire and beading.
Contemporary styled thai silverwork: a jewelry box with plaited exterior and an elephant lid, and hammered silver bracelets.
Silverware
khrueang ngoen
Silversmithing in Thailand follows an ancient tradition. Votive plaques from the 8th century have been found in Maha Sarakham Province in the north-east, and silver miniature stupas from southern Thailand date to the 11th century. The technical influences reached the country from all directions at different periods, and while techniques of working precious metals were probably first introduced by Indian traders, the strongest stylistic influences have been from Burma and China. The Burmese influence was felt most strongly in Chiang Mai, particularly at the end of the 18th century when the ruler, Chao Kawila, needed to re-settle the city after its long occupation by the Burmese: as he moved lacquer-working villages from the Shan States (see pages 13–15), he simultaneously brought in communities of Shan silversmiths. Since then, the Wua Lai Road area of the city, named after the original Shan villages from the Salween River, has maintained a silver-working tradition. This has been helped in recent years by the demands of the tourist industry, but has suffered a decline in quality for the same reasons.
In Bangkok, where the mainstream of precious-metal working took place, the formative influence was Chinese. It began at about the same time, in the Rattanakosin period. The whole issue of Chinese immigration into Thailand in the 19th century, almost all from Fukien and Kwangtung, is both fascinating and uncomfortable for many Thais, for while the Chinese quickly came to dominate trades such as silversmithing, they also eventually assimilated themselves into Thai society more thoroughly than in any other Southeast Asian nation. Both Carl Bock in 1884 and M. F. Laseur in 1885 noted that Chinese were dominant among gold- and silversmiths. In fact, silver was but one aspect of the situation; Friedrich Ratzel wrote in 1876, “while elsewhere they make their living mainly as merchants and only secondarily as miners and fishermen, in Siam they control the entire economic life.”
Ayutthaya-period repoussée silver box with the lid in the form of hanuman, the monkey deity from the ramayana epic.
While the Chinese brought new skills where silver was concerned, particularly in repoussée work, their tight guild organization excluded the Thais until the two groups began to intermarry. But over the years, their techniques spread outwards while they absorbed Thai stylistic influences. Sylvia Fraser-Lu, in her book Silverware of South-east Asia (1989), assesses it thus: “Their work has become virtually indistinguishable from that of indigenous Thai craftsmen. They are able to produce both Thai and Chinese-inspired objects with equal skill.”
In repoussée work, sheet metal is punched and hammered from the inside to produce a relief decoration. It is first coated in oil and then worked face down on a bed of resin. As constant hammering weakens the silver structurally, the piece being worked must periodically be annealed through reheating. This process forms a residue of black oxide, which must then be removed in a pickling solution of dilute acid. This procedure may