Not a Peacock but a Ginggala: the Tai Yai's Mythical Human

The Japan Foundation Asia Center Asia Fellowship Report Maria Christine Muyco

NOT A PEACOCK BUT A GINGGALA: THE TAI YAI’S MYTHICAL HUMAN-BIRD IN PLACES AND PARTICULARITIES by Maria Christine Muyco and Khanithep Pitupumnak (Research funded by the Japan Foundation Asia Center)

INTRODUCTION

The Tai Yai, or Shan,1 are descendants of rulers and their subjects who had strongholds in upper Burma, southwest China (Sip Song Panna), and Laos. Schiliesinger (2001) describes Tai Yai history, including the narrative about King Mangrai, the ruler of Lanna (the Kingdom that included Chiang Mai) invaded and dominated northern Thailand. This region included the area where the Tai Yai live. The Tai Yai living in Chiang Mai now trace their lineage to the Shan State and Mea Hong Son province. This overlaps Lanna culture.

Figure 1: Map of the Shan State (left) and Mea Hong son province (right). (Source: Joshua Project / Global Mapping International, https://joshuaproject.net/people_groups/18205/BM. 2016)

Our research focuses on the present day Tai Yai living within Chiang Mai City who practice and present a music and dance form called Ginggala (also known as King ka la, Ginnara, or Kinnara). We seek to understand its ideology of practice and its meaningful

1 They are also known as Tai Jai, Ngio, Ngiaw, Niou, Ngiou, Ngieo, Nyaw, Ngeo, Sam, Sham, and Sen. They belong to the Austro-Thai linguistic family within the language group of Ta-Kadai. (Schiliesinger, 2010: 144)

1 link to the wat (temple). This is where performers experience a sense of place, which plays an especially important role in the lives of migrants and displaced people.2 The wat provides a linkage to homeland, to other members of the diaspora and to practitioners of various cultural practices related to the homeland. Through the wat members of the diaspora—priests, monks, nuns, musicians, dancers, teachers and laypersons—renew and grounding their identities through fellowships. As a haven and point of return, cultural practitioners draw their purpose for music-making and dancing from the temple’s teachings, in particular beliefs and practices that revere Buddhist monks.

Figure 2: The Wat Mahawan in Chiang Mai, which is where interviews and performances cited in this research took place.

The Lanna people built Wat Mahawan in 1795 during the period of King Kawila. In 1843 and 1867, Tai Yai merchants erected another building along with a Buddha statue on the temple grounds. Therefore, one can find Tai Yai architecture and arts on this temple’s site. Tai Yai music and dance are preserved and taught in this temple, as well.

Ginggala, according to Khru (Master) Sang Kham Jang Yod, a respected teacher and source of knowledge about this tradition, is a dance of a half-bird and half-human being accompanied by gong and drum music. To many, it is known as a Peacock Dance because many layfolk associate the dancer’s costume for the piece, especially the

2 Many Tai Yai have been displaced by conflicts in Myanmar.

2 headdress, with that bird. However, the headdress and the costume do not refer to a peacock, but a mythical creature. “You call it Ginggala if it is male, and Ginggali, if female,” Khru said. “However,” he added, “…simply call it Ginggala, a general term.”

The dance is performed during rice harvest ceremonies, the Shan New Year, at the end of the Buddhist Lent season, temple activities such as monk or novice ordinations, and other special occasions. The dance has also been adapted to the Thai celebration of Songkran, the so-called Water Festival marking the beginning of the Southeast Asian Lunar New Year.

Figure 3: The Ginggala of Tai Yai in Chiang Mai.

The Shan people place the origins of Ginggala during the reign of the great King Chao Seua Khan Fa, who ruled the Muang Mao Luang in 1311 AD. This king is also known to have developed the Shan language, as well as its music and dance culture. Another scholar known to the Shan people as Dr. Bahayan (full name not remembered) from Muang Seepaw, knew and conveyed knowledge related to the dance and its sixty-two steps. Today, only thirty-two (32) of these steps are still known (Khru Sang Kham Jang Yod, personal conversation, 2016).

Long-held beliefs of the Tai Yai as learned from their ancestors in Mea Hong Son province are being recalled in the Ginggala practice. The observances may vary from place to place but there would always be something common in the implementation of such beliefs. These include, among others, the 1) readiness to perform in consideration of age; 2) birth order within the family (as explained below); and 3) awareness of what the performance is for and the sacredness of the occasion. Thus, for public performance, the dancer’s age should be at least fifteen years old. Furthermore, a Ginggala dancer should be the only child, or if there are siblings, should be the youngest. This age is believed to be the start of maturity when a more serious disposition to the dance is held, respecting its sacredness and devotional aspects. Private domains, like one’s home, are used for rehearsing and developing one’s skills so that a younger person can express the Ginggala artistry within these bounds. As to occasions, it is forbidden to have the dance during funerals, as it is supposedly a celebration of an auspicious event. Otherwise, the

3 dancer will typically accept any invitation offered through an official letter, which is central in maintaining the process’s formality. This sense of formality is extended to the preamble of the performance by way of a bow given by the dancer to those in attendance. In particular, this is a bow to the teacher, the objects involved such as gongs, cymbals, and drums, to monks, and to others in attendance.3 Popped rice and flowers should be presented as an offering.

Clothing and accessories worn during the dance are considered sacred just as the dance is; this includes the headdress and wing-accessory portraying this feathered being, which also suggests mystical associations. Because these items are sacred, no one can step over the dance clothes, and the musical instruments. Traditionally, a mask was required in dancing Ginggala, although now this rule has been relaxed. The performers’ intentions are considered more important than strict adherence to consuming conventions.

How do the Tai Yai express “birdness?” In the literal sense of jumping, walking, and following the flight of a bird, the gracefulness in this dance is made whole by the marriage of martial arts movements. It is a sacred art following rules and aspects of Buddhist philosophy and yet, there is another side of “dancing for fun,” as seen in the dance’s function as an entertainment form. Formalists and elders, such as Khru Sang Kham, claim that this inclusion of entertainment elements in the dance undermine the dance’s beauty and depth as a cultural expression. According to him, the dance deserves to be preserved and promoted for the next generation of learners in its most elevated (or deep) form. Nevertheless, these two forms and purposes exist in the Chiang Mai society’s way of appreciating and practicing the dance.

As a collaborative research between Philippine and Thai musicologists, this article will incorporate perspectives from both scholars in order to uncover and highlight fresh insights on the fieldwork based on conversations with the Ginggala practitioners and Wat Mahawan’s monks, especially head monk, or Phra Theerawat, Wongkhatiyakamon. Localism as a discourse on “placemaking” becomes a central part of the inquiry, helping to frame the people’s ideology of practice of their music-dance as both a spiritual practice sited in the wat’s physical space.

3 While the reader may be tempted to think of those gathered together as “the audience,” we believe this word conveys an inaccurate connotation. These are witnesses to a sacred event, and therefore, are closer to congregants, or in the Buddhist framework, the sangha.

4 THE HIMMAPAN FOREST: FROM MYTH TO LIFE

Figure 4: Thailand’s Committee on Records and Archives (2004: 174) illustrates The Himmapan Forest in An Illustrated Book of Trai Phum Manuscripts Written in Tham Lanna and Khmer Scripts.

The Ginggala is considered to be an inhabitant of the Himmapan Forest. Pa Himmapan, or the Himmapan forest, is a place in the Tri-Poom, which refers to the three world- cosmology found in Buddhism and Hinduism. This name appears in Thai literature within sources such as the Tri-Poon, Pra Roung, and Ramayana.

It is believed that the Himmapan forest is in the Himalaya Mountains of Chomputaweep (India). Many mythical creatures live there: a horse with a bird's head, a man with a lion’s body, and other hybrid combinations. This Buddha visited this place after he experienced enlightenment, passing through ass he went up to the heavens to see his mother and share the knowledge that had dawned on him.

The creatures of this forest felt so happy to see Buddha that they welcomed him with dancing and other forms of celebration. The Ginggala together with his partner, the Ginggali (or Ginggalee), pleased the Buddha with a dance. To this day, the offering of this dance is remembered as sacred; it is an act of expressing reverence to the Buddha.

THE GONG-CYMBAL-DRUM ENSEMBLE

The ensemble for the Ginggala usually consists of long drums, a hand-held pair of cymbals, and gongs in a rack as shown in the next figure.

Figure 5: From extreme right, Paponnatee Srijunya plays the Kong Jum, or gongs in a rack. On his right side, Watchara Boriboon holds the hand cymbals while Master Suthas Sipthopthing is shown playing the long drum. Wonasit “Pon” Chansiri, the dancer in Ginggala costume is shown on extreme left.

A kong (gong) is traditionally handheld. The player strikes this on the downbeat, putting it in the role of metronomic timekeeper. Traditionally players hold a string attached to the hanging gong and beat its bossed area. However in Chiang Mai, because the cost of employing one person to play each gong is usually beyond the group’s budget (sometimes, also a sponsor or host has limited fund), or because ensembles cannot find enough gong players to cover a whole set, local players have placed the gongs in aligned pairs within a rack that allows a single player to sound all the gongs at the same time. This set of gongs in a rack is called, the Klong Jum. A long wooden lever, connected to a series of beaters assigned to each gongs allows a single person to play all of the gongs with only one stroke.

Kongs have names and associated meanings. The biggest gong, Gong 1, is called Kong Mea (mother), while its pair is called Kong Tat. Kong Tat refers to the sound produced by the paired gong. As gongs facing each other are tuned to a fifth above the gong in the first position for that row, Kong Tat sounds the fifth above Kong Mea.

Gong 2 is named Kong Luk (child). Kong Luk also refers to Gong 3. In the lateral direction, Gong 2 is tuned an octave higher than Gong 1. Likewise, Gong 3 is an octave above Gong 2. The whole set of gongs rings together on fifths in succeeding octaves.

! ! ! ! !

Every!beater!hits!inside!a!pair!of!gong’s!boss:! bosBs!eb! Musician uses one long stick to trigger the gong beaters.

Figure 6: The beating technique using many sticks but only one stroke.

The Tai Yai involved in this study have seven (7) gongs in a rack instead of eight. However, the tuning remains the same as designated to the seventh gong.

As noted, the gongs serve as timekeepers continuously maintaining a regular beat. The drum, on the other hand, follows the dancer’s movement. After moving around the dance space, the dancer will reach a point in the dance in preparation of pausing in a posed position known as the Dong da. Just before this moment the drummer anticipates this pause with a double-beat and a thump, much like a rock-and-roll “fill” before an emphatic cadence. This signals a temporary stop in the music and the dance. Once completed, the dancer and the musicians both resume, but do so at the beginning of a new dance-music section. This shift is evident in the change of movement, which is usually followed by a different rhythmic pattern. (See end of the measure in the 1st system, and the beginning of the 2nd system immediately below.)

The long drums are called gan yao (Sangkam: 107), or gon yao (9). However, people in North Thailand call this drum bu jae. Its parts consist of Na-klong (top of the drum), Hai Klong (middle part of the drum), Soen Klong (from the drum’s body to its base). The tuning material is called cha-klong – made from sticky rice and ashes. This mixture is put on top of the drumhead in varying amounts in order to tune the drum. Sometime players use dried banana as cha-klong. The more cha-klong, the lower is the pitch; by stripping away cha-klong, the pitch rises. These drums exist in graduated sizes; each tuned a 5th higher than the larger drum, although some drums are tuned in unison or octaves.

Only one drum is used to accompany the dance. However, if the ensemble plays on its own without the dance, the other 3 drums join the dance ensemble.

The drum patterns follow mnemonics, or memory devices. As explained through different interviews with Khru Hon and master drummer Suthas Sipthopthing, there are three basic drum sounds: pea-yub, pu, and nok ka kea. Pea-yub has two sounds; pea and yub. Pea is a long or open sound that is played by hitting the drumhead and suddenly lifting up the drum with 4 fingers. Yub is a short or closed sound that be played by hitting and stopping (damping) the drumhead with 4 fingers. Pu is a short sound made by hitting the drum by a finger. Nak ka kae is the blending sound that is played by pushing na klong down while its sound is resonant.

A drummer uses the basic sounds to create basic drum patterns: Nok Ka Per Tea Win (butterfly begins to fly) – using the pea-yub sound; Wo Kin Tong Tung Tong (a cow eats the kit bag); and Jang Wa Tub (a drummer uses a fist to hit the middle of the drum to excite the full resonance of the drum’s sound). A drummer may repeat, connect, change, or improvise drum patterns based on these aforementioned elements. The variations may also depend on how playing the drum goes with dancing.

The hand-held crashing cymbals follow the rhythm of the drum although sometimes, the player improvises his own “fill-ins” in accordance to the dancer’s before initiating another movement or new sequence of movements. According to cymbal player Watchara Boriboon (also confirmed by ethnomusicologist Khanithep Pitupumnak), the cymbals control the dance. It may vary patterns not necessarily duplicating the drum’s. This instrument, in some cases of performances in Lanna programs or concerts, takes the role of the gongs as timekeeper. The playing technique of simulating certain timbres of the gong is put into mind so as to perform its (gong) role.

Details about instruments in synchronization with the dance will be discussed in the next section.

ETHNOCHOREOLOGY

The Dang Doa refers to both the hand and foot movements of the Ginggala. In this dance, one’s head, arms, hips, and feet connect together. In particular, in the movement Sod soy fa, fa means sky (signified by hands lifted and moving upwards) while Sod soy tang refers to connecting to the people, which is shown through hands outstretched in front of the dancer’s trunk. If you don’t connect, you’re just thinking of people vaguely or generally, which means you dance without mindfulness. Through mindful coordination and gesture the dancer links with things, with the forest, the singing of birds, in the same way that dancing and the ritual of the dance connect to Buddha’s teaching. In the study of the binanog in the Philippines (Muyco, 2008; Muyco, 2015), there is the “li-ad” movement where the dancer bends his/her body to connect with the upper spirits of the cosmos. We see this motion and posture serving a very similar, connecting function as the coordinated gestures and positions used in the Ginggala.

Just as humans connect to the spirit world through motion, positioning and gesture, the dancer’s connection music – and the corresponding connection to the dancer by the musicians – is important in realizing the full impact and meaning of the dance as ritual. For instance, when dancers jump, this signals a change in the musical patterns played. Throughout these transitions, cymbals follow the drum, while gongs maintain a steady beat. As the dancer walks into the dance space, the musicians play sequences of changing beats. Movements called tha will follow one after another in sequence, or sometimes in random order according to the dancers’ style.

Tai Yai dancer Wonasit Chansiri -- also known as “Pon” -- explained that in dance, there is the term mea tha. The “mea” is the mother of movements, while “tha” (posture) refers to the offspring, which are the hand and footwork combinations. Pon uses nine tha(s): the Thang Twa, or standing in preparation for the dance; 2) Po waen, which is a gesture that involves wrist turning and twisting, much like the motion one would make while cleaning jewelry; 3) Kup wai, or bending and praying; 4) Mea (“Mea” is the same word as used in the phrase “Mea Hong Son”) Phad, which is a flick of an outstretched hand; 5) Mea Pad Yuen, in which the hand is outstretched while the dancer stands up; 6) Mea Hom, in which the dancer gathers his arms inward across the front of the chest; 7) Mea Yung Tha, which involves the hands making a circular motion while the dancer focuses his eyes on his hands while they remain extended in front of the body; 8) Mea Sod Soy, in which the dancer presses his hands one against the other; and 9) Mea Mok Non Kur, which involves the hands forming a flower or vine through a series of weaving gestures.

Our informants refer repeatedly to circular motions and central positioning. These are significant points. When dancing, the dancer operates in an imagined circular space. He may move from left to right, or vice-versa, but he always follows a linear motion as he crisscrosses quadrants of this circular area, rather like a knife slicing a pie. The dancer

9 introduces contrasting motion by moving clockwise or counterclockwise around the circular area outlined by both linear and circular movements. Although informants emphasized the linear motions across the space in interviews, the researchers observed these circular movements in dance performances. Note that the two forms of movement remain linked and coordinated: the linear movements pass through the center, and the circular motions orbit the same center. Motion away from the center inevitably turns back toward the center; the center is the point of gravity in the space. From the beginning of the rite -- the Dong Doa (bow/pose) – all the way to the ending, the dancer and the dance express reverence to one and all. This conveys a sense of inclusion socially and spatially; reverence extends everywhere and throughout time.) The circular area of the dance further reinforces this sense of continuity and infinity, since a circle has no beginning and no end. This symbolism is not exclusive to Buddhism; many world cultures use the circle as a highly spiritual reference and touchstone. Often it symbolically alludes to the sun or the eye’s iris, where “eye” could include the third eye. A priest or shaman would know such references and symbols within a given culture and make use of them.

2 1

Figure 8: The imagined circle of Wonasit “Pon” Chansiri, which consists of a core, or the center. This is where his movements are usually directed to even as he moves around the physical space.

A SENSE OF PLACE AND MOTION

Khru Songkraam (2005) describes the bygone days when grand Lenten celebrations in Shan State and Mea Hong Song province. These celebrations included the Ginggala. These ceremonies, or poi, centered on districts throughout the various districts where Tai Yai people lived. If one village planned to conduct a poi loung, a big ceremony marking the arrival of a new udosot at a temple, that village would publicize the event widely.

Nowadays such celebrations are rare. Many villages have become depopulated as a result of economic, political and military conditions. Some persons moved to cities,

10 some move to more stable villages and some relocate to Northern Thailand, particularly cities like Chiang Mai. As a result ceremonies have become smaller. About this change Khru exclaimed: “This is such a shame!”

Movement to Thai cities not only depopulates villages in Myanmar; relocation to cities changes the context of cultural practices and thinking. Living in the city requires numerous personal, familial and social adjustments. For instance, families might be broken apart, or a migrant may move to a city with a temple where she does not know any of the monks. Musicians that have worked with a given dancer for years may end up in a city far from the dancers whose work they know. Also, performance may be modified to appeal to tourists who lack the insight needed to understand and connect with the ritual meanings of dances.

Despite disruptions and influences, local dancers and musician practice and present their rites with sincerity. Generally, formal presentations of such dances take place under the auspices of and within the grounds of a temple. For instance, the dancers and musicians did not ask money as a fee when they performed for the researchers. Rather, they said that the dance is their gift to Buddha, a hai thaan, which means giving in exchange for merit. They remain true to their art, to their culture, and to their Buddhist practice as long as there are people who are interested in their identity and sense of being.

In her studies of the Tai Yai culture, Thitinadda Chinachan (2012) essays that in the past, the Ginggala does not require an audience; it is only Buddha who serve as recipient of the dance’s beauty. The dance is directly to Buddha as an offering or a form of a gift. This confirms the aforementioned statement (from the paragraph above) that the dancer who remains true to his art and performs well brings his dance into the fullest as a great gift to the divine.

According to Wat Mahawan’s head monk, Pra Theerawat, “Kantiyo” Wongkhatiyakamon, Ginggala is about happiness; it’s a gift and a form of celebration. It’s about being happy that Buddha will come to “Buddhaland.” When you’re happy, you sing, you dance; you offer your happiness to Buddha. This mirrors, recalls and embodies the original celebration of the Buddha passing through the Himmapan Forest.

The Tai Yai people have long lived in the city of Chiang Mai. While temple performances of the Ginggala form the basis and place of central meaning in this practice, they also perform for cultural and tourist functions and gatherings. In these contexts, anyone can dance the Ginggala -- male or female, or sometimes together – even though a single male dancer traditionally performs the dance.

Although the Tai Yai people have assimilated into Chiang Mai society, they remain something of a mystery to mainstream Thais. The Tai Yai dances, as well, remain known to a few, even by academics. For instance, music and dance scholars focus mostly on

11 Thai classical dance. Part of this comes as a result of accumulated expertise on Thai classical dance. This is related to a deep respect for all things associated with the royal house. So part of this distance from indigenous dances arises from a Thai desire to foster unity among all people living in Thailand. Recognizing a distinct ethnicity and its practices creates friction with this aim as the nationalizing effort in claiming everyone as Thai (indigenous peoples or other folk categories) is stronger. Historical factors also shape these perspectives. However, Rutnin (1996: XIV) notes that the Thai monarchy before the 19th century adopted regional folk dances and dramas and became royal prerogatives, even a taboo for the general public; they guarded them jealously not until the reign of kIng Mongkut (Rama IV) during 19th century. Nevertheless, the royal court in identifying itself with particular music and dance genres has decided as well in taking responsibility of its country’s cultural development. This aspect is strategic to the development of its other key areas: social, political, economic and even spirituality as music-dances identified as “royal” serve and propel these areas in certain ways.

Some 20-30 years ago, city people looked down on the dance and music of ethnic groups in Chiang Mai. However, distinct, local dance and music, and textile, practices gradually re-emerged in the city and its outskirts, gaining visibility among Thais and tourists. In particular, tourists have demonstrated a significant appetite for clothing and textiles rendered in ethnic style.4 Tourists have demonstrated a strong interest in buying mementos of their trip that are closely associated with a particular place in a given country. In Chiang Mai the work of ethnic peoples fits this bill since Thai products could be purchased elsewhere, such as Bangkok. Since music and dance is ephemeral, the objects associated with music and dance – drums, cymbals, as well as costumes and accessories worn during performances – serve as meaningful mementos.

Many tourists visit Chiang Mai to appreciate temple architecture. However, many go beyond seeing the buildings and snapping a few photos by learning more about the cultures of Thailand. These investigations including learning about religious practices and other temple-based activities, such as music-making and dancing.

Master Songkraam believes that there is meaning within art made and presented as an expression of one’s belief. For instance, the Ginggala expresses joy through dance and offers this joy through art. This notion transcends doctrine; the Ginggala exists in stories that predate Buddhism. Even so it has been incorporated into Buddhist practice and storytelling since the basic ethos of joy, generosity and happiness fits both within Buddhist ethics and practices. Therefore a story about celebration of Buddha’s arrival in a place that motivates the inhabitants of that realm to celebrate makes clear sense to Buddhist practitioners in contemporary Chiang Mai.

4 Unfortunately, much of this is not truly traditional or produced by tribal people. Even when it is, middlemen often take a large fraction of the total revenues generated through the making and sales of such items.

12 As explained by the head monk of Wat Mahawan, the temple is the heart of Tai Yai musicians’ practice of culture. It is here where an acquired cultural expressivity via a bird dance happens. This practice encompasses spirituality via the offering of one’s gifts expressed in music and dance. The Dhamma (rule/law) becomes alive in the offering of these gifts since doing so reinforces relationships: between man-and-Buddha; between man-and-nature; and between man-and-man gain strength and depth in this way. In particular, the relationship between man-and-man comes alive most deeply since humans are more keenly attuned to understanding harmony and order though music and dance.

Figure 9: Phra Theerawat Wongkhatiyakamon illustrates and explicates the centricity of the temple to man’s life where his talents can be harnessed for the pursuit of enlightenment.

Considering dance and music as offertory forms links both to the notion of hai tharn, or giving in exchange for merit. Recall that the Ginggala danced for the Buddha as a joyous offering. In its modern, temple-centered practice, the dance retains its basic offertory significance. The music-and-dance form serves as a prayer to Buddha and to humanity. The dance’s choreology, which emphasizes and embodies the importance centrality, puts the center of the dance within the temple; the temple is the center around which the community and its people revolve. The music-making, dancing, and singing/chanting at the temple are all forms of prayers given to the revered teacher, the Buddha.

Tai-yai people face many issues. On one hand Thais consider them “ethnic,” but not wholly “indigenous” since the culture has roots in Myanmar. In some ways they have assimilation into Chiang Mai society; on the other, they still remain marginalized and displaced. This lack of belonging is underscored by policymaking. For instance, the government can take away their settlements at anytime. More broadly, the city and its modern pressures produce wrenching changes for many individuals and parts of the community. The Free Bird Café/Thai Freedom Houses, based in Chiang Mai, is one of the agencies assisting Tai Yai community members. The Café helps with finding jobs, job

13 training, explaining various unfamiliar aspects of city life and Thai working culture. More generally, the organization helps Tai Yai community members, especially recently arrived persons, to find and define a sense of self and agency. The Café’s founder, Lisa Nesser, noted that one of the difficulties migrants face in this process is encountering and coping with discrimination. Many Thais look down on Tai Yai’s sense of ethnicity, language, and customs. In more concrete terms, Tai Yai’s usually face pay discrimination. Even so, migrants generally try to blend in. They have adjusted to Chiang Mai’s culture and yet have kept their home cultural selves intact one way or another. The sense of “place” among the Tai Yai people seems to be variable and dynamic.

The Wat Gu Toa community is a Tai Yai group that engages in placemaking efforts. This group teaches Ginggala, as well as offering instruction on playing the musical instruments associated with the dance, such long drums and gongs. This community redoubles its efforts in teaching Tai Yai youths this knowledge. This temple-based community also works to develop the Tai Yai people’s awareness about their roots, inculcating the value of cultural preservation, or better yet, cultural enrichment via active engagement with cultural education and activities. The teaching incorporates the importance of building identity. The community also works with non-Tai Yai. The group conducts the same sorts of interventions with non-Tai Yai as it does within the Tai Yai community. In short, it supports those who want to construct and strengthen their self- and communal identity amid the pressures of a constantly changing and sometimes hostile urban environment.

Sometimes such support comes from outside the Tai Yai community. For instance, the people of Chiang Mai have figuratively “adopted” the Ginggala and its music ensemble as part of Lanna culture. Notably, some schools use the Ginggala as part of their music and dance lessons. Moreover, many events or festivals in Chiang Mai city use the performance of Ginggala to show that the Tai Yai and their cultural traditions are a part of Lanna. These steps demonstrate a kind of cultural confluence: the Tai Yai absorb aspects of the Lanna culture, while influencing the Thais in Chiang Mai, as well as the general Lanna populace and visitors to the area.

CONCLUSION

In the course of discussion, we observed confluence at work among our research participants. The ensemble led by Master Khru Hon, the Tai Yai master drummer based in Chiang Mai, includes a majority of non-Tai Yai members. The Thai members of the ensemble seek to be part of something authentically, identifiably local. Therefore, they take on a “presentational identity” that identifies them as Tai Yai when they perform the Ginggala with those who are ethnically Tai Yai. This rhetoric of the “local” no longer limits itself within the bounds of an original place, or a single definition of identity within a place. It both transcends such boundaries, and in doing so, creates a new place; Shan State and Mea Hong Son province can share an identity. The place where migrants have settled also becomes the place most strongly identified with deeply rooted, traditional

14 practices because of the cultural work done by those migrants. At the same time the vector created by these migrants that connect them with Shan State in their history also points to Lanna in their present, although Lanna is a very old construct. In this way, The Tai Yai conduct placemaking within Chiang Mai for themselves, as well as others.

The Ginggala hovers over this process, occupying multiple temporal spaces, and drawing together linkages to other lands and kingdoms distant in space and time. In this way the Ginggala as a mythic presence, and as a living practice, remind and reaffirm the people of Chiang Mai of their identities, spiritualities and daily lived practices in this city.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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15 Bangkok, Thailand: Lotus Press, 2001.

RESEARCH PARTICIPANTS

1. Khru (Master) Sang Kham Jang Yod, the most recognized living master of Tai Yai dance and music. He has trained most ensembles in the city of Chiang Mai. Originally from Shan State, he moved to Mea Hong Son province where he trained culturally. Later, he gained residency in Chiang Mai province. 2. Suthas Sipthopthing, master drummer. He is a teacher of Tai Yai musical instruments. 3. Phra Theerawat Wongkhatiyakamon, the head monk of Wat Mahawan in Chiang Mai, Thailand and avid supporter of the Tai Yai music. 4. Thitinadda Chinachan, researcher and author of books and materials on the Tai Yai culture and life. She is currently working in Chiang Mai’s Social Research Institute. 5. Wonasit “Pon” Chansiri, Tai Yai Ginnala dancer. He is also an expert drummer and knows various musical instruments of the Tai Yai. 6. Rhatchapong Phattanapongthing, drummer. He also plays for the ensemble including in temple activities. 7. Watchara Boriboon, cymbal player. He has been a member of the ensemble for many years and has trained with the older members. 8. Paponnatee Srijunya, gong player. A longtime resident of the city and a loyal member of the ensemble even if he is not indigenously related to the group. 9. Jatarayud Nakhom, gong player; but also plays the drum when extra players are needed.

Photo on left side shows (from extreme left) master drummer Suthas Sipthopthing, Phra Theerawat Wongkhatiyakamon (head monk of Wat Mahawan), author Maria Christine Muyco, and Thitinadda Chinachan, researcher of Chiang Mai’s Social Research Institute. Photo on the right shows Khanithep

16 Pitupumnak (ethnomusicologist and collaborator/co-author for this article) and Woralun Boonyasurat, Dean of the Faculty of Fine Arts, Chiang Mai University Chiang Mai, Thailand.

About the Collaborator:

Khanithep Pitupumnak was born in 1982 at Khon Kaen province, Thailand. He received a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in Western Music from Khon Kaen University, Thailand. In 2006-2013 he graduated with a Master of Music degree in Ethnomusicology, after which he pursued a Doctoral degree in Music Education from Mahidol University, Thailand. He is a currently a lecturer at the Department of Music and Performing Arts, Faculty of Fine Arts, Chiang Mai University, Thailand. Pitupumnak is interested in fields of Ethnomusicology and Multi-Cultural Music Education.