“Switch feet,” Bradit directs, pointing to my right leg. “Now, fly the shuttle between the threads.” Awkwardly, I maneuver what looks like a wooden toy boat sailing over a river of yellow silk threads. Bradit claps her hands approvingly and laughs. I reach for the reed and “bang up” the weft thread I have just woven.
After a few more rounds, I let Gabriel have his try. “It’s harder than it looks, isn’t it?” I tease, and he agrees. We survey our handiwork. The spot where Bradit’s weaving leaves off and ours begins is plain to see. She laughs again, enjoying the process as much as we are. The natural body-scrubbing cloth on the loom will not be harmed by our contribution.
The cloth on the loom situated in the open part of the house, however, is reserved for Bradit alone. As we approach it, our violin student, Jom, runs up to get a closer look. His mother Ni quickly instructs him not to touch it. Ni has been looking forward to bringing us to her village (about an hour from Khon Kaen) so we can see the silk-making process. She has already told us how Bradit raises the silk worms and hand-spins the threads from the cocoons onto spools and how she uses natural dyes made from various tree barks and roots to color and pattern her threads. Bradit tells us that the patterned thread is then spun on to a series of spools that are kept in order by attaching them to a cord which is then placed in a basket. “If a child were to run through and grab a spool to play with and then lose it, the whole pattern would be destroyed,” she explains. Considering that a piece of silk for a traditional outfit can take up to a year to weave, this would be disastrous indeed!
We are silent for a moment, marveling. It is no wonder that Bradit has a table full of awards, including one from the Queen of Thailand. Bradit sits down and talks about the piece in process. The lines are straight, and the weft thread has been unwound and woven through the weft at just the right place, with just the right amount of tension. She points out what makes this pattern unique to her province and shows where a faint, curvy orange line is being woven in, up to a place where it will expand and become the head of the payanak, a mythical serpent that locals believe blows out fire balls at an event once a year on the nearby Mekong river (see Kyle Tumberg’s article on p. 15).
Bradit weaves for a living, but she also apprentices anyone who wants to learn for free, even providing room and board at no charge. She wants to pass on the art that has been given to her. We talk about the time investment involved and how this kind of work is done thread by thread, with patience and care, from the heart. Our teammate, Daniëlle K., is with us, and she, Ricardo and I look at each other knowingly.
Suddenly, it is not a piece of fabric we are studying. I look at Jom’s parents who have invested much in our relationship, I think of the people who are studying the Bible, who are coming to small groups and to our Sabbath worships. I think about how God is weaving our team together into a Christian community; an inviting place to experience Jesus. With gratitude, I think of all the different people whose lives are being woven together with ours by the Master Weaver who knows the pattern by heart and will ensure that it will be perfect upon completion. And I think gratefully about you. You who read this magazine, who care about the needs here and who, by your prayers and support, are being woven in along with us. Thank you!
