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Making "Klong Jars"
Water plays a vital part in the lives of all of us.
This is
even
more true of the
80
per cent of Thailand's popula-
tion
who live in the countryside, far from the cities and
towns.
They depend for their very livelihood on water —
for
irrigating crops, for transportation (Thailand's water-
ways
are far longer than its roads) as well as for personal
use
in cooking, drinking and washing.
Whole communities — entire villages — are located
on
the banks of rivers and alongside the vast network of
man-made
canals or 'klongs'. Other villages are set
in the
midst
of ricefields or other growing crops, and
the nearest
navigable
'klong may be some distance away. But
wher-
ever
they are situated, almost all rural Thai houses are
surrounded
by raised balconies or platforms on which
arc
several "klong jars" — perhaps ten or even
twenty of
them.
These large, plump earthenware water urns
remind
one of the jars in which Ali Baba's Forty Thieves
hid.
"Klong jar", incidentally, is a purely
English name
for
these vessels; in Thai they are called 'dtoom'
or 'oang'.
Apart from the southern peninsula, most of Thai-
land
usually swelters with temperatures in the
90's
and
100's
without any rainfall from February to May.
In
these
hot, dry months the water stored in the klong
jars is
often
the only source available. Every household keeps a
certain
number of klong jars filled with pure,
clean, rain-
water,
which is used only for drinking, while the remain-
ing
jars contain less pure water carried painstakingly
from
the nearest klong, and used for cooking
and
washing.
A
special type of red clay is needed to make klong
jars,
which obviously must be robust and strong enough
to
bear the weight of up to
80
gallons of water. (That's the
capacity
of the largest size, measuring about two feet
across
by three feet high; the usual capacity is smaller, the
most
popular size holding about
27
gallons.) The red
clay,
known as 'din niao', literally "sticky
earth," is found
at
its best only in
Ratchaburi
Province, some sixty miles
southwest
of Bangkok. So it's not surprising that in the
provincial
town of the same name, some
37
factories are
presently
making klong jars. A typical factory may
em-
ploy
fifty workers, including a few youngsters in their
early
teens, and produce about
150
finished jars a day.
In
earlier times the red earth was dug up, mixed with
water,
and left in a ditch for three days and nights, after
which
it was taken out and walked on — rather like
treading
grapes to make wine. The purpose was to detect
and
remove any hard lumps of so-called "dead earth".
Nowadays people no longer "tread" the earth. Instead,
the
hard lumps are sorted and removed by mechanical
means.
The
remaining "pure" earth is next kneaded, just
like
dough for making bread. It is now ready to be
molded
by the potter on his wheel, as is done the world
during
molding. The consistency of the moist clay must
be
just right; if it's too thick or too thin, it will crack.
Up
until about eight or ten years ago, the potter's
wheel
in some factories was turned by human power. A
slim
young girl, perhaps, both hands holding straps fixed
to
the ceiling like those in a subway car, and standing
with
one foot on the ground, would use the other foot in
rhythmic
movement to rotate the wheel. It was said that
because
of the weight of the wheel with its huge mass of
wet
clay, this method produced a steadier and more
powerful
rotation than an electric motor. Nowadays,
however,
this picturesque but tiring method is no longer
used,
and all potters' wheels in Ratchaburi are
power-
driven.
The
workers in at least one factory come mainly
from
northeast Thailand. The work is carried out in vast,
cool
sheds with bare, swept earth floors. Both men and
women
do the heavy work, though the potter at the
wheel
is usually a man.
Because of their large size, klong jars
are made in two
sections.
First the bottom half is shaped, and then left to
settle
for a while, after which it is dried in the sun; the top
half,
still wet, is then joined on.
When
the whole jar is dry, the designs are drawn on.
This
is sometimes done by the youngsters; with a thumb
dipped
in white clay, they make freehand designs of fire-
breathing
dragons at lightning speed, on jar after jar. At
the
same time, equally young colleagues slip the com-
pany's
name and trademark on, using stencils. The speed
with
which it's done almost takes one's breath away.
The
jars are then left for ten days before being fired
in
kilns to put the glaze on. Firing lasts for two days and
nights.
A special kind of wood known as 'benjaphan'
("of
five
kinds") is used to fuel the kilns to the high tempera-
ture
needed, but this cheap source of fuel is becoming
increasingly
scarce as Thailand's forests become more
and
more depleted.
The
finished klong jars are a shiny, rich
golden
brown,
with the designs in a lighter shade of the same
color.
The business is a thriving one, and a typical factory
owner
says he's able to give all his six children a good
education.
He has seven or eight trucks which deliver
and
sell klong jars to villagers all over
Thailand. A
27-gallon
jar of the best quality sells for
50
or
60
baht.
Nowadays, however, there's little demand for
klong jars
in
Bangkok where most houses have piped tap-water.
Another, newer source of competition is the use of
cement
for making klong jars, which is cheaper.
How-
ever,
the vast majority of Thailand's
37
million or so rural
folk
are traditionalists at heart, and they and their
children
in turn will probably continue to buy klong
jars
of
the tried and proved variety, made from the red earth
of
Ratchaburi.
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