I first met Bia, along with her niece and nephew, while teaching introductory photo lessons at a small nonprofit school in Pai, Mae Hong Son Province, Thailand.
Although unsure of her exact age, Bia was likely six at the time, and taught me all the edible plants and fruits on school property. During breaks, I would help her pick pak seaw (ผักเสี้ยว) leaves from the branches she couldn’t reach to take home for cooking.
Bia started inviting me to her home after school, where I would teach her and the other children in her family how to use my DSLR camera. The purpose of these visits was none other than play. When we weren’t searching for ripe mangos or tamarind, we were cooling off in the river, hunting for crabs in the rice paddies, or picking flowers to fashion into a crown. The video and photos below picture these visits, which span years.
So many of our visits were spent scanning the trees for bursts of bright yellow, forever in search of ripe mangoes. Bia often led the pack with a long stick of bamboo, ready to strike them down on sight. The rest of us waited with open hands.
During most of our visits, Bia and her niece Dao took my camera for a spin. I delighted in seeing the world through their eyes, and in the details that captured their attention.
The snapshot above as well as the ones below were taken by them and feature scenes captured around their home.
Before I left Pai for an extended period of time in 2014, I visited Bia and her family at their home in the valley to say goodbye. When I told Bia I was going to America, concern darkened her features.
“Can you speak English?” she asked. I said that I could.
“Why do you have to go back? Is your mom there?” I explained that yes, she was, and Bia nodded in understanding.
Since then I’ve been back many times. The most recent, in 2023, Bia and I talked about dating rather than mangoes. Instead of swimming in the river, or searching for crabs in the rice paddies, she showed me her cell phone and added me on Instagram.
Time continues on, as always.
Even still, in my mind, there is an image of young Bia’s face pointed towards the sky, brow furrowed, eyes squinting in the sunlight, searching for the ripest mango.
