A Betel Nut Chewing Northern Thai Woman

I didn’t want to moma, to chew the betel nut. I have a distinct repulsion for it—the way it reddens your teeth, the possible gum damage, its carcinogenic capabilities…I knew that in moderation I had nothing to worry about, but still, I didn’t want to chew it. Somehow, I changed my mind.

A few days earlier, Adam had told me that it was good to chew betel nut every once in awhile to connect with the locals, which is important to me since I have to interview people.

“I didn’t want to at first,” he said, “but I was at a wedding once. I got kind of bored and someone offered me moma (the betel nut). I thought, ‘hey, why not?’ Before I started chewing I was standing all by myself, but soon I had a whole bunch of people around me, not saying much, just chewing and hanging out.”

Adam and Lola prepare the moma

After dinner one night, Lola offered us moma after dinner. Short for “wahana chimomam?” in Ifugao—have you some betel nuts?—moma used to be an Ifugao greeting, a way of asking how the other person was. Moma chewing combines at least three elements: moma, a piece of betel or Areca nut—the seed of the betel palm, hapid, tobacco leaves (optional), and apor, a white powder made from lime or crushed snail shells. These two or three items are usually wrapped in a betel palm leaf and chewed or sucked on for up to several hours.

Adam sprinkles apor on his betel nut

Chewing moma requires frequent spitting—as one writer, Stephen Fowler says, “you don’t just salivate, you pour.” In Ifugao, you’ll see the sidewalks covered with bright red splotches. When I first got here I thought it was blood; I wondered if maybe they butchered their chickens and let the blood drip on the streets. But after a few days I realized what it was. You have to be careful around here. I’ve been warned more than once to watch out for buses passing by; sometimes men sitting on top of a jeepney will spit off the side and hit a passerby, staining their shirt permanently. There are signs around some towns in the province: DO NOT SPIT MOMA HERE, but I haven’t seen those around Banaue.

But betel nut chewing isn’t only practiced here; it has a presence all over the world, especially in Asia and the Pacific. In Vietnam, moma is chewed ritually at weddings, and in Assam (northern India) it is offered to guests after tea, served on a brass plate with a stand called a bota. In Guam, Papua New Guinea, and the Solomon Islands, the sidewalks are all splashed with red.

Betel chewing Papua New Guinea tribal members. Notice what they call here the “natural lipstick.”

Photo by Theo Vermulen

Most commonly, whether you’re in Guam or Banaue, betel nut chewing is recognized as a means to extend friendship, to connect with others. Lola told me, “When you chew the moma you can make friends, and you can find out who your family is. As you are chewing you will talk about who you are and where you are from. Then you can find out that your new friend is actually your cousin, and you have met a new family member.”

As a new family member here, I figured I should at least try it. Adam told me that the apor is what potentially damages your gums, as well as the tobacco leaves. He suggested I just try sucking on the betel nut itself. “It’ll help you bond with Lola,” he encouraged. One night after dinner, we followed Lola up to the living room. Adam had a big grin on his face and we both held our hands out to receive the moma materials.

“No apor for me, Lola,” I said.

“No apor? Why? That is what makes it turn red,” she said, confused.

Exactly, I thought.

“But you will not feel the warmth,” Lola said. “I like it because it makes me feel warm when it is cold like tonight.”

“Okay, Lola,” I said. “You can just put a little bit.”

She tapped the apor, the white powder, onto the betel nut. Adam put a little more on his than I did; it was his first time with apor on his betel nut at all. We sat there for awhile, looking at each other, trying not to laugh. We smiled as the spit welled up in our mouths instantly, and both leaned over to spit in Lola’s plastic lined tin can.

Adam chewing the moma

Just when we got started, Adam got a text message. “Gotta go!” he said, “gotta Skype Eva.” He ran down the stairs to chat on the internet with his girlfriend and I suddenly felt alone and awkward.

“Hey!” I yelled out after him, “You can’t just leave!”

I looked back at Lola, and smiled awkwardly. The betel nut tasted bitter and I couldn’t stand the spit in my mouth. Lola sucked on it slowly, spitting every ten minutes, but because I chewed it fast, trying to make it go away, I had to spit every minute or so. Gradually, the spot where I held the betel nut in my mouth began to warm. All these fears rose inside me—would my teeth turn red? Would my gums decay? I spent over a thousand dollars on dental work before I left Colorado, all for this? Embracing a culture is one thing, but betel nut chewing? Do I need to go this far?

Though it has had a benign purpose for thousands of years, research recently labeled betel nut as a human carcinogen. In countries where betel nut is chewed, oral cancer forms 50% of the malignant cancers. Mixing betel nut with tobacco adds the known dangers of chewing tobacco as well—though betel nut by itself is carcinogenic on its own. It is also addictive, and children have begun chewing it at increasingly younger ages. Pakistan recently made a law that betel nut could not be sold to children under five.

Betel nut chewing boy in Papua New Guinea

Photo by George Hallit

It’s not so great for your teeth either. Though the locals here often say that chewing betel nut keeps your teeth healthy (betel nut was even put in some toothpastes for awhile)—the cavity ridden, stained mouths of betel nut chewers convince me otherwise.

There’s a stigma about it too. People from Manila look down on the Ifugao because of their moma habit—they think it’s disgusting and that it makes them tribal or animal-like somehow. While I don’t judge anyone here for chewing it, I admit that it grosses me out a bit, a look I’m sure Lola saw written all over my face as I chewed it with her that night.

“You like the moma?” she asked me.

I couldn’t lie. “No,” I said, “not really!”

She laughed. “Well,” she said, “at least you tried it. It is good to try.”

I gestured to the bucket to let Lola know I wanted to spit it out. She laughed and held it toward me. I spit in it, trying to not look at the contents inside. I left shortly afterward. I ran down to my bathroom, pulled out my floss and toothpaste, and brushed until my teeth were clean, until my spit was no longer red.

“I’m sorry,” I said to my mouth, as I inspected it in the mirror. “I hope I didn’t kill you.”

But I was glad I did it. Sometimes, as Lola said, it is good to try.

Stephen Fowler’s essay on betel nut chewing can be found at:
http://www.epistola.com/sfowler/scholar/scholar-betel.html

Theo Vermulen’s photo of the Thai woman was taken from this website:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/64808388@N00/347944558/

Photo of a Northern Thai woman found on this website:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/64808388@N00/347944558/