Hmong

Arriving in the Northern Vietnamese mountain town Sapa I'm swarmed by women in traditional black leggings, cloth shirt dresses, brightly colored scarves wrapped around their heads and heavy silver hoops in their ears.  A girl of 23 who looked closer to 13 with a baby, her baby, swathed to her back pleasantly asked me "What's your name, where are from, are you married, do you have children?"  A run on list of rote questions.  The H'mong women are industrious and engage tourists for one purpose, to sell them hand woven belts, bags, and pillow covers stored in the baskets they wear like backpacks.  In town, they followed me through out the day, waiting as I shopped or dined and then went in for the sell, "Buy something from me, my friend. I like this, I made this, buy from me."  They even trekked with us offering a hand down the the muddy terrain, to the nearby village.  Unfortunately, their companionship came with an awkward price.  In the end, they expected us to buy their wares, and strutted away annoyed if we didn't.  The H'mong girls are encouraged to marry at fifteen, as soon as they've completed secondary school, and start having children soon after.  In conversation I learned their husbands tend to be farmers, harvesting crops for them to eat, not sell, or unemployed.  The women are often the breadwinners, dependent on the money earned from hassling tourists.  I was sympathetic, yet quickly grew weary of their tactics especially when "no, thank you" had no impact on their relentless badgering.  I found myself disengaging and wishing they wouldn't walk with me on the trails.  I turned my eyes away when they started to pull items out of their baskets.   I commend their desire to make money and support their families, but I wonder if there's a better way for them to sustain an income.