Letters from Thailand 4

I wake up early in the morning with the songs of birds and the ugly voice of a rooster. Interestingly, the very same rooster started his serenade as early as 4 am in the morning so my sleep, no matter how tired I was, has been interrupted a few times. Despite the noise, I feel rested. The air is fresh and the weather is perfectly cloudy and dry. I wouldn’t want to wake up to a rainy morning only to see a wet ground or to a sunny day only to see no one walking around. I like cloudy rainless days. Although they are still hot and humid, they let me walk around comfortably without the worry of getting so much perspiration. A morning in an Isan village is probably same as a morning in any village somewhere else in the world. Children wearing purple uniforms go to school on bicycles, adults go to work or walk along with the herd of buffaloes, teachers/civil servants drive their cars to their schools/offices, chickens and ducks wander around the empty lands, stray dogs run on the streets to find friends or at least some shade for a good sleep, and those who have nothing to do just stand by the road and watch the flow of the auras before their eyes.

Isan, Northeast part of Thailand, is hardly known to the tourists who visit Thailand. Foreigners usually come to Thailand to see the cities like Bangkok, Phuket, Pattaya, Krabi, Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai etc or the islands like Koh Samet, Koh Chan, Koh Samui, Koh Pipi etc. Historical ruins can be found in Ayutthaya and Bangkok, pristine beaches are in Phuket and Kho Samet, bars and pubs offering all kinds of fun are in Bangkok and Pattaya, mountains and cultural tours are in Chiang Mai… There is nothing in Isan which can attract foreigners. This is why it is very hard to see non-Thai people in this region. Those who come here are mostly married to Thai nationals whose home towns are in Isan therefore it is an obligation for the spouse to visit in-laws time to time (I am also in this category). Other than a few dinosaur bones found near KK area, there is not much to see here anyway. Those dinosaur bones gave idea to the city developers to make huge statues of dinosaurs on the highway, at the main junctions and even in the children parks. I was quite surprised to see those huge carnivore animals at first time, looking over me when I drive car on the high way. But the impression does not stay long. I also went to the museum once and took a lot of pictures with the kids (nephews, nieces etc…). In the museum, there are only a few bones and all we need to do is to have faith to the paleontologists that these bones really belong to dinosaurs lived a few millions years ago.

It is true that there is not much to see in Isan but it is easy to see Isan people in big cities. Many move to Bangkok to find jobs at constructions, at big factories or at hotels. They are a major work force for the Thai economy. I am sure everyone who came to Thailand has tasted the guy yang, som tam and kao niyo which are sold almost in every soi in Bangkok. There are usually two types of work here: Government officer (teacher, civil servant, appointed doctor, dentist, veterinarian etc… or the farmer who mainly grows rice, corn, sugar cane, several kinds of fruits. One of  J’s uncles who usually grows sugar cane bought coffee trees from Kao Ko high lands to plant in his field but I don’t have much hope. Coffee trees need breeze, some cool misty weather. In Isan, those trees will get dry and die quickly unless you cover the plantation with certain materials and create an artificial environment for them. However, in that case the cost will be higher and the competition with nearby markets like Vietnam will be impossible. This reminds me a conversation between a Kurd and Turk politician. The Turkish one says to the other one: You see, there is no discrimination in Turkey. Kurds also can enter parliament. The Kurdish politician answers: Yes, only when they leave their Kurdishness behind and pretend to be a Turk. I am not sure if there is a similar discrimination in Thailand but the recent red t-shirt movement and the ongoing problems in the south tell me that there are people who are not truly represented in the parliament, or at least not represented in a right way.

 There are no big businesses in this region, no large factories to accommodate thousands of workers, no large hotels to employ maids, receptionists, cleaners. This is why those who cannot find a job at government offices will have two options: work at a rice farm or move to Bangkok to work at a factory/hotel/service industry etc… Although the tourists who visit Thailand hardly come to this part of the country, they see a lot of Isan people wherever they go. The woman who changes their bed sheet in hotel room is probably from Chaiyapum, the man who works at Toyota factory is probably from Udon, the girl who serves you beer at the bar is probably from Chumpae, the boy who waits as a cashier at the nearest 7-11 shop is probably from Khon Kaen and the smiling chubby woman who sells som tam with kao niyo at the corner is probably from Korat…

Isan is also the major farmland for Thailand as they grow almost all vegetables here. From this point, there is no wonder why the red t-shirt movement has a lot of supporters in this region. They are the ones who work the most but they are still the poorest. Many don’t have land and work at others’ land for a portion of the rice they grow. Those who work away from home can earn respect from society but the cost is leaving home behind and setting up a new life in which they speak Thai, not their native language. In here, people speak Isan, a language which is closer to Lao than to Thai. This is why J can speak Lao fluently with Laotians in Vien Tien. I know only a few words in Isan but since almost everyone here speaks Thai, I have no problem in communicating with people.

After having breakfast (coffee, bread and egg), I walk around the house, play with Tok Chai a bit, lay down on one of the deck chairs and read a few pages from Bora’s book. Both in-laws go to work so J and I stay at home for the entire day. In the evening, there will be a party for all uncles, aunts etc so we need to prepare a few things. I want to use internet but like everything, internet is painfully slow here. Just to get into the gmail’s inbox takes 15 minutes, reading each e-mail takes about 5 minutes. I don’t even dare to answer the e-mails. Things are slow so I have to adapt to the slowness otherwise I will be having trouble with myself. In fact, sometimes slowness has a lot to teach us, a lot to say. Keep moving slowly, you will be able to see a lot more than what you see when you move swiftly. Keep moving slowly and sometimes stop moving at all, enjoy the motionlessness of your body, enjoy the static dynamism (an oxymoron, isn’t it?) inside you… I gave up on the internet and postpone my internet work to the daily internet café visits. There is one in the district which is 4 km from the village so there is no need to have the stress over the slowness of the connection. With good planning, things can be arranged and the damage can be minimized.  

Life in the village is not only slow, it is also a multi-layered picture of the family history. They throw nothing away in the village so when you walk in the garden or in the house, you see things you have not seen in the cities for long long time. I saw a floppy disk and a fat computer screen next to the stairs. Neither of them are used but also neither of them are thrown away. In the dusty shelves, there are things –wedding cards, toys, medicines, old pictures, car advertisements, tea bags, some old primary school textbooks, matchboxes, powder containers, rusty pins, batteries, combs, coins, hats, broken hammers, blind saws, non-functioning measures, expired well-being products, chess pieces, gecko shit, pillow cases etc – which are totally useless. If we throw them now, nothing will be missing except for the mystical aura of the house. Layer after layer, things are kept as if they had been put there yesterday. People in the village have the habit of keeping everything and throwing nothing because they have seen the bad days, the days of deprivation of food and other necessary things, the days of poverty and hunger. We, the new generation cannot comprehend this as in our time, things are found abundantly. We throw easily because we can replace easily.

After the breakfast, I walk in the garden to see the fruits in the trees. I could spot guava, custard apple, coconut, lamyay (what is it in English?), tomatoes and bananas. There are also a few dragon fruit plants but there are no fruits yet. Around lunch time, I get back to the house to take shower and get ready to go to town. Right before climbing the stairs, I see the little mouse trapped in the cage –who put it there?-, next to the TV console. The little animal with black popping eyes, with a shaking body as if it is wet in the rain, with a short furless tail curved under its legs but protruded near its feet, is staring at me with a demanding message. The mouse is probably one of the many who are responsible of gnawing some pages of my books. I have almost 1,000 books in this house and I consider them as my treasure in Thailand. Most of the books are in English and I bought them in Thailand or in Vietnam. Some I brought from Turkey. Almost all books are in the literature category although a few of them can be put in science fiction, history, memoirs, math/physics textbooks,… Since they eat my books, it should be my privilege to kill this little animal and feel better after the inevitable act of revenge.

I asked J what they plan to do with the mouse. She says “My father takes them outside the village and releases them to empty fields.” I nod with an understanding fashion and see how my father-in-law could be so weak in front of these little monsters. I joke “Why don’t you release them to a house of a neighbor whom you dislike?” Not aware of his/her future freedom or the funny conversation about him/her, the mouse keeps his/her eyes on me, asking for mercy or planning for revenge. When I get close to the cage, s/he attacks, first showing teeth and making some scary sounds and then jumping towards me only to hit the metal wall of the cage.

In the afternoon, we spend some time in the town, at the internet café and at a nearby restaurant to buy food. When we come home in the evening, I sleep in the living room –using the opportunity of no roosters and Tok Chai is still at school-  for a few hours. I woke up with the noise of the preparations for the party. I go to the bedroom to get my camera and my notebook so that I can be the official record-keeper of the event. A party in the village means several things to me:

1. I can take photos of their faces, their gestures only to decipher them later. Photographs are very rich sources for short stories.
2. I can take notes about the people’s behaviors, their reactions to certain things, their laughter and their way of sitting/standing/eating etc...
3. Unfortunately, they speak Isan with each other so I cannot understand anything but if I get involved in conversations, they gently turn to speak in Thai. Therefore, I can get involved in the conversations and perhaps learn a few new things.

The food comes from another town. It is a noodle soup with beef/pork and vegetables. They heat up some other food, bring rambutans, guavas, pepsi and beer and prepare some very spicy sauce. It is a simple food for people who live simple lives. One bowl of food and then drinks, desserts and fruits are all we have. In western standards, this is not even called a party, maybe a family reunion or simply a family gathering. Uncles and aunts come one by one, everybody brings something, a bag of fruit, some drinks or vegetables, desserts. Once they come, they also start helping the hosts for the preparation of dishes. When the oldest uncle arrives, the serving starts. It seems everybody is hungry so eating commences quickly. I sat at one corner of the mat and eat slowly, without putting much spicy color to my noodle soup. People are chatting and eating at the same time. I am listening to their conversations like I am listening to rumbles coming from a happy machine. They speak Isan and I enjoy listening to their local language.

At some point during the dinner, I found a little worm in my food. Taking it out from the soup, although I try not to show it to anyone, one of the aunts sees it and tells me in Thai “Don’t worry! It is only a worm. This means the vegetables do not have any chemicals in them. Healthier than the vegetables you can buy from the supermarket in Bangkok.” Hearing this, I laugh and continue eating, only not knowing whether I should feel lucky to find an entire worm in my soup. It would have been worse –or healthier according to J’s wise aunt- if I found a half worm, wouldn’t it?