Last week, I read the news that the Bangkok police have begun using "Hello Kitty" armbands as a punishment. Specifically, officers who break rules of various sorts will be required to wear the armbands as a form of humiliation. You can read the article here.
I wasn't entirely sure what to make of this news. It surprised me a bit, as Thai culture generally is not in favor of humiliation or shame. "Losing face" by having your wrongs pointed out to you -- public or not -- is avoided. I don't remember ever having seen one Thai person trying to embarrass another, beyond your typical schoolchildren teasing about who "liked" who.
Then again, life in Thailand can be a little bizarre... in many situations.
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Personal Feature: The Family Next Door
I've written several times about our neighbors. We were surrounded by many good folks who looked after us during floods, storms, illness, and household maintainance. Some were very loud, true, but for the most part we enjoyed our living situation. The family next door was very important to us throughout our time in Thailand, so I'll write about them today.Who lived there, just a few feet south of our windows? The list included Ann (red sweater, in photo), her husband Rat, their son Nong Dae, Ann's mother Moon (flowered shirt), her father Som, her nephew Lek, and her older brother Boon. That list varied from time to time, because Rat is in the military and was often off at his post, and Ann sometimes went to join him for a month or two.
Ann was just a year younger than me. She came over to introduce herself on the day we moved in, and was pleased that we would be neighbors. At that time she worked a low-level job at the school district office. Nong Dae was not quite a year old, and he stayed home with his grandmother during the days. But when he started walking and became too much work for his grandmother to handle, Ann quit her job and had to find new ways of making money. During the course of our two years in town, she tried many different projects: making crepes to sell on the street and at local events, taking in laundry, making roasted corn and eggrolls to sell in the town where her husband was posted, raising fish, signing up with Amway to sell household products and cosmetics to the women in town... (It's true, I became an Amway member while I was living in Thailand as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I bought the detergent.) She never seemed to be able to break even, though, and was often stressed about money and how to care for her family. When we left, she was about to start a bread-baking business. We sold her our oven for a very low price, and I tried to find some recipes on the internet that could be modified for Thai ingredients.
Rat was originally from northeastern Thailand. He was one of the nicest Thai men we ever met. He didn't drink alcohol and was quite devoted to his family. He and Ann met in Bangkok and were married several years ago. He was usually gone for 2-3 weeks at a time, and when
he came home he would do all sorts of household projects -- building fences, stairways, and other quality-of-life remodels. He worked hard and didn't get much rest.
We had many happy times with Ann & Rat. Our first Songkran in Thailand, they took us to the parade in town, and guided us home when the drunken teenagers got too rough. Our first New Years, they invited us over for a beer at midnight. We helped celebrate Nong Dae's second birthday, and watched him grow from a crawling baby into an active three-year-old with a strong personality.
This past New Years, we traveled with several Peace Corps friends to Pai, a town in Mae Hong Sorn province that is popular with tourists. It also happens to be where Rat is stationed, as it's near the border with Burma. Ann, Nong Dae, and Mae Moon were living with him at the time, so we were able to all meet for a day and do some touring together. The photo was taken at a park nearby.
There isn't much about life in Thailand that I miss, but I do think often about the people that we knew there. I wonder how they are doing, if Ann has managed to make any money, if Nong Dae has gotten bigger, if there is a threat of flooding this year.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
No Chopsticks with Rice!
We returned to the United States in mid-April, and it was seven weeks before we ate Thai food. Astonishing!
But before we left Washington last week, Robert's parents took us to a "northern" Thai restaurant in Everett. It wasn't very "northern" at all, but the food was still quite good. It made me feel excited about eating Thai food again!
At one point, I looked around the restaurant and noticed that nearly all of the other diners were eating their food with chopsticks. This both surprised and amused me. Here is the truth:
In Thailand, people do not eat rice with chopsticks!!! They eat it with their hands (if it's sticky rice), or with spoons (if it's regular white rice). NO CHOPSTICKS. Chopsticks are used only for noodle dishes -- primarily soups -- and Chinese food. Not with Thai rice dishes. If you used chopsticks to eat rice in Thailand, people would think you were very strange. (As proof, I have provided a photo of a meal in a Thai home, at which we are clearly not using chopsticks.)
To be fair, when our food was brought to the table, the waiter offered us chopsticks. I imagine this was done because so many diners ask for them. Also, our place settings originally included just knives and forks. Thai people don't use knives at the table, and they don't put forks in their mouths -- only spoons. We had to ask for spoons at the restaurant. I would not have been comfortable eating Thai dishes with a fork after living in Thailand for two years!
Also, to be fair, I think that I myself used to use chopsticks when I went to Thai restaurants, because I thought that was how it was supposed to be done, and I thought it was cool. But now I know.
Friday, May 18, 2007
McDonalds
Before I joined the Peace Corps, I lived in a great neighborhood in St. Paul, Minnesota. Within walking distance from my house I could find Thai, Nepalese, Vietnamese, Afghani, and Italian restaurants. If I hopped on a bus, I could reach Greek, Mexican, Kurdish, Cuban, and many more. I enjoyed being able to eat food from all over the world. I also enjoyed living in a city with a large immigrant population. I thought this spoke well of Minnesota – that motivated people could come from other countries and build themselves a new life there. And of course, those immigrants had no trouble finding food from their own countries, even there in St. Paul.
The term “globalization” is thrown around a lot these days, often in a negative way. Many people blame “globalization” for job losses in America, because American corporations often hire workers overseas to save money. Other people worry that “globalization” results in a loss of local culture, because more and more people adopt a common lifestyle or consume the same products.
When I taught social studies in Minnesota, I tended to side with these arguments. Living in Thailand and witnessing some of the other effects of “globalization,” however, changed my understanding of the term and its real-life meaning.
While I in no way would want a local culture to lose touch with the elements and traditions that make it unique, I think there’s also something to be said for the spread of positive behaviors and traits from one culture to another. For example, the idea that women have rights and should be educated has a very visible and, in my opinion, positive effect on life in Thailand. I knew many strong, smart women there who benefitted from this relatively new development, and I thought about it often when observing my female students.
The fast food industry is often held up as an example of the less positive effects of globalization. Both in American neighborhoods and in other societies around the world, fast food restaurants are a symbol of a rather sterile, homogenized environment, in which individuality and variety are replaced by standardization and sameness. I don’t frequent fast food restaurants in the United States, primarily because I don’t eat meat and I prefer healthier options (though I’ve recently discovered that Burger King makes a fine veggie burger, good for a quick meal during an airport layover). There are times, though, when there’s something to be said for being able to walk into a place and knowing what to expect. I’ve been known to choose Pizza Hut after a long day of driving rather then venturing into an unfamiliar neighborhood in search of vegetarian food.
I wasn’t sure what to think when I discovered that Thailand, particularly in the cities, has no shortage of American fast food. KFC and Dairy Queen are easy to find in almost any province, and select areas have plenty of Starbucks, McDonalds, and Sizzler to choose from. Did this mean that American culture was “invading” Thailand and displacing the locals? Were the Thais who ate at such places being “forced” to do so as a result of local economics, or were they doing it by choice?
Thomas Friedman writes in The Lexus and the Olive Tree that globalization involves both “push” and “pull.” He describes a Taco Bell in Qatar as being appealing to locals on account of its “clean bathroom, international sanitation standards, smiling service and quality controls – all at a cheap price they could afford.” Kentucky Fried Chicken in Malaysia was popular because it symbolized “modernity.” While McDonalds in Thailand was certainly more expensive than a typical bowl of noodles on the street, it was also cheaper than many of the full-service sit-down Thai restaurants I visited with co-workers during my two years. And it was, most of the time, cleaner. Local people around the world have their own reasons for choosing American fast food, and who is to say their reasons aren’t valid?
I consider myself a world traveler, and certainly a USA traveler. I’ve been lucky enough to visit lots of different places and cultures. I know I won’t have the chance to go everywhere, though. I’ll probably never get the opportunity to see Ethiopia, for example. Does that mean I should never have a chance to experience Ethiopian culture, on any level? I don’t think so... and fortunately for me, there’s a few Ethiopian restaurants right here in Seattle to choose from. Friedman quotes a Malaysian describing attitudes in her country: “‘Elites here say, ‘You should not have McDonalds,’ but for the little people, who don’t get to travel to America, they have America come to them.’” Perhaps its overly elitist for any of us to say that those “little people” shouldn’t have that opportunity if they want it.
When we were visiting Malaysia, one of our last nights in a quiet beach town we chatted with a family from Sweden. The parents talked about how Indonesian beach resorts had been “ruined” by the arrival of tourist-oriented business, including fast food, and how they expected Malaysia to go down the same path before too long. I agree that serious efforts should be made to keep beautiful natural places from being spoiled by uncontrolled development. At the same time, those of us who are wealthy enough to go on vacation at beach resorts ought to recognize that other people have the right to improve their own economic situations, and perhaps they see starting a McDonalds franchise as their best opportunity for doing so. Do we deny them that opportunity? Friedman writes, “[Fast food franchises] proliferate because they offer people something they want, and to tell people in developing countries they can’t have it because it would spoil the view and experience of people visiting from developed countries would be both insufferably arrogant and futile.”
The term “globalization” is thrown around a lot these days, often in a negative way. Many people blame “globalization” for job losses in America, because American corporations often hire workers overseas to save money. Other people worry that “globalization” results in a loss of local culture, because more and more people adopt a common lifestyle or consume the same products.
When I taught social studies in Minnesota, I tended to side with these arguments. Living in Thailand and witnessing some of the other effects of “globalization,” however, changed my understanding of the term and its real-life meaning.
While I in no way would want a local culture to lose touch with the elements and traditions that make it unique, I think there’s also something to be said for the spread of positive behaviors and traits from one culture to another. For example, the idea that women have rights and should be educated has a very visible and, in my opinion, positive effect on life in Thailand. I knew many strong, smart women there who benefitted from this relatively new development, and I thought about it often when observing my female students.
The fast food industry is often held up as an example of the less positive effects of globalization. Both in American neighborhoods and in other societies around the world, fast food restaurants are a symbol of a rather sterile, homogenized environment, in which individuality and variety are replaced by standardization and sameness. I don’t frequent fast food restaurants in the United States, primarily because I don’t eat meat and I prefer healthier options (though I’ve recently discovered that Burger King makes a fine veggie burger, good for a quick meal during an airport layover). There are times, though, when there’s something to be said for being able to walk into a place and knowing what to expect. I’ve been known to choose Pizza Hut after a long day of driving rather then venturing into an unfamiliar neighborhood in search of vegetarian food.
I wasn’t sure what to think when I discovered that Thailand, particularly in the cities, has no shortage of American fast food. KFC and Dairy Queen are easy to find in almost any province, and select areas have plenty of Starbucks, McDonalds, and Sizzler to choose from. Did this mean that American culture was “invading” Thailand and displacing the locals? Were the Thais who ate at such places being “forced” to do so as a result of local economics, or were they doing it by choice?
Thomas Friedman writes in The Lexus and the Olive Tree that globalization involves both “push” and “pull.” He describes a Taco Bell in Qatar as being appealing to locals on account of its “clean bathroom, international sanitation standards, smiling service and quality controls – all at a cheap price they could afford.” Kentucky Fried Chicken in Malaysia was popular because it symbolized “modernity.” While McDonalds in Thailand was certainly more expensive than a typical bowl of noodles on the street, it was also cheaper than many of the full-service sit-down Thai restaurants I visited with co-workers during my two years. And it was, most of the time, cleaner. Local people around the world have their own reasons for choosing American fast food, and who is to say their reasons aren’t valid?
I consider myself a world traveler, and certainly a USA traveler. I’ve been lucky enough to visit lots of different places and cultures. I know I won’t have the chance to go everywhere, though. I’ll probably never get the opportunity to see Ethiopia, for example. Does that mean I should never have a chance to experience Ethiopian culture, on any level? I don’t think so... and fortunately for me, there’s a few Ethiopian restaurants right here in Seattle to choose from. Friedman quotes a Malaysian describing attitudes in her country: “‘Elites here say, ‘You should not have McDonalds,’ but for the little people, who don’t get to travel to America, they have America come to them.’” Perhaps its overly elitist for any of us to say that those “little people” shouldn’t have that opportunity if they want it.
When we were visiting Malaysia, one of our last nights in a quiet beach town we chatted with a family from Sweden. The parents talked about how Indonesian beach resorts had been “ruined” by the arrival of tourist-oriented business, including fast food, and how they expected Malaysia to go down the same path before too long. I agree that serious efforts should be made to keep beautiful natural places from being spoiled by uncontrolled development. At the same time, those of us who are wealthy enough to go on vacation at beach resorts ought to recognize that other people have the right to improve their own economic situations, and perhaps they see starting a McDonalds franchise as their best opportunity for doing so. Do we deny them that opportunity? Friedman writes, “[Fast food franchises] proliferate because they offer people something they want, and to tell people in developing countries they can’t have it because it would spoil the view and experience of people visiting from developed countries would be both insufferably arrogant and futile.”
In summary: globalization is maybe not all bad.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Reflections on Buddhism and Peace Corps
Today Robert and I attended a discussion of The Tibetan Book of the Dead (TBD) at my father’s church. I don’t know much about Tibetan Buddhism, but I did live surrounded by Thai Buddhism for two years, so it was interesting to share perspectives and make comparisons.
In a nutshell: The TBD was probably first created around the 7th or 8th century AD. According to the introduction in our translation, it is read to a dying person as they are making their exit from this world. The book describes the challenges they will face as they transition towards either nirvana or reincarnation, and attempts to help guide the person towards a meditation on nothingness, or enlightenment. (Forgive any glaring errors in my summary; as I said I am no export!) It is clear from the text that enlightenment is the preferred outcome, but also that it is very difficult to attain, and made even more so by the karma that the person has earned during their life.
Robert and I had many discussions about our experience with Buddhism while we were in Thailand, especially in comparison with our own background and experience as Christians. What most stood out to us, consistently, was the Thai Buddhist preoccupation with making merit by giving to the temple in order to store up a good account for the next reincarnation, or afterlife, in contrast with our modern Catholic/Episcopal traditions of social justice here on earth to make life better for other humans, with faith that we’ll be in heaven after this life.
In other words, the Thais that we met were concerned not with the plight of fellow humans, but with their own next life, which was unrelated. In fact, Buddhism says that to ignore worldly concerns is the way to attain enlightenment. We, as Christians, have faith that we don’t need to worry about life after death – that’s already been taken care of, more or less, by the resurrection of Jesus – and we are encouraged to go out and do good works in the meantime. Although many Americans are not Christian, I nonetheless think that the constant desire and motivation for personal and societal improvement that is part of Christianity is also part of modern American culture.
I think that this opposite worldview, as evidenced by a comparison of religious traditions, had a direct impact on our Peace Corps experience. Robert and I were motivated – by a variety of factors – to want to do the best that we could for our students, most of whom we saw as the less privileged members of society in terms of their poverty and lack of opportunity. We saw improved education, health awareness, and access to advanced skill development as the best ways of helping our students. Our Thai counterparts, on the other hand, did not show much interest in these issues. In their worldview, the students were born into their current status, and a focus on change or improvement was an unnecessary distraction. This is not to say that they didn’t want to help the students at all; I knew many of good teachers who wanted their students to be able to read, write, do math, and brush their teeth properly, out of a genuine concern for the students’ well-being. But if the goal changed from maintenance to improvement, most of the Thai educators we knew lost interest.
Disclaimer: This blog entry is not intended to be a criticism of Buddhism. It is merely a reflection on how religion might influence one’s worldview and desire for improvement.
In a nutshell: The TBD was probably first created around the 7th or 8th century AD. According to the introduction in our translation, it is read to a dying person as they are making their exit from this world. The book describes the challenges they will face as they transition towards either nirvana or reincarnation, and attempts to help guide the person towards a meditation on nothingness, or enlightenment. (Forgive any glaring errors in my summary; as I said I am no export!) It is clear from the text that enlightenment is the preferred outcome, but also that it is very difficult to attain, and made even more so by the karma that the person has earned during their life.
Robert and I had many discussions about our experience with Buddhism while we were in Thailand, especially in comparison with our own background and experience as Christians. What most stood out to us, consistently, was the Thai Buddhist preoccupation with making merit by giving to the temple in order to store up a good account for the next reincarnation, or afterlife, in contrast with our modern Catholic/Episcopal traditions of social justice here on earth to make life better for other humans, with faith that we’ll be in heaven after this life.
In other words, the Thais that we met were concerned not with the plight of fellow humans, but with their own next life, which was unrelated. In fact, Buddhism says that to ignore worldly concerns is the way to attain enlightenment. We, as Christians, have faith that we don’t need to worry about life after death – that’s already been taken care of, more or less, by the resurrection of Jesus – and we are encouraged to go out and do good works in the meantime. Although many Americans are not Christian, I nonetheless think that the constant desire and motivation for personal and societal improvement that is part of Christianity is also part of modern American culture.
I think that this opposite worldview, as evidenced by a comparison of religious traditions, had a direct impact on our Peace Corps experience. Robert and I were motivated – by a variety of factors – to want to do the best that we could for our students, most of whom we saw as the less privileged members of society in terms of their poverty and lack of opportunity. We saw improved education, health awareness, and access to advanced skill development as the best ways of helping our students. Our Thai counterparts, on the other hand, did not show much interest in these issues. In their worldview, the students were born into their current status, and a focus on change or improvement was an unnecessary distraction. This is not to say that they didn’t want to help the students at all; I knew many of good teachers who wanted their students to be able to read, write, do math, and brush their teeth properly, out of a genuine concern for the students’ well-being. But if the goal changed from maintenance to improvement, most of the Thai educators we knew lost interest.
Disclaimer: This blog entry is not intended to be a criticism of Buddhism. It is merely a reflection on how religion might influence one’s worldview and desire for improvement.
Friday, April 27, 2007
A Return to Civility?
I recognize that I live in a pretty nice part of America. Minnesota is a great state, and my neighborhood is just about the best. All the same, during my first 12 days home, I’ve been continually surprised by the politeness and civility of the people I encounter.
Since we haven’t yet purchased a car, we’ve spent a lot of time walking around on various errands and family visits. There have been exactly two times that, while walking, I have had someone shout something at me. The first was last week, when walking with a friend and her 2-year-old. A car of young-ish appearing males drove by and shouted something I’ve now forgotten. The second was a few evenings ago, when I was out walking for exercise. Another car of young-ish men drove by and shouted something that I think was, “Run faster!”
In my pre-Thailand days, both these experiences would probably have bothered me a lot. “Why are they shouting at me?” I’d have thought. “What did I ever do to them?”
Post-Thailand, however, all I could think of each time it happened was, “Wow, that’s the first time someone has shouted at me in America!” and “Wow, that’s only the second time someone has shouted at me in America!” Living in Thailand, I had just gotten used to being stared at, shouted at, and pointed at all the time. Sometimes it was benign or even friendly, and sometimes it was most definitely not. It was just something that all of us Peace Corps Volunteers learned to live with, eventually, though I can’t say I knew anyone who liked it.
The other thing that has amazed me nearly every day since our return home is the way that people stop for us when we are crossing the street. We have a pretty good crosswalk law here, and a few years ago there was a lot of publicity about how cars that didn’t stop for pedestrians risked getting ticketed for it. I guess it worked, because I keep stopping at corners and intersections, waiting for cars to go by, and they keep stopping for me. It’s a little unsettling, but in a good way. I don’t think I ever had a vehicle stop for me in Thailand. Most of the time, I was on high alert, trying to make sure I didn’t get bowled over by a flying motorcycle, noodle stand, or pickup truck. Even in our little town, traffic could be pretty scary.
People talk all the time about the rude manners of Americans, but I’m giving high marks this week for the USA being pedestrian-friendly!
By the way, don't forget to check out my blog about our Cambodia-Malaysia travels at Kate's Travel Blog!
Since we haven’t yet purchased a car, we’ve spent a lot of time walking around on various errands and family visits. There have been exactly two times that, while walking, I have had someone shout something at me. The first was last week, when walking with a friend and her 2-year-old. A car of young-ish appearing males drove by and shouted something I’ve now forgotten. The second was a few evenings ago, when I was out walking for exercise. Another car of young-ish men drove by and shouted something that I think was, “Run faster!”
In my pre-Thailand days, both these experiences would probably have bothered me a lot. “Why are they shouting at me?” I’d have thought. “What did I ever do to them?”
Post-Thailand, however, all I could think of each time it happened was, “Wow, that’s the first time someone has shouted at me in America!” and “Wow, that’s only the second time someone has shouted at me in America!” Living in Thailand, I had just gotten used to being stared at, shouted at, and pointed at all the time. Sometimes it was benign or even friendly, and sometimes it was most definitely not. It was just something that all of us Peace Corps Volunteers learned to live with, eventually, though I can’t say I knew anyone who liked it.
The other thing that has amazed me nearly every day since our return home is the way that people stop for us when we are crossing the street. We have a pretty good crosswalk law here, and a few years ago there was a lot of publicity about how cars that didn’t stop for pedestrians risked getting ticketed for it. I guess it worked, because I keep stopping at corners and intersections, waiting for cars to go by, and they keep stopping for me. It’s a little unsettling, but in a good way. I don’t think I ever had a vehicle stop for me in Thailand. Most of the time, I was on high alert, trying to make sure I didn’t get bowled over by a flying motorcycle, noodle stand, or pickup truck. Even in our little town, traffic could be pretty scary.
People talk all the time about the rude manners of Americans, but I’m giving high marks this week for the USA being pedestrian-friendly!
By the way, don't forget to check out my blog about our Cambodia-Malaysia travels at Kate's Travel Blog!
Monday, April 23, 2007
What's Inside...
Way, way back, during our Peace Corps training, one of our Thai training directors commented on the sad state of Thai education. “I see schools spending huge sums of money to have a beautiful sign made,” he said. “But when you go inside the school, there’s no teaching going on. I think this is what needs to change in Thailand.” We were still idealistic at that point, and didn’t know how hard it was going to be to promote “student-centered learning” in Thailand. But the comment stuck with us, and two years later in Minnesota, I’m still thinking about it.
Much of Thai society operates this way. A gleaming structure is beautiful to look at but has nothing of substance inside. A student from a school wins numerous awards, bringing honor to the school, but none of the other kids in his class can read. A shiny new airport is built at the cost of billions of dollars, but the runway is on top of a swamp and starts to sink. A ceremony is held for a new library, but there’s no books inside that kids actually want to read. Where is the thought? Where is the deliberation? Where is the meaning? Where is the real benefit?
This photo shows me sitting with three neighborhood kids outside the local elementary school in our training village. From the sign, and perhaps even from the nice plants behind it, you’d think that this school is a well-run, attractive spot, probably with some good education happening inside. In reality, class sizes were in the 40s and kids had few materials. Teachers often didn’t show up for class. And this was one of the better-run public schools that we saw in Thailand.
It’s often said about Thailand that the people there value social harmony and evenness. They don’t like having debate, disagreement, or anything that isn’t “beautiful.” (“Beautiful” was one of the words we heard most often in Thailand, right after “delicious.”) While this has its benefits, it also has some drastic consequences, because circumstances or situations that should be challenged are not. Airports are built on swamps, and teachers go shopping instead of teaching.
I’m now reading The Lexus and the Olive Tree by Thomas Friedman, a book published in 2000 about globalization. My understanding of globalization is vastly different after two years in Thailand than it was before I went, and I’ll probably have several blogs on this topic. I chose to write about the school signs today, though, because of a particular quote in the book. While discussing the Southeast Asian economic crash of the late 1990s, he writes, “[The SE Asian countries] had replicated the outward configurations of the Western financial systems, but in many cases in was replication by rote. There was something missing inside.” In other words, while Thailand and other countries had appeared to transition to a free-market economy, in actuality there was no substance behind the change, and the transition failed. The fancy sign was on display, but no teaching was going on.
Much of Thai society operates this way. A gleaming structure is beautiful to look at but has nothing of substance inside. A student from a school wins numerous awards, bringing honor to the school, but none of the other kids in his class can read. A shiny new airport is built at the cost of billions of dollars, but the runway is on top of a swamp and starts to sink. A ceremony is held for a new library, but there’s no books inside that kids actually want to read. Where is the thought? Where is the deliberation? Where is the meaning? Where is the real benefit?
This photo shows me sitting with three neighborhood kids outside the local elementary school in our training village. From the sign, and perhaps even from the nice plants behind it, you’d think that this school is a well-run, attractive spot, probably with some good education happening inside. In reality, class sizes were in the 40s and kids had few materials. Teachers often didn’t show up for class. And this was one of the better-run public schools that we saw in Thailand.
It’s often said about Thailand that the people there value social harmony and evenness. They don’t like having debate, disagreement, or anything that isn’t “beautiful.” (“Beautiful” was one of the words we heard most often in Thailand, right after “delicious.”) While this has its benefits, it also has some drastic consequences, because circumstances or situations that should be challenged are not. Airports are built on swamps, and teachers go shopping instead of teaching.
I’m now reading The Lexus and the Olive Tree by Thomas Friedman, a book published in 2000 about globalization. My understanding of globalization is vastly different after two years in Thailand than it was before I went, and I’ll probably have several blogs on this topic. I chose to write about the school signs today, though, because of a particular quote in the book. While discussing the Southeast Asian economic crash of the late 1990s, he writes, “[The SE Asian countries] had replicated the outward configurations of the Western financial systems, but in many cases in was replication by rote. There was something missing inside.” In other words, while Thailand and other countries had appeared to transition to a free-market economy, in actuality there was no substance behind the change, and the transition failed. The fancy sign was on display, but no teaching was going on.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Chinatown
On Sunday, we visited Bangkok's Chinatown with our old Thai language instructor, Pi Lin, from Peace Corps training. Her family is Chinese and lives near Chinatown, so she was able to show us around and explain everything. It was my first time touring a Chinatown, and very fascinating.
We visited two major temples, and we learned that Chinese Buddhism has some differences from Thai Buddhism. For example, Thai Buddhism has just one "Buddha" god, but Chinese Buddhism has many, of which some have female attributes.
The second wat we visited was extremely smoky because so many people were burning large handfuls of incense sticks as they walked around. It made our eyes tear up!
Pi Lin also walked us through several lanes of market stalls. Since it was probably over 100 degrees F yesterday, this was very hot, but at least they were mostly shaded. It was cool to see the different kinds of food -- fish stomachs, large ocean worms, dozens of varieties of teas and mushrooms -- and multi-lingual signs. I recommend Chinatown to anyone who wants a new southeast Asian experience!
Friday, March 23, 2007
Airport Farewell
We left our site for the final time yesterday morning, in style and with an escort. For two years, we've traveled to Bangkok by riding a songtaew or bus into the capital of Lampang province, then boarded another bus or train for an 8-12 hour ride. For our last trip out, we were driven to the city in an air-conditioned van, and taken to the airport instead of the bus or train station (thanks mom!).
Our landlord, Robert's principal, had arranged for a large group of teachers to see us off. I think about twenty people in all, including Ajaan Warangkana and Pi Noy, were there. We were presented with jasmine wreaths and necklaces (14 total) and stood for dozens of photos. Since we arrived at the airport a full two hours before the flight, there was plenty of time for chatting and saying goodbye to those who had joined us.
When our boarding was finally called, and we walked through the door to the security screener, it was a little difficult to wave goodbye for the last time.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Bittersweet
If I were to do my Peace Corps Thailand service over again, and I could design my own project, I would be not an English teacher but a public health worker. I would be based not at schools, but at the local hospital. And much as I have loved and enjoyed my two co-teachers over these past two years, my counterparts would be the women in this picture, nurses in our town.
Last night this group of four single women, all of whom work at the hospital in town, took us out for dinner in the city. It was a fantastic evening, in part because we don’t usually get to go “to the city” for the evening, but mostly because they are a wonderful group of people. We first met three of them when they came to our house about a year and half ago asking whether we were available to teach them some evening English lessons. We taught them and a few others for about two months, and they were a great group. The fourth we met when we tried getting involved with the local HIV/AIDS organization, as she is the hospital’s liaison to that group.
These women understand the problems facing Thai society more than anyone we’ve talked to in our two years here. They’re dedicated to working with real people and real situations, not just filling in their time cards. Much of the evening was spent talking about alcohol problems, domestic abuse, teenage abortion, drug addiction, suicide, and of course AIDS, all problems rampant in our district but ones that teachers at our schools are generally not interested in discussing.
It was a rather bittersweet night, as we spent time with people who cared about the same issues we do, and who actually try to do something about it, and we wondered how our two years here would have been different if our assignment had been to work with them instead of in schools. Of course, we did try on numerous occasions to get involved with the hospital for “secondary project” work, but for a variety of reasons it never seemed to work out, and we continued teaching English. With just five days remaining in town, all I can do is hope that at some point in the future I’ll be doing a job in America that matters, and that Peace Corps will send another volunteer with the purpose of working with nurses like these. They’ve got great ideas and motivation on their own, but every little bit helps.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Cheers!
On Friday evening, our neighbors across the street hosted a little dinner gathering for us. For over four hours we sat, chatted, ate, and drank.
I've been fond of this group of people since we first arrived in our town. It was with them that we spent the day of the flood -- on the second story of one of their houses, after escaping from our own -- and I trust them completely. Many of them are semi-related in one way or another, and they break a few of the "rules" of Thai culture, which is part of why I enjoy them so much.
As part of our Peace Corps training, we females were warned that to drink any alcohol in public would be our downfall as volunteers. Thai women who drink are supposedly seen as loose and immoral in this very conservative culture. I adopted this new attitude quite well and, when I did have a half glass of beer during my last week at our host family's home, I felt guilty for days afterward. So, imagine my surprise when, upon our arrival at site in April of 2005, I saw the women across the street drinking merrily every night and not seeming to suffer -- or worry about -- any social consequences.
I later discovered that the supposed social prohibition against women drinking is a bit of a myth these days, as I watched female school district employees, teachers, and others all over our town enjoy alcohol on many occasions. It took me nearly a year before I was willing to ignore the Peace Corps warnings and drink in public, but when I finally did it was with this group. I still feel a bit weird whenever it happens, but on Friday night, I enjoyed the party. For, as you can see from the photo, what's not to enjoy?
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Bouquets
In typical Thai national education fashion, the end of the school year is filled with dramatic schedule changes. My last day at my Monday-Thursday school was supposed to be tomorrow, but my co-teacher, Warangkana, was suddenly summoned (along with many other teachers) to a 12-day workshop in Chiang Mai. So my last day at that school was, actually, last week. So much for saying goodbye! Warangkana will be back just in time to help drive us to the airport on the day we leave town.
The unexpected departure of nearly 30% of the teachers at our schools means that going-away parties that were originally planned for next week have instead already happened. Last night was the first, and tonight another. Both were dramatic stories in and of themselves that I don’t have the energy to tell, but I did want to highlight some beautiful gifts we were given.
If you look closely at the flowers in these bouquets – Robert is being given one by our landlord, his principal, in the first photo, and I’m getting one from Warangkana in the second – you’ll notice that they are made of... money. Thai baht bills in different denominations. Teachers at each school folded them into lovely flowers of different varieties. We’ll be leaving Thailand with a bit more cash than we expected! They are so pretty that I’ll hate to unfold them when the time comes, but we were repeatedly reminded to "spend the money" and not let it get mistakenly thrown away!
The unexpected departure of nearly 30% of the teachers at our schools means that going-away parties that were originally planned for next week have instead already happened. Last night was the first, and tonight another. Both were dramatic stories in and of themselves that I don’t have the energy to tell, but I did want to highlight some beautiful gifts we were given.
If you look closely at the flowers in these bouquets – Robert is being given one by our landlord, his principal, in the first photo, and I’m getting one from Warangkana in the second – you’ll notice that they are made of... money. Thai baht bills in different denominations. Teachers at each school folded them into lovely flowers of different varieties. We’ll be leaving Thailand with a bit more cash than we expected! They are so pretty that I’ll hate to unfold them when the time comes, but we were repeatedly reminded to "spend the money" and not let it get mistakenly thrown away!
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Personal Feature: Ajaan Waewnapa
The end of our Peace Corps service is approaching more quickly every day, and last week I had the sudden news that I’ll be saying goodbye to one of my co-teachers this very week. Waewnapa, with whom I teach at my Tuesday-Friday school, will be spending the summer break in another province in order to start working on her masters degree. This means that she has to leave before the school year even ends. I’ve got just one day left with her! I thought I’d better use the opportunity to tell her story now.
Waewnapa was born the youngest of five children to an extremely poor family of farmers several kilometers north of our town. Her parents were unable to provide for her, so a childless couple in their village happily took her to be their own daughter. Until her teenage years, Waewnapa didn’t know that her birth parents, brothers, and sisters lived just across the street. She knew the people she now calls her "foster" parents as her own family.
At age 19, newly graduated from high school and wanting a more exciting life than the village could provide, Waewnapa moved with some friends to Bangkok. She worked as a salesgirl in a shopping mall, barely earning enough to get by. During her first few years there, she observed that a college degree would help her find a better job. She enrolled in night classes to study an English major. It took several years, but finally she finished and found a job working as a receptionist for an international company.
Also working at that company was a young man about her age, who had moved to Bangkok from southern Thailand. They were married in a traditional northern Thai ceremony at which both her birth family and foster family were present, and returned to live in Bangkok. Life was unpleasant, though. Waewnapa’s husband drank and gambled frequently, and wouldn’t allow her to go out with her friends. To pay his gambling debts, he sold the car she had bought herself. Pregnant and sick of marriage, she moved back up north five years ago. He occasionally called her family’s house looking for her, but she refused to see or talk to him.
When her daughter, Nong Muk ("pearl"), was born, Waewnapa knew she needed to find work that would allow her to both make a decent salary and live near her family. She returned to school again, this time to get a teaching degree. After several more difficult years, she finally found a regular teaching job in our town, just before we arrived here ourselves.
Today, Waewnapa continues to work hard. She helps to support both her birth mother and her foster parents, as well as her daughter. She wants Nong Muk to have a good education, and eventually that will mean sending her away to school in the city. In the meantime, she is determined to keep advancing her own education in the hope of finding better job security and more pay. She is also determined to remain single. I asked long ago if she knew where her ex-husband was. "I don’t know, maybe he’s dead for all I care," she responded. As a divorced single mother, she’s at a definite disadvantage in Thai society. She’s not bitter, but believes that marrying another Thai man would only mean a loss of the independence and self-confidence that she worked hard to find.
You wouldn’t know it from the photo, but Waewnapa is 36 years old today! She’s roasting mushrooms for one of my favorite northern Thai foods: nam prik het.
Waewnapa was born the youngest of five children to an extremely poor family of farmers several kilometers north of our town. Her parents were unable to provide for her, so a childless couple in their village happily took her to be their own daughter. Until her teenage years, Waewnapa didn’t know that her birth parents, brothers, and sisters lived just across the street. She knew the people she now calls her "foster" parents as her own family.
At age 19, newly graduated from high school and wanting a more exciting life than the village could provide, Waewnapa moved with some friends to Bangkok. She worked as a salesgirl in a shopping mall, barely earning enough to get by. During her first few years there, she observed that a college degree would help her find a better job. She enrolled in night classes to study an English major. It took several years, but finally she finished and found a job working as a receptionist for an international company.
Also working at that company was a young man about her age, who had moved to Bangkok from southern Thailand. They were married in a traditional northern Thai ceremony at which both her birth family and foster family were present, and returned to live in Bangkok. Life was unpleasant, though. Waewnapa’s husband drank and gambled frequently, and wouldn’t allow her to go out with her friends. To pay his gambling debts, he sold the car she had bought herself. Pregnant and sick of marriage, she moved back up north five years ago. He occasionally called her family’s house looking for her, but she refused to see or talk to him.
When her daughter, Nong Muk ("pearl"), was born, Waewnapa knew she needed to find work that would allow her to both make a decent salary and live near her family. She returned to school again, this time to get a teaching degree. After several more difficult years, she finally found a regular teaching job in our town, just before we arrived here ourselves.
Today, Waewnapa continues to work hard. She helps to support both her birth mother and her foster parents, as well as her daughter. She wants Nong Muk to have a good education, and eventually that will mean sending her away to school in the city. In the meantime, she is determined to keep advancing her own education in the hope of finding better job security and more pay. She is also determined to remain single. I asked long ago if she knew where her ex-husband was. "I don’t know, maybe he’s dead for all I care," she responded. As a divorced single mother, she’s at a definite disadvantage in Thai society. She’s not bitter, but believes that marrying another Thai man would only mean a loss of the independence and self-confidence that she worked hard to find.
You wouldn’t know it from the photo, but Waewnapa is 36 years old today! She’s roasting mushrooms for one of my favorite northern Thai foods: nam prik het.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Personal Feature: Pi Noy
A few weeks ago I wrote about how our friend at the school district office, Pi Noy, enjoys making lunch for us sometimes on Wednesdays. Today I’ll write a little more about Pi Noy herself.
Pi Noy, whose real name is Payom, was born one of six children in a village just outside of our town. Her father worked in and eventually owned an orchard nearby. Their house was on the same piece of land on which Pi Noy currently lives. She attended school in town, and grew to adulthood developing a very strong sense of values, including modesty, moderation, and responsibility towards home and family.
After finishing high school, Pi Noy attended teacher college in Isaan – the northeastern region of Thailand – and earned a teaching degree. While working in a school district office, she met a tall young teacher named Weera. Friends assured her it was the perfect match, as they shared the same powerful sense of responsibility and traditional values. They were married and had two sons, O and A, before moving back to Pi Noy’s home village. Today he is a principal at one of the local schools, and she works in the Policy & Planning department of the district office. Their sons, now teenagers, attend school far away, though one is close enough to visit many weekends.
I first met Pi Noy in April of 2005 at the office. She came to me with a list of Thai phrases she wanted help translating into English. We soon received a lunch invitation to her home, and she’s been cooking delicious Thai vegetarian food for me every since.
I have known few people as genuinely generous as she. She has welcomed nearly every one of our American guests for dinner at her home, and many have said it was one of their favorite meals in Thailand. When our flood happened in September of 2005, her house was not affected, but she went all out helping others who were. She came to our house on the second day, looked at our piles of muddy clothing, and without a word shoveled it all into the back of her pickup truck and sped home. I later learned that it took her up to ten hand rinses for each batch before enough mud was out of the clothing for it to go into the washing machine. Last year, Pi Noy and Por Or Weera hosted Chanon, a high school exchange student from Norway, for ten months. She so enjoyed being able to take care of someone, and guide them through Thai culture, that they’re hoping to do it again during the next school year.
Many years into the future, I know that I’ll look back at my time in Thailand and some of my fondest memories will be dinners at Pi Noy’s house. And we get to go again tomorrow, hooray!
[The first photo shows me with Pi Noy in her beautiful kitchen. The second shows Robert, Por Or Weera, and Pi Noy eating the specialty noodles of another northern province. The things that look like little meatballs are, for them, little pork meatballs, and for me, little vegetarian meatballs.]
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Doi Pui (Bai Tiow Part II)
After leaving the wedding on Saturday afternoon, we headed out with our landlords for some sightseeing. For about a year, they had been talking about wanting to talk us up into one of the higher mountain villages that dot the north of Thailand. Finally, we had our chance. We headed up past Doi Suthep (overlooking Chiang Mai city) to the Hmong village of Doi Pui,
Over past decades, the royal family of Thailand has sponsored a number of sustainable development projects in northern hill tribe areas. The general goal is to encourage hill tribes to move out of the opium trade and into safer, healthier economies. Doi Pui is one such example.
Up in the village, we visited the small museum and looked at some traditional artifacts and tools. We took photos in the opium gardens. We purchased handicrafts from several of the stalls along the windy roads. We admired the waterfalls.
We opted to skip the opportunity to pay 60 baht to dress up in traditional Hmong clothing for our photos in the gardens, however. Although it was clear that Doi Pui was managed and operated in a sustainable manner by the residents of the village, and not by the Thai government, we felt awkward about some of its elements. At one point, Ajaan Warangkana pulled me into a small structure where a tour group was listening to their guide explain what they were seeing. It seemed to be a replica of a house, and the English-speaking guide was pointing out the various spaces – sleeping area, cooking area, meat smoking area, etc. I couldn’t see much so I just translated the descriptions for Warangkana. When the group moved away and I was able to see inside, however, I realized that it was a REAL HOUSE CURRENTLY IN USE BY ITS RESIDENTS. A woman was cooking. Two kids were lying on a bench watching TV, surrounded by some very used-looking blankets.. Clothes were hanging on the line to dry. There we were, tourists, in someone’s real home. It was a very strange feeling, and Robert and I agreed that we wanted to quickly move back outside.
We couldn’t decide how we felt about the experience overall. On the one hand, in our position as tourists we were clearly supporting the economy of the village. I know that this kind of tourism can in many cases help communities to preserve their traditional cultures, because doing so has an economic benefit. On the other hand, at times it felt a little bit like walking through a zoo, except that the zoo had people instead of animals. I don’t feel comfortable seeing my fellow human beings this way.
As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I’ve had the opportunity to be part of "the real thing" while living in Thailand. I don’t just walk around like a tourist, looking at people’s culture and admiring or analyzing it. No, I’m living it, and wow, it’s real. All the good and bad parts mixed up together for two solid years. Nothing like the guidebooks.
We can’t all have this opportunity, though, and even I will probably only have it with a limited number of communities. (Our trip to Laos was clearly tourism-focused, but highly educational.) And certainly it must be better to have some exposure to other cultures, as a tourist, than to have none at all. Perhaps the best way to look at this issue is to say is that if I could learn something from the experience, and use it to be a better citizen of the world, then it has a value beyond its local economic benefits. And perhaps that’s good enough for me.
Over past decades, the royal family of Thailand has sponsored a number of sustainable development projects in northern hill tribe areas. The general goal is to encourage hill tribes to move out of the opium trade and into safer, healthier economies. Doi Pui is one such example.
Up in the village, we visited the small museum and looked at some traditional artifacts and tools. We took photos in the opium gardens. We purchased handicrafts from several of the stalls along the windy roads. We admired the waterfalls.
We opted to skip the opportunity to pay 60 baht to dress up in traditional Hmong clothing for our photos in the gardens, however. Although it was clear that Doi Pui was managed and operated in a sustainable manner by the residents of the village, and not by the Thai government, we felt awkward about some of its elements. At one point, Ajaan Warangkana pulled me into a small structure where a tour group was listening to their guide explain what they were seeing. It seemed to be a replica of a house, and the English-speaking guide was pointing out the various spaces – sleeping area, cooking area, meat smoking area, etc. I couldn’t see much so I just translated the descriptions for Warangkana. When the group moved away and I was able to see inside, however, I realized that it was a REAL HOUSE CURRENTLY IN USE BY ITS RESIDENTS. A woman was cooking. Two kids were lying on a bench watching TV, surrounded by some very used-looking blankets.. Clothes were hanging on the line to dry. There we were, tourists, in someone’s real home. It was a very strange feeling, and Robert and I agreed that we wanted to quickly move back outside.
We couldn’t decide how we felt about the experience overall. On the one hand, in our position as tourists we were clearly supporting the economy of the village. I know that this kind of tourism can in many cases help communities to preserve their traditional cultures, because doing so has an economic benefit. On the other hand, at times it felt a little bit like walking through a zoo, except that the zoo had people instead of animals. I don’t feel comfortable seeing my fellow human beings this way.
As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I’ve had the opportunity to be part of "the real thing" while living in Thailand. I don’t just walk around like a tourist, looking at people’s culture and admiring or analyzing it. No, I’m living it, and wow, it’s real. All the good and bad parts mixed up together for two solid years. Nothing like the guidebooks.
We can’t all have this opportunity, though, and even I will probably only have it with a limited number of communities. (Our trip to Laos was clearly tourism-focused, but highly educational.) And certainly it must be better to have some exposure to other cultures, as a tourist, than to have none at all. Perhaps the best way to look at this issue is to say is that if I could learn something from the experience, and use it to be a better citizen of the world, then it has a value beyond its local economic benefits. And perhaps that’s good enough for me.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Chiang Mai Wedding (Bai Tiow Part I)
The son of a teacher at one of Robert’s schools was getting married yesterday in a small village in Chiang Mai province, so we arose at 5:30am in order to travel there with our landlords. We arrived just after 10:00am, too late to see the monks doing the religious blessing or the groom’s family presenting the dowry to the bride’s parents for approval.
We were, however, able to participate in the community blessing portion of the wedding day. One by one or in pairs, guests approach the couple on knees and present an envelope with the wedding gift. The "puean jow sow" and "puean jow bao" – roughly equivalent to best man and maid of honor – collect the envelopes and give each guest a piece of white string. The guests then tie the string around the wrists of the bride and groom while giving blessings and hopes for the future.
We had met the groom twice before: once at his monk ordination in our town last April (with my sister Annie) and once at the World Garden festival in Chiang Mai city in December, for which he helped us purchase our tickets (with our friend Leah). As I tied string on the wrist of the groom and Robert tied it on the bride, he spoke our wish for them to have happy experiences. I added a wish for good health.
After all the guests had an opportunity to tie string, the meal was served: green curry with fish balls, spicy minced pork "laab" salad, stir-fried chicken with cashew nuts, "Yam Woon Sen" noodle-meat salad, and fresh fruit. The bride and groom visited each table to take photos and hand out favors – keychains with the King’s picture. Several of the retired female teachers at our table enjoyed singing karaoke, and they even convinced Robert to give a performance of "I Just Called to Say ‘I Love You.’" Shortly before 1pm, we changed our clothes, got back into our landlords’ car, and headed out for some sightseeing. (To Be Continued...)
We were, however, able to participate in the community blessing portion of the wedding day. One by one or in pairs, guests approach the couple on knees and present an envelope with the wedding gift. The "puean jow sow" and "puean jow bao" – roughly equivalent to best man and maid of honor – collect the envelopes and give each guest a piece of white string. The guests then tie the string around the wrists of the bride and groom while giving blessings and hopes for the future.
We had met the groom twice before: once at his monk ordination in our town last April (with my sister Annie) and once at the World Garden festival in Chiang Mai city in December, for which he helped us purchase our tickets (with our friend Leah). As I tied string on the wrist of the groom and Robert tied it on the bride, he spoke our wish for them to have happy experiences. I added a wish for good health.
After all the guests had an opportunity to tie string, the meal was served: green curry with fish balls, spicy minced pork "laab" salad, stir-fried chicken with cashew nuts, "Yam Woon Sen" noodle-meat salad, and fresh fruit. The bride and groom visited each table to take photos and hand out favors – keychains with the King’s picture. Several of the retired female teachers at our table enjoyed singing karaoke, and they even convinced Robert to give a performance of "I Just Called to Say ‘I Love You.’" Shortly before 1pm, we changed our clothes, got back into our landlords’ car, and headed out for some sightseeing. (To Be Continued...)
Thursday, February 15, 2007
"Ngan" Means Both "Work" and "Party" in Thai...
It was one of those days...
Wednesdays are our "office days" at our site. We are based at the school district office, where we might make teaching materials or plan a teacher training. Sometimes we make visits to schools in the district that don’t usually have foreign teachers. This past Wednesday happened to be the "Corporate Civil Service Sports Day and Banquet" for various local employees. Since we were given free shirts to match the school district employee team, we thought we ought to attend.
The high school had cancelled classes for the day to allow the sports day celebrators to use its facilities. (Yes, you read that right.) We headed up there at 8am with Pi Noy, and then waited around for an hour until most of the rest of the participants arrived. All the teams lined up for the opening parade. Robert and I were given flags to carry in the school district section. As we listened to the marching band practice and watched the various drum majors and majorettes twirling their sticks, we agreed that it felt rather like being in high school again.
Robert and I, in matching shirts, with one of our majorettes:
Wednesdays are our "office days" at our site. We are based at the school district office, where we might make teaching materials or plan a teacher training. Sometimes we make visits to schools in the district that don’t usually have foreign teachers. This past Wednesday happened to be the "Corporate Civil Service Sports Day and Banquet" for various local employees. Since we were given free shirts to match the school district employee team, we thought we ought to attend.
The high school had cancelled classes for the day to allow the sports day celebrators to use its facilities. (Yes, you read that right.) We headed up there at 8am with Pi Noy, and then waited around for an hour until most of the rest of the participants arrived. All the teams lined up for the opening parade. Robert and I were given flags to carry in the school district section. As we listened to the marching band practice and watched the various drum majors and majorettes twirling their sticks, we agreed that it felt rather like being in high school again.
Robert and I, in matching shirts, with one of our majorettes:
Our friend At as drum major:
The parade finally began; we marched in formation across the field and listened to the remarks made in the opening speeches. We were reminded that to be healthy requires that we exercise 30 minutes per day, 4-5 days per week, and so on. The flag was raised, the runner completed his lap around the field and lit the torch, we did a last march around the field, and finally we were in the shade of our tent.
After just one short hour of foot races and volleyball, the partying started! By 11am, the karaoke music was playing, the grilled chicken was passed around, and the whiskey was flowing.
Some of the women started mixing up the lunch food, and Pi Noy hurried to make a vegetarian version for me. The main dish – in addition to the grilled chicken – was Yam Woon Sen, a spicy noodle salad. Most people ate it with a variety of processed meat slices. The photo shows my veggie tray on the far left, the regular Yam next, with crispy baked pig skin in the middle. Above the chicken is some green mango with chili dipping sauce, and on the far right is a large plastic cup of sticky rice. There was also spicy papaya salad (not pictured) made with crab cream for those who enjoy it, and oranges for dessert.
During lunch, Robert was called upon to fill out the men’s relay race team, so he willingly obliged. Here he is running down the field with a water balloon!
We left shortly after lunch because we had lots of work to do back at the office – we’re planning an English camp for 8 schools next week – and spent the afternoon in relative quiet. Pi Noy picked us up again at 6pm to take us to the banquet dinner. Of course, it was a Chinese meal, so she had brought along some salad for me to eat. Robert enjoyed the spicy grilled fish and the peanuts, and he said the vegetables with bacon weren’t bad. He did not like the boiled pork, the spicy fried meat salad, or most of the cold appetizers. He was too full for the chicken soup, and we managed to convey our tiredness well enough that we were taken home before the fried rice with pork arrived. Here’s a picture of him eating a well-flavored hot dog with chopsticks:
In addition to food, the banquet included karaoke, trophy presentations, and much conversation. All in all, yet another interesting day in the Thai education system.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Personal Feature: Kun Por & Kun Maa
During our first ten weeks in Thailand – our Peace Corps training – we spent two months living with a host family. Robert and I got pretty lucky with our family – some volunteers had less positive experiences – and yesterday we went back for our last visit with them before the end of our service. It’s a bit of a hike to get to their house, so we hadn’t been for a year. Many things had changed for them, but entering their home we felt again like the 30- and 27-year-olds we were when we first arrived in Thailand. For my second personal feature, I will talk a bit about Kun Por (host father) and Kun Maa (host mother).
Kun Por, whose real name is Somnuk, was one of six children born in a Chinese-Thai family in Central Thailand. His father was a ditch-digger. Kun Maa – real name Sujitra – is also one of 6 children, but her family is 100% Thai. Her father was a teacher in the community where we did our training and was well-respected in the area. When Somnuk arrived in town about 30 years ago, they fell in love and were married. Somnuk quickly built up a reputation as a hard worker who could be trusted, and within ten years he had been elected "poo-yai bahn", or head man, of the village. It was a life term, so he still continues as poo-yai today. He is among the very small number of Thai men who do not drink alcohol, which likely contributes to his high status.
Somnuk and Sujitra have two children. Their son, Mongkonchai, earned a masters degree in computer technology in Australia, where he has been living for several years. He has a Thai fiancee who is also studying a masters in Australia, and they will return here to be married in about six months. Their daughter is Anothai, and we’ve always been a bit confused about her story. During the time that we lived in the house, she worked for Toyota in Bangkok. Now, however, she has married a local farmer, and they are living with her parents and expecting a baby in April. We think there’s a bit more to the story but have hesitated to ask.
When we moved in, the household included four others: Kun Boo, Somnuk’s elderly father who couldn’t speak much; Pi Porn, a housekeeper in her 50's; Nong Lek, Pi Porn’s teenage daugher; and Watlunyoopa, Pi Porn’s young granddaughter. Pi Porn and her family left partway through our training because a relative of hers had become ill and she went to be the caretaker. Kun Boo died a little over a year ago.
The house is far from empty, though. In addition to Anothai and her husband, Sujitra now cares for two additional family members. Her father – Kun Daa – had his legs amputated last year and moved into the house from his nearby village. Sujitra does all his cooking, bathing, and dressing. Also, Somnuk and Sujitra have adopted a young orphan from the village. Mot Dit’s father, as Sujitra explained to us, visited too many woman, contracted HIV, passed it to his wife, and died. Mot Dit’s mother died also, leaving the 12-year-old with no relatives. Adoption of strangers is not common in Thailand, and I think it speaks very highly of the generosity of our former host parents that they have taken Mot Dit into their home and are raising her and sending her to school.
Although training was rough, we were very happy in our host family’s home. The food was delicious and the conversation good. Kun Por and Kun Maa took their responsibilities for teaching us how to survive in Thailand very seriously, and were constantly concerned with our comfort and well-being. During the many times during my first year that I wanted to quit and go home, I would think of them and remember how hard they had worked to see that we had all we needed when we were in their home, and I knew I didn’t want to let them down by going home early. They are people who ask for nothing for themselves, and only try to make the lives of those they love – their parents, their children, and the others who live with them – happier and richer. I’ll always remember their goodness, and be grateful that my introduction to Thailand was largely through them.
Kun Por, whose real name is Somnuk, was one of six children born in a Chinese-Thai family in Central Thailand. His father was a ditch-digger. Kun Maa – real name Sujitra – is also one of 6 children, but her family is 100% Thai. Her father was a teacher in the community where we did our training and was well-respected in the area. When Somnuk arrived in town about 30 years ago, they fell in love and were married. Somnuk quickly built up a reputation as a hard worker who could be trusted, and within ten years he had been elected "poo-yai bahn", or head man, of the village. It was a life term, so he still continues as poo-yai today. He is among the very small number of Thai men who do not drink alcohol, which likely contributes to his high status.
Somnuk and Sujitra have two children. Their son, Mongkonchai, earned a masters degree in computer technology in Australia, where he has been living for several years. He has a Thai fiancee who is also studying a masters in Australia, and they will return here to be married in about six months. Their daughter is Anothai, and we’ve always been a bit confused about her story. During the time that we lived in the house, she worked for Toyota in Bangkok. Now, however, she has married a local farmer, and they are living with her parents and expecting a baby in April. We think there’s a bit more to the story but have hesitated to ask.
When we moved in, the household included four others: Kun Boo, Somnuk’s elderly father who couldn’t speak much; Pi Porn, a housekeeper in her 50's; Nong Lek, Pi Porn’s teenage daugher; and Watlunyoopa, Pi Porn’s young granddaughter. Pi Porn and her family left partway through our training because a relative of hers had become ill and she went to be the caretaker. Kun Boo died a little over a year ago.
The house is far from empty, though. In addition to Anothai and her husband, Sujitra now cares for two additional family members. Her father – Kun Daa – had his legs amputated last year and moved into the house from his nearby village. Sujitra does all his cooking, bathing, and dressing. Also, Somnuk and Sujitra have adopted a young orphan from the village. Mot Dit’s father, as Sujitra explained to us, visited too many woman, contracted HIV, passed it to his wife, and died. Mot Dit’s mother died also, leaving the 12-year-old with no relatives. Adoption of strangers is not common in Thailand, and I think it speaks very highly of the generosity of our former host parents that they have taken Mot Dit into their home and are raising her and sending her to school.
Although training was rough, we were very happy in our host family’s home. The food was delicious and the conversation good. Kun Por and Kun Maa took their responsibilities for teaching us how to survive in Thailand very seriously, and were constantly concerned with our comfort and well-being. During the many times during my first year that I wanted to quit and go home, I would think of them and remember how hard they had worked to see that we had all we needed when we were in their home, and I knew I didn’t want to let them down by going home early. They are people who ask for nothing for themselves, and only try to make the lives of those they love – their parents, their children, and the others who live with them – happier and richer. I’ll always remember their goodness, and be grateful that my introduction to Thailand was largely through them.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Charity, Service, and Giving
Yesterday we attended a couple of ceremonies thanking the American Chamber of Commerce for their donations to two local schools, including one at which I co-teach. The 2005 flood destroyed the school’s library, and the ACC, with some individual and business partners, gave 60,000 baht (about $1500) to help buy new books and furniture. The event gave Robert and I a number of topics to discuss over dinner.
One thing Robert observed, considering yesterday’s event and other opportunities we’ve had to see charitable organizations in action, is that charity seems to work best when it’s designed close to home. World Vision, which I described in an earlier blog, has an office located right in our town and staffed by local people who know exactly what the needs of the community are. As a result, it’s extremely effective at using its available resources to target real needs for the students.
The ACC donation was a joint effort between local school staff and ACC staff in Bangkok. Our principal, realizing a need for library improvement, requested a grant, and American Chamber of Commerce provided the funds. School teachers then used the money to order books, furniture, and supplies. I would like to say that this was also an example of effective targeting of needs, however, in my opinion (which is just, of course, my opinion), while a school library is essential, many of the books purchased with the money are actually not suitable for young children or middle schoolers. But that’s just a small quibble.
Our Peace Corps project is an interesting subject. After spending nearly two years in our town, in schools with students, I have a pretty good sense of what their needs are. I would prioritize education about sanitation, health, nutrition, and life skills (critical thinking, decision-making), especially those that are effective in HIV prevention. English teaching would be near the bottom of my list, after math, Thai, and geography. I have frequently attempted to move in a few different directions. But, the Thai Ministry of Education, located hundreds of miles away in the tall buildings of Bangkok, determines our project goals, and they prefer that we teach English. The teachers have to conform to official requirements. And so we do.
Then, of course, there are the heavily funded and not necessarily effective organizations such as UNICEF that seem to spend lots of money on conferences and fancy cars for select groups of people, with little benefit trickling down to local communities. I can’t say that I know a lot about this, as I haven’t witnessed it first-hand, but I do know that a fancy car for NGO staff doesn’t do my kids a whole lot of good.
What does all this mean? I suppose those of us who give to charity just need to try to make sure that our money is being spent as we intend it to be, to the best of our ability. Sometimes there isn’t much we can do – if local school teachers decide to purchase boring Thai history books without any pictures with their library funds, against the recommendations of their Peace Corps Volunteer, you have to let it be. But I do think that most of us like to think that our money is not being wasted.
Which brings me to my final point. As a line of students was coming forward to receive their free notebooks and pencils from a computer company, the Thai woman next to me – an employee of the Office of Basic Education Commission – turned to me and said, "I don’t understand why foreigners give money to Thai school children. Why don’t rich Thai people do the same thing?" The woman in front of her, a Thai employee of the ACC, turned around and agreed. I wonder it too. I have heard that this is typical of Asian societies: providing assistance or charity to one’s own family is acceptable, even expected, but aiding strangers is seen as downright strange. What is it about Americans – and other classes of foreigners – that makes many of us want to reach out to people we have never or will never meet, to share a bit of what we have? A recent study found that American charitable giving correlates not with political affiliation or liberal/conservative ideology, but with religious participation. Is there something about religion in America that encourages us to be charitable? And why isn’t the same true in Thailand? I have my own ideas... but I’ll save them for another time.
One thing Robert observed, considering yesterday’s event and other opportunities we’ve had to see charitable organizations in action, is that charity seems to work best when it’s designed close to home. World Vision, which I described in an earlier blog, has an office located right in our town and staffed by local people who know exactly what the needs of the community are. As a result, it’s extremely effective at using its available resources to target real needs for the students.
The ACC donation was a joint effort between local school staff and ACC staff in Bangkok. Our principal, realizing a need for library improvement, requested a grant, and American Chamber of Commerce provided the funds. School teachers then used the money to order books, furniture, and supplies. I would like to say that this was also an example of effective targeting of needs, however, in my opinion (which is just, of course, my opinion), while a school library is essential, many of the books purchased with the money are actually not suitable for young children or middle schoolers. But that’s just a small quibble.
Our Peace Corps project is an interesting subject. After spending nearly two years in our town, in schools with students, I have a pretty good sense of what their needs are. I would prioritize education about sanitation, health, nutrition, and life skills (critical thinking, decision-making), especially those that are effective in HIV prevention. English teaching would be near the bottom of my list, after math, Thai, and geography. I have frequently attempted to move in a few different directions. But, the Thai Ministry of Education, located hundreds of miles away in the tall buildings of Bangkok, determines our project goals, and they prefer that we teach English. The teachers have to conform to official requirements. And so we do.
Then, of course, there are the heavily funded and not necessarily effective organizations such as UNICEF that seem to spend lots of money on conferences and fancy cars for select groups of people, with little benefit trickling down to local communities. I can’t say that I know a lot about this, as I haven’t witnessed it first-hand, but I do know that a fancy car for NGO staff doesn’t do my kids a whole lot of good.
What does all this mean? I suppose those of us who give to charity just need to try to make sure that our money is being spent as we intend it to be, to the best of our ability. Sometimes there isn’t much we can do – if local school teachers decide to purchase boring Thai history books without any pictures with their library funds, against the recommendations of their Peace Corps Volunteer, you have to let it be. But I do think that most of us like to think that our money is not being wasted.
Which brings me to my final point. As a line of students was coming forward to receive their free notebooks and pencils from a computer company, the Thai woman next to me – an employee of the Office of Basic Education Commission – turned to me and said, "I don’t understand why foreigners give money to Thai school children. Why don’t rich Thai people do the same thing?" The woman in front of her, a Thai employee of the ACC, turned around and agreed. I wonder it too. I have heard that this is typical of Asian societies: providing assistance or charity to one’s own family is acceptable, even expected, but aiding strangers is seen as downright strange. What is it about Americans – and other classes of foreigners – that makes many of us want to reach out to people we have never or will never meet, to share a bit of what we have? A recent study found that American charitable giving correlates not with political affiliation or liberal/conservative ideology, but with religious participation. Is there something about religion in America that encourages us to be charitable? And why isn’t the same true in Thailand? I have my own ideas... but I’ll save them for another time.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Competition... Again?
Before I came to Thailand, I had no idea that there could be so much formal competition in one school year. In America, of course, we have spelling bees, geography bees, and numerous sports and games during various seasons. For the most part, however, these take place outside school hours – especially the practices – and teaching continues as usual.
Not so here. The school year runs from May to March, and includes a bewildering assortment of contests. December is when things really get going, though. At each school, students representing the different grade levels (pre-school, grades 1-3, and grades 4-6) are selected to represent their school in a multitude of subjects and activities. English, Thai, math, and science, of course. Art (clay sculpture, drawing, painting, fruit sculpture, etc), garden design, and poetry. Thai pop singing, English pop singing, Thai traditional dance, and pop dancing. And of course, sports (soccer, volleyball, betong, dakrow, and track), which require their own competition days.
Student spend day after day practicing at school. Classes are cancelled, of course, and at many schools this means that those students who aren’t competing in any subject spend their time running around the playground. Teachers don’t teach, because they are coaching the competitors or attending meetings to get information about contest details.
Finally, the local level academic and sports competitions take place. Last week, our town schools competed from Wednesday through Friday. This week, the village schools are competing today and tomorrow. It’s a fairly large operation. (These days did not include the sports.) Winners will go on next week to compete at the school district level. Winners from there will compete at the provincial level, and up on until reaching the national level.
On the one hand, perhaps there’s nothing wrong with encouraging some competition in education. Kids who are skilled can get some recognition and experience. Parents can cheer for their kids and their community. On the other hand, it seems ridiculous to me to essentially stop teaching as early as January. Also, some of the contest categories are, in my opinion, completely inappropriate for elementary school students. Namely, the "dancer" competition.
I think it’s great that a large number of students learn traditional Thai dancing. However, in recent years, kids are learning and competing in a new style of dance. A style that, if I had a small daughter, I wouldn’t want her to do in her own house, much less on a stage in a skimpy costume in front of half the neighborhood. Thai people call this style of dancing "dancer," which I guess is some adapted language from America, except that in America, no school child could dance like this at anything remotely resembling a school event.
So, last Friday, I suffered through a good six hours of watching young girls (ages 5-12) shake their hips seductively. Most of them don’t have hips yet, of course, but you wouldn’t have known that from the costumes. I’m not sure why I didn’t just walk out, but my school was participating, after all. At one point, during a particularly disturbing dance by a group of 6th graders, I asked my co-teacher, "When your daughter gets to be that age, will you want her to dance like this?" "Of course," she responded. "Thai people aren’t good at showing their emotions. This helps girls learn confidence." Since the music was blaring, I really had no good response.
[The photos here are actually from the 2006 town school sports competitions. Lest anyone think I’m overreacting, let me make it clear that these costumes are nothing compared to the "dancers."]
Not so here. The school year runs from May to March, and includes a bewildering assortment of contests. December is when things really get going, though. At each school, students representing the different grade levels (pre-school, grades 1-3, and grades 4-6) are selected to represent their school in a multitude of subjects and activities. English, Thai, math, and science, of course. Art (clay sculpture, drawing, painting, fruit sculpture, etc), garden design, and poetry. Thai pop singing, English pop singing, Thai traditional dance, and pop dancing. And of course, sports (soccer, volleyball, betong, dakrow, and track), which require their own competition days.
Student spend day after day practicing at school. Classes are cancelled, of course, and at many schools this means that those students who aren’t competing in any subject spend their time running around the playground. Teachers don’t teach, because they are coaching the competitors or attending meetings to get information about contest details.
Finally, the local level academic and sports competitions take place. Last week, our town schools competed from Wednesday through Friday. This week, the village schools are competing today and tomorrow. It’s a fairly large operation. (These days did not include the sports.) Winners will go on next week to compete at the school district level. Winners from there will compete at the provincial level, and up on until reaching the national level.
On the one hand, perhaps there’s nothing wrong with encouraging some competition in education. Kids who are skilled can get some recognition and experience. Parents can cheer for their kids and their community. On the other hand, it seems ridiculous to me to essentially stop teaching as early as January. Also, some of the contest categories are, in my opinion, completely inappropriate for elementary school students. Namely, the "dancer" competition.
I think it’s great that a large number of students learn traditional Thai dancing. However, in recent years, kids are learning and competing in a new style of dance. A style that, if I had a small daughter, I wouldn’t want her to do in her own house, much less on a stage in a skimpy costume in front of half the neighborhood. Thai people call this style of dancing "dancer," which I guess is some adapted language from America, except that in America, no school child could dance like this at anything remotely resembling a school event.
So, last Friday, I suffered through a good six hours of watching young girls (ages 5-12) shake their hips seductively. Most of them don’t have hips yet, of course, but you wouldn’t have known that from the costumes. I’m not sure why I didn’t just walk out, but my school was participating, after all. At one point, during a particularly disturbing dance by a group of 6th graders, I asked my co-teacher, "When your daughter gets to be that age, will you want her to dance like this?" "Of course," she responded. "Thai people aren’t good at showing their emotions. This helps girls learn confidence." Since the music was blaring, I really had no good response.
[The photos here are actually from the 2006 town school sports competitions. Lest anyone think I’m overreacting, let me make it clear that these costumes are nothing compared to the "dancers."]
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