Bangkok

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The Politician by Khamsing Srinawk

My friend and I were walking around the backpacker's ghetto of Khao San in Bangkok about two weeks ago. The area is great for vegan fare and also a real hotspot if you ever want to come to an exotic country to buy stupid souvenoirs from Thais and or get your hair braided. The area is a dump, however it does offer a few used bookstores. Sadly books out here are expensive, and even more disappointing is the lack of translated Thai literature, if only Thailand had been colonized.

While I was there I picked up a collection of stories by Srinawk. The collection of stories is largely set in rural Thailand, which while making up the majority of the landscape of the nation does not usually factor into the spectacular image of the tourist haven. When people think of Thailand they think of Bangkok and beaches.

Set in the countryside the stories grapple with issues of modernity, gender, and the ever intruding presence of foreigners.

My friend and I sat down on a bench nearby the backpacker's ghetto. She laid down while I sat up reading the book aloud. Nearby boats shuttled down the Chao Phraya river and the yellow shirts headquarter, with its netted garb, churned out ideas to invoke the masses. The introductory story, over twenty years old still has resonance and impact. Not only does it speak of the ambiguous relationship of Thai citizens to their representatives, and the emptiness of democracy but also of the timeless quality of those relationships.

Thailand is gearing up for another election. The prime minister is calling for elections in the fall. It is worried that the red shirts party Peua Thai will oust the current administration. When the nation's television satellite was disrupted for a few hours, everyone throughout the nation assumed that a coup d'etat was in process...

Whatever happens in Thailand in the next few decades, years, months, we can safely assume that politics will always be the same shameful repetition that it always is.
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The Politician

by Khamsin Srinawk

The shadows of the soaring pines falling across the rough road had shrunk in size to a couple of yards. The market-place was quiet as usual at this time of the day. Once in a while a bicycle passed. Under the overhanging roofs thickly coated with dust a few groups of country folk were walking. Now and again shouts emerged from the cafe on the corner but the passers-by paid no attention since everyone knew that of all those who might be tipsy any time any season, who else would it be but Kerhn or, as he was known around town, Professor Kehrn, and his three or four hangers-on. To tell the truth, they weren't a bad bunch. If rowdy, it was usually when each had drunk enough to be stewed, and Kerhn, the leader, wasn't a debauched outsider. On the contrary, he had risen to be abbot of the local temple. He had reached the second of the three levels of Dharma studies, his religious duties were well performed and he was respected by the faithful. Had he remained in orders, it is not impossible he would have risen to be chief monk of the district. But alas, nothing is permanent. The belief of the devout, especially devout women, in the Sacred Teaching often becomes in time belief in a particular monk. When that happens, if the religiously inclined woman doesn't become a nun, the monk finds some reason to put aside the yellow robe. Abbot Kerhn was no exception. Among the devout women who enjoyed going to the temple, but not to listen to preaching, was a widow named Wan Im. Before long, as everyone expected, the abbot left monastery and robe and moved into Wan Im's house where it was understood that they lived together as husband and wife. They lived quietly for some years but then, though her heart was unwilling, disease took Wan Im away. Grief converted the former prelate. The chagrin, instead of dissipating in heavy drink as he had hoped, swelled. Several times people saw him weep aloud in the middle of the market-place.

His wife's financial status having been assured from lending out money since she was young, Kerhn had enough for food and liquor for a long time to come. Later, when Kwahn and Koi, disciples from the days when he was a monk, joined him, the ex-abbot became chief of the band the townsfolk characterized as 'long-time mokns, big time louts.'

'Professor, you've no idea just what a mess the country is in. Pibun and Pao have flown off to goodness knows where,' he said as he pulled up a stool to the table. The three turned to him attentively.

'It's a big mess all right,' Koi mumbled drunkenly. 'Maybe this is what the bigmouths were blowing about at election time. What did they say, Professor?' he said, poking his face at Kerhn. '”Cracy, cracy something”.'

'Democracy, nut! Not “cracy”,' Kerhn said severely, They call it a “democratic coup d'etat” see. You have to have a lot of coups d'etat. Otherwise it isn't democracy.' He continued showing off his knowledge. 'You're stupid. If you don't know, keep quiet. I know because at the last election the district officer and provincial governor came to me on bended knees begging me to be a chief canvasser for their boss.'

'Eh, true!' Kwahn put in. 'The Professor and I really gave it to them. No one had the nerve to speak. Now there's going to be another election of people's representatives, isn't there?' he added gleefully.

Gurt put the glass down, brought his stool closer to the table and shook his head two or three times. 'Election for sure. I heard the bunch up at the provincial office spreading it around that it was time to get some service points again by going out and having the people knuckle to.'

The wind puffed a cloud of red dust from the road into the shophouse. Falling pine needles pattered on to the tin roof.

'I have an idea,' Koi spoke up again. 'If they need representatives, why don't you run, Professor?'

'Ha! You've got something there,' Gurt backed him up.

Koi, gathering enthusiasm, half stood up from his stool and continued in a loud voice. 'Because... um... because the Professor is a great man. He has money and no children to worry him. Wealth is corrupting, so why hang on to it? That's dead right, isn't it Kwahn?'

The person questioned assented with a slow nod of his head.

'Easy dammit. You're looking for trouble.' Kerhn turned to him annoyed.

'They say these representatives are really big. Bigger than village heads; bigger than county chiefs, bigger than district officers, bigger than provincial governors, and what really matters, bigger than the police. Now that's it. You can do anything. Booze, beat up anyone, kick the Chinese in the pants. Who could stop you? You could get even with that bloody Police Sergeat Haut. Just yesterday we laced into each other at the poker game at the chief's house behind the police station.'

Kerhn listened intently to Kwahn rave. He chuckled, wagging his head like a tall bell tower swaying in the first storms of the rainy season. He muttered, 'This here Kwahn doesn't know what he's talking about. I used to be a chief canvasser for the provincial governor. Now I know that anyone who gets to be a representative has to be an important person. Really knowledgeable about money matters.' He paused for a second to reach for his glass of whisky, then took a gulp. 'Even as we are, people say we're bad. You know, if it wasn't because I have some money and did some bullying to help the big guys at the last election, by now the police would have done me in.' He fixed his eyes on Kwahn. 'I can't even be a decent person myself, how could I represent anybody else?'

'That's not right, Professor. I think to be a representative nowadays you've got to be a hooligan, shout a lot, and put people off by cursing their families right back to their great grandfathers. You the bunch running for office last time: no better than us ruffians, shouting around, swearing in the middle of the street. Even if we are a little wild, there are only a few of us. That last crowd of representatives brought in a pack of robbers, hundreds of them. That's why I think the Professor is great for being a representative.'

'It's not easy. I used to be a canvasser. I know.'

'That's it. That's just it! You can be a vote-getter for others. What makes you think you can't be a vote-getter for yourself? Give it a try, Professor, give it a try.' He patted Kerhn on the back. 'If anything goes very wrong, we'll punch them up. So what? Our fists are pretty well known around here.'

'But... ,' the voice of the Professor softened. 'But what will I say to them? I hear those people hungry for office blabbering, lying, boasting of a million and one things. People like me, even if I am a drunk … I was a monk, I studied, if you want me to lie and crow … well, it sticks in my throat.'

Kwahn called for some more whisky. The whooshing of the wind across the tin roof blotted out the whistling of the pines. Whisky gurgled faintly into the glasses. At almost the same moment, each of the four reached for his and drank. Their expressions and eyes were thoughful.

'Golly,' Kwahn groaned softly. 'Professor, you're making too much of this. How hard can it be? I could be elected if I had the money. You lambaste them. You can point your finger in their faces and give them hell.'

'If things go wrong, we'll smash them into the ground,' Koi interjected. 'We're local people. The folks around know what we can do. The odds are with us. Put up a fight. Look Professor, the more they say these representatives are bigger than the police, the more it's worth a go. How many times has Sergeant Huat pushed us around? Maybe it's our turn now.'

Outside the shop, the sun was dazzling. The grey gravel covering the road reflected the light like the scales of those plaster serpents decorating temple steps. Bicycles were passing by. Kerhn stared down the road that thrust straight into the dense forest. The surrounding mountains were faintly visible in the flames of sunshine. His head nodded drunkenly again as a dark green bicycle steadily approached.

'Eh, if it isn't Sergeant Haut.' Kerhn popped to his feet. 'Hey Sarg, I'm a representative. What do you think of that!'

Bicycle brakes screeched.

'Drunk again. Go home. Making a commotion, disturbing the people. I'll haul you off to the police station in a minute.'

Crestfallen, Kerhn dropped back on his bench staring after the grey shirt until it disappeared around a corner at the end of the market-place.

'That's the ticket, Professor,' a voice piped up. 'This isn't the first time Sergeant Haut's bit the dust.'

'In fact we take turns. Sometimes him, sometimes me,' Kerhn mused faintly.

The news that Mr. Kerhn Kianrak, more commonly known as Professor Kerhn, would run for election as a people's representative spread quickly from the end of the market at the beginning of the road right up to the provincial administration building. Government officials split their sides with laughter but the common folk knew only that a candidate had to be obliging and generous and good at passing out whisky, cigarettes and even money, and had to like loud talk about things no one knew anything about, and well … Professor Kerhn seemed fully qualified.

On the day fixed for the nomination of candidates, Kerhn filed his papers, accompanied by Kwahn, Koi and Gurt. No difficulties were encountered. Kerhn paid the deposit of 3,000 baht and handed in a number of photographs taken when he had just left the monastery. From that day on, the little market-place of this frontier province perked up. Cars of various shapes and sizes managed to make their way to the province and helter-skeltered from one corner of the town to the other. For this election, there were almost ten candidates including former government officials, lawyers, titled bigwigs anad grad city folks, most of them from the capital and neighboring provinces. Only Kerhn was a native of the province.

Reputations for handing out money, whisky, tobacco and food established by the last crop of candidates and the lack of farming to be done because it was the dry season brough a heavy stream of people down from the distant hills. The numbers grew with the approach of election day. Night after night the candidates showed their movies, some nights only one show taking place, but on others as many as three stands would compete with one another. Candidates proclaimed their virture as though they were supermen. The crowds milled around noisily from group to group watching to see if anything was being given away and if disappointed would move on to a another circle. It seemed even more festive than the annual fair. Kerhn and his cronies floated drunkenly with the rest of the crowd. He didn't have a chance to make speeches and if he did, wouldn't have known what to say. Thee most he could manage was to make disturbances as things went along. But even that didn't go over so well because the people, still hoping the candidates would hand out money and fearing Kerhn would jeopardize the opportunity, became menacing. One night, two groups of candidates set up their platforms, projectors and screens in different corners of the field. Each of the office-seekers boasted of his boldness, ability, honors, infinite qualifications. Some boasted of having built roads, wells, monasteries and even lavatories. One volunteered to construct houses, plant gardens, build schools and hospitals. The people looked on with interest. Kerhn invited four or five buddies to start shouting from nearby.

'NO GOOD! SHUT UP! NONSENSE! NO...' Before the word was out of him, Kerhn realized he was flat on his back from the force of somebody's fist to which was added a growl, 'We're all waiting for money so what the hell are you shouting for?'

Kerhn, his mouth and ears swollen, an eye closed, staggered towards home with his friends, dejected. 'It looks bad,' he muttered to his cronies while swaying down the road. That night all except Kerhn slept in a stupor. The force of the blow earlier that evening forced his mind to search for a way to get the better of them. He rubbed his mouth and groaned softly, but before dropping off to sleep, smiled.

At dawn, Kerhn, still groggy, got up and staggering a few steps forward stumbled over Kwahn, kicking him lightly in the middle of the back.

'Kwahn, get up, get up Kwahn.'

Kwahn turned over and bracing himself with both hands against the floor reached a sitting position but then fell over again. On the third try he stayed up and squinted about. 'You sure are skinny, Professor,' he mumbled while fishing about for a water bowl. 'Must be from too much drink and not enough sleep.'

'None of your flattery. Nothing physical is permanent.'

Kwahn pulled Koi up from his sleep. The cloudless morning was chilly, the mist tumbling with the pale sunshine. Kerhn looked at his two followers, his eyes showing fatigue.

'Koi, Kwahn,' he started slowly, 'I have found the way to do the loud mouths in. I know that most of the crowd have come because they think money is going to be handed out.' He stroked the still swollen parts of his face. 'So if you go around the market-place and tell everyone that if they want to get money, come to my house. Tell them I'll take them to get the money myself.'

As soon as his henchmen were out of the house, Kerhn went back to sleep. Later in the day he awoke, delighted to find the house was filled with noise and people. He tiptoed over to a crack in the wall to peep out at them: a real crowd, even more than he expected. His face dirty, his clothes wrinkled from sleeping, he stepped outside. Kwahn and Koi led the people with two loud hurrahs. The people echoed them with a roar. Kerhn yelled at the top of his voice, 'All right, all right, my brethren.' Interest focused. 'Now, there are a number of good people with money. They come here wanting to be our representatives...' A brief pause to gather breath. 'They all say they're going to build roads, dig canals, build us schools. Things like that they can do.' Brief pause. 'But compare those things to money, which do we want?' Fan an instant the question hung in the air.

'We want money, we want money, money, money moneeee,' the cry resounded from rank to rank filling the crowd.

'Good, excellent. We've got to go and get the money from them. They can build streets and roads. They need money to do it. They must have money. Where are they, where are they?' he asked provocatively.

'At the hotel, they're at the hotel, the lot of them,' returned the shouts from the crowd.

'All right, let's go!' Kerhn jumped from the porch, but fell over on his face from exhaustion of the previous night's adventures, arms and legs askew in a billow of dust and drawing a good laugh from the mob. He got up quickly, brushed the dust off and strode resolutely in front. A thousand people stretched in a long turbulent procession behind him heading for the small hotel, the only one in town.

Seeing a herd of people approaching, the group at the hotel with the politicians' instinct scurried to dress themselves as befits their dignity. Some quickly pinning on their medals and decorations, in full dress, throats twitching, gave orders to their people to connect the loudspeakers. 'Hey, hurry up, looks like they're really coming this way. See what I mean. The stupidity of the people really pays: it's like a pot of gold.' Some jumped for their beds and began practising gestures for their speeches.

Villagers, who hadn't an idea of what was going on, carried and dragged their kids along into the crowd. The whole body of astonished government officials dropped their work ot look on from the sides. The candidates formed a line in front of the hotel. Kerhn walked straight to them.

'We want to come to an agreement with you honourable representatives,' he began.

'With great pleasure,' the oldest one replied bowing until his body looked like an old shrimp at the end of the rainy season. 'If there is anything at all we can do for you, we will represent you to the best of our ability.' A broad smile pushed out his ruddy jowls as he led the whole group in a bow.

'What have you got to give us?'

'Whatever is the desire of the people of our province, whatever will serve the welfare of the people of our province, that will I do for my fellows until my last breath,' replied a young one at the end of the row winding up with a little bow which brought the others down in little bows.

Without hesitation, Kerhn yelled at his loudest, 'MONEEE, WE WANT MONEY!'

The crowd took up Kerhn's cry.

'Money, we've come for money!' The words reverberated over and over again. 'Money, money.'

The candidates fidgeted. Drops of sweat broke out. Some tried to state their policies and aims. Some began to praise their own past activities and offered plans for the future. But the increasing demands for money prevented them all from finishing. The old noble who had dragged his shrivelled body up from the capital fainted to the delighted cheers of the crowd. Those who tried to speak crumpled their notes in fustration.

The cries grew deafening as Kerhn firmly made his way to the microphone and gestured to the mass.

'All you faithful believers, you've seen for yourselves they're a lot of wind. They'll do everything for us, but how can they do anything when all we do is ask for money and they don't have any to give us? When that's the way it is, how can we believe them? How can we elect them?' His voice was emphatic.

'These fellows who are running for office come from different ranks and classes. That one over there is a knight.' He pointed his finger. 'The next one over there is a sir. And the one next to him is a lawyer. The old one there who almost died a minute ago is a noble. That one there who's hung a lot of magic charms on his chest is a general. All you faithful, decide for yourselves who you are going to elect. Now I used to be a canva... er, that is, I used to go to Bangkok. Now I'll tell you something. A lot of you probably don't know what a knight, a sir and so forth are. Well, I'll tell you. A knight looks after horses and also sometimes feeds and waters chickens, ducks and elephants. They do it at night. I know because I've been to Bangkok. A sir we ought to speak to as 'Sire', and we know that sires are kept for our mares that don't have any foals yet. As for this noble, I have my doubts about him. What kind of noble doesn't wear his proper robes? Maybe he's an ignoble noble.' He stopped to swallow his saliva.

'That one over there who loves those toys is a general. Take a look. Pinning a row of seashells on his chest. Those people are childish. They like toys just like our children. The one who's sneaking away, he's a lawyer, someone who likes trouble where he finds it. No money to give him and you land in jail.'

The crowd listened in astonished silence. Kerhn was still for an instant and then continued.

'Dear friends, the others have done a lot of talking. Today, listen to me. I'm a candidate too. Who was it a little while ago who said he really knows us, really knows our poverty and troubles? Ask him. Brethren ask him. Does he know how many acres we have? Does he know what we eat with our rice in the morning? Believe me, he doesn't know. Empty talk. Now take me. I'll do anything you want. Kick a dog, bash somebody's head in. Anyone you don't like, tell me. Er... uh.' As his eyes lit on Sergeant Huat standing at the side, his voice tempered. 'What I just said … in fact I never did anything like that. I'll end here. Amen. May you have long life, good looks and health, and may the Triple Gems help me become a people's representative.'

From that day, Kerhn's reputation flourished among the people while the other candidates dodged public meetings to avoid the taunts. Some, losing their nerve, fled back to Bangkok.

Election day came and passed without incident. The official results were announced a little past eight in the evening. Soon after, Sergeant Haut rushed breathlessly up to the duty officer at the police station.

'Now I'm in for it, sir,' the poor policeman gasped. 'Mr. Kerhn, he was drunk and raising a row in the market. I locked him up here since morning and now he's the people's representative. I'm not going to be in this district for long, that's for sure.' His voice was tinged with alarm.

'That's bad. That's really bad. Have you released him yet?' the duty officer asked, lifting his eyes from the daily reports. But Sergeant Haut had already vanished.

The duty officer then walked over and opened the cell door. The three of them were sprawled on the floor sleeping. The stench of vomit mixed with other filth wafted out. Locating Kerhn, the officer reached out to shake him lightly but swiftly withdrew his hand when he found his target covered with vomit. He grumbled to himself and used his foot instead, nudging Kerhn gently.

'Sir, sir, mister, hey Kerhn, Kerhn.'

'Huh,' Kerhn drawled. 'Where am I? Give me some water.' He screwed up his eyes. 'Black as pitch.'

'It's night already. You can leave, sir. Please wake up those two gentleman.'

'Eh, who are you talking to, lieutenant?' Kerhn asked bewildered.

'I'm talking to the honourable representative, sir. Please leave. The election is over now.'

Kerhn took some time to wake up the other two, then all three crawled outside. Each drank a bowl of water offered by the police, walked unsteadily out of the police station and disappeared in the darkness. Kerhn still kept to himself the news heard a moment before from the police. His ears were ringing with the words 'honourable representative' spoken with humility by the authorities who had for so long bullied him. The three bumbled through the blackness in silence and crawled up the stairs to the house. Kwahn and Koi flopped down at once and went back to sleep by the stairs. Kerhn rested, his brain agitated but confused. The drunkenness had vanished. He felt airy, as if disembodied. He began to think of things he had never though of before, of the words 'people's representative'. He though of Gurt's words spoken in the cafe. 'A representative is bigger than the district officer, bigger than the provincial governor.' Apart from that he knew nothing. Was that all? Doubt welled. Surely there was something more because he knew that every people's representative had to go to Bangkok. But they must have more to do than just go to the capital. Kerhn began to reflect on Bangkok and its crazy bigness. Didn't this mean he had to go there to live, separated from his own people in a different kind of life? Now what would that be like? The outlook wasn't bright any more. Kerhn had been to Bangkok once when still a monk. He tried to recall the name of the temple where he had stayed but couldn't. The failure preyed on his mind. Anxiety increased as he recollected a picture of a previous representative cloaked outlandishly in a jacket that looked like a whole blanket, with a silly rag dangling from his neck. He mumbled to himself, 'What a fool. You don't know when you're well off.'

The moon and constellations sank in the sky. 'Whew, this world is sure getting hot for me,' he exclaimed to himself. As he went to get a drink of water, the neighbour's roosters crowed their announcement of dawn. Kerhn was afraid of the daybreak. Bleakness was creeping in with it. The bushes and trees were beginning to have an outline. In that instant he made up his mind. Kwahn and Koi were dead asleep. He disappeared into the house for a second and returned, casting a glance and a sigh at his two disciples. Finally, he tiptoed past them, went out of the house and headed straight for the market-place, nothing in mind like a mechanical doll. At the head of the road at the end of the market area he saw a standing truck and heard three people making a noise, so he drifted over. Two young fellows faced him as if he were some night pilferer but beckoning asked for a hand to push the stalled vehicle. In a few words Kerhn learned that the truck was carrying rice and other goods across the border. He helped at once and in a second the engine fired and the truck disappeared in the direction of the glow on the horizon.

No one saw Mr. Kerhn again. No one in the province knows where he has gone. Those who knew turned out to be the reporters from the Bangkok newspapers. Several of the papers ran the story that a fearless representative of the people had his mouth closed by a dark power and that his body was thrown over a cliff for the vultures to pick at. The news item was accompanied by a photo of vultures under white clouds.

Now the little province is busy again. Every day fancy cars of the big boys from Bangkok investigating this mysterious case arrive and take back to the city a policeman or two. One car just went off this morning carrying away Sergeant Huat mutter, 'Damn, now I've had it.'

The Rain

The Don Muang airport is in the north bangkok. The airport is run down. It was built in the early part of the 1900s. It closed for a short time when Suvarnbhmi opened in 2006, but you couldn't tell. The decor is at least thirty years too old. The seats are well worn. A thousand people have sat on the pieces of plastic wearing in grooves.

I purused the books in the small book store by the boarding gates. Oddly the majority of them were Gay and lesbian themed academic novels. One book contained lesbian erotica. I flipped through the pages. It seemed very emotional.

"That plane doesn't look like it will crash," She said as we walked out to the plane. The twin engine passenger plane was large, and weathered like the airport it serviced. We boarded the plane and I opened my book.The flight to Surat Thani was short. Airplane rides in Thailand take an hour, an hour and a half. Its doesn't matter where to. Its always about an hour. I read the novel for a while and then nodded off. My thoughts looping over and over imagining the plane's engine falling off. We would crash into the ocean and drown. I woke up when the plane landed.

We took an hour long bus ride to the ferry building. The seats were filled when we got on the bus so we took the first two empty seats. The upholstery was threadbare. I sat down. The rain leaked onto the seat. The sky had opened up and the rain was falling regularly.

"Its supposed to rain all weekend," she said. "I read the weather report."



"I don't care, it will be fun. I've never been to koh samui before and it will be nice just to go somewhere with you," I replied.

Her mouth smiled slowly. I could see her teeth.

The bus stopped at a ferry building. The boat wouldn't come for an hour. We ate over priced sandwhiches and fried rice. Hers had egg in it. The small cafeteria filled with backpackers. Their whispy beards and repulsive fashion filled the room. I wanted to leave. The ferry came. We got walked over a wobbly plank onto the the boat. The rain made the plank slick. It shook as I walked across it. We went down below.

She sat next beside me. "Every time I travel I sleep the entire way," she said.

She leaned her head against me. The boat bobbed up and down with the movement of the waves. I looked out the window. The water kept falling from the sky. The bay of Thailand's surface rippled.

We arrived and took a mini van to the hotel. We were shown our room. It was large with a hot tub. The next night we sat in the tub. The jets bubbled the water. The rain outside continued. We drank white wine.

We checked out of our luxiorous hotel and sat near the beach. She made a phone call. She looked at me.

"The ferry has been shut down, the road from the ferry has flooded. What do you want to do? If we take a plane from the airport on the island it will cost an extra 4,400 baht."

"We should take the plane. Its less of a gamble," I said. The showers had picked up in intensity and fequency. The downpour was harder. We sat underneath a villa watching the ocean rise. The ocean water was a dirty brown. She saw me look at it.

"Normally the water is clear and green," She said. She hung up the phone. "I booked us a flight for wednesday."

Two more days. We watched Mad Men in the room. I heard saw flashes of light outside. The crash of thunder boomed. I wondered what happened when lightning struck the surface. We took a cab the next day. It cost an extra hundred baht to go to Chaewaeng beach, the main tourist area. The main road was flooded. The roads we went down were brimming with water. Several motorbikes tried to get through. They were water logged. The cars that passed on the street looked less like automobiles and more like boats. They pushed water to the side as they came down the street. I felt the water shake our taxi. It was like being on the ferry again.

We arrived at Xin city in the downtown area. We moved into our room. We unpacked. The rain continued. We got food. We went to bed. The morning brought continuing rain. She called the airport. Our flight had been canceled. All the flights for the day had been canceled.

"All the flights have been canceled. What should we do," she asked me. I looked at her from the bed.

"Let's go to sleep," I said. Outside the water levels rose slowly rising. I wondered if and when they would reach our hotel room. We were on the third floor. Houses on the other islands had been washed away.

"Well have to stay two more days," she told me when I woke up. I nodded. I went to the bathroom. The faucet didn't work. "The power is out."

I looked out the window. Still the rain came down. It changed from a heavy storm to a light drizzle then it would drench the land again. A few people tried to navigate through the water. I looked at them. Their thin ponchos barely protected them.



A half an hour later the Hotel's generator came on. The lights worked, the internet didn't. We walked through the streets. The water came up to my shin, almost to her knees. We waded down the main thorough fare. I thought of Gene Kelley tapping his feet on the sidewalk of Koh Samui.



A note came under our door the next morning. The hotel wouldn't run its generator the entire time as gas on the island had run out. I wondered if we should ration our money. The atms weren't working. I thought about how I should have spent my last few years in a survivalist cult instead of doing muay thai. I looked at her. If it wasn't for the sport I wouldn't be here.

"Its like the world is ending," she said.

"The world has been ending for a long time," I replied.

"Next year is 2012. Sometimes I hope the world ends. Its not supposed to be raining this time of year," she said. She reached her hand out the hotel room door and felt the rain drizzle on her hand.

I took her wet hand and squeezed it. I imagined Gene Kelley and a thousand back up dancers doing synchronized swimming after a tsunami. Fires would burn on broken houses at the highlight, the aftermath of the show would be radiation leaks causing tumors in the spectators.

"Maybe it will end today, maybe it will end tomorrow, arai ga dai," I told her.

The rain continued.

Pistol whipping and Carabao

"Matt, Matt," he said followed by several sharp raps on the door. I had been dozing lightly. "Go jogging na, jogging."

I got out of the bed and put in my contacts. I ran some toothpaste over my teeth to freshen my breath. My toothbrush was back in Bangkok, 95 kilometers away, about 60 miles. I opened the door to my shared bedroom. My roommate is a tall skinny Japanese guy that stayed up late last night and got drunk, oh those Japanese!

A small brown table sits right in front of the door for the Thais and the farang to eat at. A few feet further in front is the ring, and to the left are the heavy bags. It is a simple gym, and has the usual Thai glamour to it.

I slipped on my shoes and stretched waiting for the critical mass of folks to start jogging. Today the run was mainly myself, a 15 year old named Tam who led the way, a russian boy and his father. We ran down the streets of Kanchanburi province, mainly along a khlong. The view was uninspiring and mainly composed of roadside buffalo shit, the passing motorbike, and a heap of destroyed spirit houses. After we had ran 5 kilometers we returned to the gym, another 5 kilometers. Then it was the glorious living of Muay Thai.

On my way out to the gym in the mini van from Victory Monument to Thamaka I finished reading Ernest Hemingway's "Across the River and Into the Trees." Hemingway in his usual terseness tells the story of an aged colonel who falls in love with a young woman while in Venice, or some fancy European city. The book opens up with the colonel doing what men do, hunt. The former soldier takes exacting shots at ducks while in some sort of contraption called a blind. When he is not shooting he is drinking gin. Eventually pleased, at least to some degree, with his day of sport he returns to the city where he speaks an endless amount of lovesick babble to his sweetheart. Their conversations are ridiculous and when they are not, they are boring prattles about food.

"Excuse me," he said. "Be comfortable, honey dog, please. You asked me to tell you. (she wanted him to talk about the war.)"
"I'm not your honey dog. That must be someone else."
"Correct. You're my last and true and only love (vomit). Is that correct? But you asked me to tell you."
"Please tell me," the girl said. "I'd like to be your honey dog if I knew how to do it. But I am only a girl from this town that loves you (gag)."
"We'll operate on that," the Colonel said. "And I love you (barf). I probably picked up that phrase in the Philippines."

There are some redeeming aspects to their affair of the heart. He teaches her how to pistol whip a fool!

"Incidentally, Daughter, the weapon, not the old pistol, the real pistol, has missed more people in combat than probably any weapon in the world. Don't ever let anyone give you one unless you want to hit people on the head with it at Harry's bar. ...hit him with the barrel, not with the butt. The butt is awfully slow, and it misses and if it lands you get blood on your hands when you put the gun away." p.184

Sage words Hemingway.

Along with learning how to pistol whip I've also been studying my Thai. Next week I hope to have this song by Carabao memorized as all the trainers have asked me, repeatedly to sing it. Next week I said I would do so.

No Way Out of Paradise

Boonma lived in a shack, a ramshackle shack. The corrugated iron that served as a roof did little to add charm to the abode. He had built the house by taking a wage advance from his employer, a Chinese businessman. The three hundred baht loan, along with the permission to build on his employer's land allowed him to create a home for his wife, their three children and his grandfather. Yet the very loan that gave him the ability to create his own home made him suffer. The money coming in wasn't enough, especially when his wife became pregnant with their third child, and then grandfather was hurt, unable to work.

Boonma's loan was sold to another man and the underemployed protagonist is sent to sea to work. While on the stormy waters trying to eek a living things at home take on an inevitable decline. The poverty induces mother to shack up with another man, and Sida began engaging in sex work. What does Boonma do when he arrives home again? He rages. He beats his wife senselessly and almost destroys the house at the same time. The battered wife slips out in the night, and soon Sida leaves as well. Boonma returns to work on the seas and the two youngest children are left with grandfather to fend for themselves.

Chart Korbjitti's novel read easily on the raft as I floated on the river. I read the short novel in one afternoon whilst on a small raft in the Kanchanaburi province west of Bangkok. The raft floated lazily along the river Kwae Yai, the same river which was immortalized in the movie "Bridge Over the River Kwai." I was on a group vacation, with 8 other friends. We'd come out to Kanchanaburi and headed for one of the northern parks to spend a couple days by the water, and the water falls.

The simple narrative was made more interesting by the varying third person viewpoints, in one chapter it was Grandfather who was the focus, in another it was Ort, the older brother, and shifting back again to Boonma. Like Korbjitti's other novel, The Judgement, which won him the S.E.A novel award, No Way Out focuses on how inescapable fate is. The effects of karma are clear in Korbjitti's novels. If you misbehaved in your last life, you suffer in this one.

Boonma reflects on the horror of his life late in the novel, "What kind of fate was this? He must have committed a lot of sins in his previous life to have to repay with such suffering in this life, he thought (p. 125-126)."

Boonma isn't the only one to feel the heavy hand of fate and internalize life's current plight as one's own fault. Grandfather too blames himself. "'If I hadn't come to Bangkok at that time,' he continued in silence, 'no one would have had to suffer on my account.' ...The old man's life had been like a pretty piece of coloured material whichsomeone had had made up as a shirt and which, when it started to fall apart from use, had begun to lose its value and turned into a tattered old rag. As time had gone by, it had become dirtier and worthless. His life had been just like such a rag, a lonely, exhausting and worthless life. Now it was gone, waiting to be forgotten." Suffering in life is not only one's own fault but one's miserabalism just shows how worthless your life is. You were born in a squalid condition because you lived a squalid life previously. Poor people deserve their poverty in other words.



Korbjitti adds black humor into the mix with his ending. With Grandfather dead, his wife and daughter gone, and Ort arrested while trying to provide for the family, Boonma takes his fate into his own hands and poisons himself and his remaining son. The son dies from the poison, while Boonma is woken in a hospital. "'Don't try to commit suicide again, uncle. Believe me: death never solves anyone's problems. Stand up to life and fight. Fight with all you've got. And you'll be a winner.' The nurse lectured him with words she had ready- prepared for comforting all patients in his situation." The nurse's words don't echo the predominant theme of karma but humorously invoke agency, an agency which is denied to the working poor, as Boonma is. Her statement is also suggestive of the Horatio Alger myth of the western world, of which she may be trying to emulate herself (Nurses would be far more exposed to western concepts than working poor such as Boonma due to university education).

The novel's close is clear from the onset. The back jacket of the book has its last paragraph written on it: "Boonma was sentenced to death, but thecourt commuted the sentence to life imprisonment because of his full confession. He didn't appeal to the Supreme Court. He did nothing, except quietly accept his sentence. Sometimes late at night, fellow prisoners heard him wailing, like a tortured animal, alone..."

Born amongst ruins Boonma is committed to ruin. His house is destroyed, the iron corrugated roof for which he struggled for is wrecked by workingmen, agents of a the landowner. The land could be further capitalized on and so Boonma's house is easily torn apart. The house that was there might as well not have existed. It was worthless like a used up rag.

Korbjitti's novel reflects the dominant Buddhism mores of Thai society. While spectacular myths such as Horatio Alger keep capitalism entrenched in the western world, Buddhism does its own work in the exotic east. Our good friend Karl has always said, "Religion is the opiate of the masses." The Buddhism of Thai society reinforces class hierarchy by reinforcing the idea that one's fate is one's own problem rather than a societal and structural one.



The novel was a sharp contrast to my lazy vacation.Outside of my temporary paradise was a world that was cruel and fixed. I looked at one of the boat boy's and asked my friend how much he got paid. "About two-hundred baht a day," she said, "but you don't need much to live on out here."

Letters from Thailand

Bangkok, the eternal city, the city of angels... My plane landed late at night, and it took me some time to be processed through immigration and to the sathorn house. I've been staying with friends whom I've lived with before. They moved from where we were living to a new spot in the silom business district. Next to the house is one of the largest office buildings in the area. While most of the international businesses run down sukumwit, the silom features most of the international banks. Droves of office workers flood our small little side soi during the day to eat at the local side street restaurants. The steady stream of hungry proles has inflated the price of food around here from the reasonable price of 30 baht for a dish to 35 baht. Unbelievable!!!

I've spent the last few days since my arrival having sanuk. This has meant lots of clubs both at appropriate hours and after hours. I've spent two nights this week at the after hours club Wongs, which is located close to the sathon house, a short 40 baht ride. Staying up til 5 am drinking at a bar with friends is an outrageous amount of fun but has been damaging to having a regular sleep schedule.

Along with my exciting night life I've been running and exploring the area. The house is located close to Lumpini park. I've enjoyed running to the park and seeing the serene crab grass landscape. They have a handful of ridiculous exercise machines that are for public use. Old people tend to like the weird contraptions the most, I guess age makes one more excited for oddities.

Coming back to BKK has made me interested in Thai politics once again. A friend and I were able to check out the mass gathering around Central World today. With over 30,000 people attending the protest shows the obvious strength and continuing divide within the country. The protest was peaceful when I was there and mainly were people hanging out listening to Isaan music, and/or the speakers. Former Prime Minister Thaksin spoke at one point via a cell phone call, evidently the red shirts do conference calls. The protest was to commemorate the deaths of protesters last year. There was a violent class between the red shirts and the police in which 90 were injured or killed. There has been an interesting class aspect to the red/yellow shirt division with the red shirts being composed of the peasant class and working class within thailand while the yellow shirts tend to be more middle and upper class.

A friend and I were talking about the take over of space between the two colors. The red shirts have taken over a main center of Bangkok business shutting down the high scale shopping in the area. This impact of local/urban business can be juxtaposed to the yellow shirts take over of the Suvarnabhumi airport in eastern Bangkok. While the red shirts impacted local economy the yellow shirts laid seige to the national and international economy of Thailand. The seizure of planes at the airport damaged travel tremendously and Thailand's economy is bolstered heavily by tourism. Looking at the take over of space we can see the class/cultural differences between the two groups. For the peasantry the appropriation of an urban area can be seen as an attempt to claim a "right to the city," removed from Bangkok itself the peasants have a spectacular relationship to the city. Most of the capital is centred in the city while little goes out to support the areas in which they live. With the growing popularity of the internet in the Isaan area the peasants are gaining a virtual access to the city without a physical port to plug into. The yellow shirt acquisition of the airport was an attempt to wrest national power back into their hands, it can be seen as a "right to the state."

The economic impact of the airport take over and the occupation of the Central World area was roughly the same, according to my Thai friend, a native Bangkok resident. While the economic damage is the same the amount of time the two occupations took have been starkly different. The yellow shirts were far more strategically savvy by taking over the airport causing more damage in a week than the two month siege by the red shirts. The red shirts caused a fair amount of terror though as they burned buildings whilst the yellow shirts engaged in no property damage. This is a class difference as well, poor people are always viewed as more violent than the cultured and non violent rich, who merely engage in systematic violence hegemonically.

The violence between the two camps will probably continue on. This will be unfortunate in the coming few years as the health of the 85 year old King is in decline. The King's reign has been a benign impact on Thailand and his regency has been a visible stabilizer within the country during its series of coups and instabilities. With the death of the King a power vacuum will be created. The next in line is the unpopular second child of the royal family, a son. The stabilizing void caused by his death is also not talked about amongst the Thais as they revere their god status king whom has an Orwellian Big Brother appearance throughout the country and abroad (next time you stop in a Thai Restaurant $10 says there's a picture somewhere in the place with a picture of the King. If not you're probably not in a Thai restaurant).

Politics should be interesting out here to say the least.

While running regularly I haven't been training. Hopefully I'll get to that soon. In the meantime I've been catching up on some great music. My latina musical swami Chimatli has been posting some great jams of late. Kid sister throws some solid beats, while Deux has bitching electronic. I of course like the Sisters of Mercy cover that she put on. In addition to the jams from Chimatli I've been listening to some new electronica. My friend recently suggested Boys Noise. Boys Noise falls into the same camp as Bloody Beetroots, Dj Steve Aoiki, and Mstrkft. Arguably this new "hard" electronic is distinctively punk as noted by my homie over at Dead Time Pacifies.



Given my copious amount of free time I plan on keeping the blog updated regularly going back to my once a week production schedule. Stay tuned for more awesome shit!!!

Red Shirt Redux- From the Economist

FOR much of April and May, Bangkok’s Rajprasong shopping district was taken over by a raucous protest movement that was eventually quashed by the army. On Sunday, four months after that episode ended in bloodshed, the “red shirts” were back. Several thousand showed up to chant anti-government slogans, release red balloons, tie ribbons on lampposts and call for justice and democracy. If you squinted, and ignored the charred shopping centre torched during the clashes, it was a vision of the April demonstrations. But Sunday’s influx of protesters did not linger. By evening, the crowd had drifted away, having made their point: the red shirts are back.

Thailand’s prime minister, Abhisit Vejjajiva, has tried to push the tragic events of April and May into the background. He has appointed various committees to investigate the violence and to address social and economic inequities in Thailand. Officials tried to frame the red-shirt revolt as a power play by Thailand’s former prime minister, Thaksin Shinawatra, who has been accused of bankrolling the protests and inciting violence. Thailand’s economy has picked up steam, defying predictions of a downturn in the second quarter. Mr Abhisit’s supporters hope that continued growth and a large dollop of welfare spending will save him from defeat when parliamentary elections are held, sometime next year.

Sunday’s gathering was a riposte to such glib optimism. Red shirts are still fuming over their rough treatment by the army, which stands squarely behind Mr Abhisit. A popular slogan at Rajprasong was "Stop Killing People". Others made the point that though 91 people were killed, most of them at the hands of heavily armed soldiers, the army has shown no remorse. “We want society to remember that people died here. Everything the government says is one-sided,” said a middle-aged woman. As if to confirm her view, Thailand’s state-run broadcast media largely ignored the protest in Bangkok, as well as a large rally held in Chiang Mai.

The red shirts are no angels. Armed militants emerged from the shadows during clashes with troops; some of the dead and injured were soldiers, including a decorated army colonel. Low-level thuggery has often marred red-shirt protests in Bangkok and elsewhere. The charred shopping centre is a reminder of the chaos they unleashed on the capital's downtown in May. Many Thais are turned off by both the pro-Thaksin red shirts and their arch-rivals, the royalist "yellow shirts", who occupied Bangkok’s international airports in December 2008.

Mr Abhisit rode to power on the back of the yellow-shirt protest movement. He has failed to bring them to task for their transgressions, even while hundreds of red shirts were rounded up and jailed in May. Much of the movement’s leadership is in prison or on the run. Mr Thaksin lives overseas, and flits between countries on various passports, thumbing his nose at Thai efforts to extradite him over a politically motivated corruption conviction. He is among the red-shirt figures facing terrorism charges, though few expect him to stand trial.

Bangkok has been under a state of emergency since April, but Sunday’s protest was allowed to go ahead. That it ended peacefully may give the government room to lift the emergency when it comes up for renewal in two weeks. But that does not mean that the capital is secure. A series of bombings and attempted bombings have been blamed on militants among the red shirts. Thailand’s southernmost provinces have been under emergency rule for five years as troops battle a shadowy Muslim-led insurgency. That conflict shows no sign of ending. The national politics is coming to bear an uncanny resemblance.

Like a Natural Woman

As much as the portrayal of gender diversity has been provocatively acknowledged by Thai audiences, Teerawat Thongmitr of Shade of Divas ladyboy troupe still hope for changes for the better, and more doors of opportunity becoming available for transgenderists.

Shade of Divas PHOTO: YINGYONG UN-ANONGRAK

"While male and female actors are commonly cast as different characters in showbiz, when it comes to transgender or transvestite roles, not many producers care to cast the actors. They usually just take the same old actors, let alone adopt scripts that would break the stereotypes involved with the issue," said outspoken transgenderist Teerawat, who prefers to be addressed as Tina.

At the end of last year, while performing a small showcase with her friends in Udon Thani, Tina began to take such thoughts more seriously, and the result was the birth of talented ladyboy group Shade of Divas.

Comprised of members with different career backgrounds - emcee, fashion stylist, former ladyboy band member - as the leader of the group, Tina explained that the idea of the project was also ignited by the fact that she found great talent among her friends, and uniting as a group could possibly gain the attention of others and offer them a chance at success.

"Most people have had very little contact with transgenderists or transvestites, and they usually assume that katoey work only as make-up artists or cabaret performers," she said. "But, actually we exist in various corners of society. Every year, many of us graduate with good degrees or possess great talent, but there are only limited careers available to pursue," said Tina, who received a degree in Fine Art and works as a graphic designer.

Amatya ‘Lukpad’ Chaiyakam

"We hope to create a group or an agency for transvestites and transgender women. For those film or television producers out there, if you are looking for a 'unique' katoey character, you know where to go now," said Tina, laughing.

On top of their full-time responsibilities, members of Shade of Divas have continuously been bombarded with offers for gigs, from modelling to dance shows. According to Tina, for such a new and small project, the feedback has been beyond expectations. Earlier this month, Tina fulfilled her dream by impersonating her admired diva Christina Aguilera as part of a promotional campaign in Thailand for the star's new album. But her most coveted offer came when German theatre director Nir de Volff was in Thailand to stage his debut physical theatre at Patravadi theatre early this year.

"Together with some friends from Shade of Divas, I attended the auditions for the show," said Tina. "Luckily, I was offered the chance. The experience of being part of the show was amazing."

Entitled Ministry of Truth, the performance was inspired by the famous reality show Big Brother, and has gained rave reviews and filled audiences. Tina was allowed to be herself and offered her ideas in order to develop the script with the other performers.

"The show centred around a mixed group of Thais and foreigners who shared days and nights together in a house, with one to emerge as the winner. My role was to express my thoughts on being a transgender woman. I found it fascinating for a show to dig deeper in the issue of gender, going far beyond the usual portrayal of ladyboys. As my first professional acting role, it was a great challenge, but I was so glad to be part of it," said Tina.

Teerawat ‘Tina’ Thongmitr performs in the theatre production, ‘Ministry of Truth’.

"More importantly, while working on the show, I learned to appreciate foreigners in the way respect you for who you are, regardless of your gender. If you have good ideas to share, they will listen to you," she added, noting that although Thai society is amazingly open about issues of gender, there is still a gap in equality to be filled.

"Working as a graphic designer, there have been a few cases where clients seemed to have liked my ideas, only to change their minds when they learned of my sexuality," said Tina.

After the groundbreaking success of the performance in Bangkok, Tina and other cast members of the Ministry of Truth travelled to Berlin last week as the show was commissioned to stage under its new title, On Air, at Tape Pub and Gallery, with the premiere scheduled for Friday.

"I feel lucky to have been given the chance to go to Berlin, I will see if any opportunities arise out of the Shade of Diva performances," she said.

At the photoshoot, Tina introduced 'Outlook' to the magnetic members of the group. An owner of flawless skin, a petite body and a little voice, Amatya "Lukpad" Chaiyakam, who is rather hard to imagine as a boy, was the first to share her story.

"When Tina told me about the Shade of Divas project, I thought it was a great idea to be able to work with our friends and start a strong community among transgenderists and transvestites," said Amatya, who was crowned the first runner-up at Miss Alcazar in 2005 and the winner of Miss Alcazar Lip-sync Contest 2008, marking her name among the top transgenderists in showbiz today.

Tay ‘Taya’ Peeraya, known as Cool Venus during her days with Thailand’s first ladyboy group Venus Flytrap.

Born to a Chinese family with a father who once served as a soldier, Amatya has been through a tough time fighting for her identity.

"My family runs an elephant show in Pattaya and when I was a little boy I helped my family business by riding an elephant and being a tour guide for foreign tourists. I was really good at it and, at that time, my parents thought I was going to be the one to continue the business in the future," recalled Amatya.

"It was very difficult at first. I began wearing make-up during junior high school. My family, my father in particular, couldn't stand it. We would fight often," she said. "I was very obstinate, and he eventually realised there would be no turning back for me, and stopped fighting it."

After years of guilt, she finally made amends with her parents. While competing in the Miss Alcazar beauty pageant, she took to the stage and apologised to her parents for the past and thanked them both for their support and understanding.

"Now, my parents introduce me as their 'daughter'," she said, flashing her sweet smile.

Besides being a member of Shade of Divas, Amatya is among the top performers at the Alcazar, one of the leading cabaret shows in Pattaya.

On the other hand, another member Tay "Taya" Peeraya, has a different background story.

"I was blessed for never having to struggle to be who I am," said Tay. "My family has always been very supportive."

While completing her degree in Textile Design in Australia, Taya followed her friend to attend another renowned transgender beauty contest, Miss Tiffany, and ended up with the first runner-up title in 2005. Shortly after, Taya became a member of Thailand's first ladyboy group, Venus Flytrap.

"I have always love singing and dancing, so being part of the group has been a great experience," said Taya, who currently works as a presenter of an entertainment programme on cable network Live TV's Fame Channel.

This year, her contract with the group has reached the final chapter, however, with the emergence of Shade of Divas, and Taya hopes to be able to do more of what she loves doing with her dear friends.

While the group is waiting for the completion of its official website, Shade of Divas can now be reached at its temporary house, http://www.facebook.com/shadeofdivas. And, an opportunity for other transgender women and transvestites to become new divas is now open.

"Although, all our members have been through a beauty pageant, it is not a prerequisite to join the team. What we need most is talent," explained Tina.

"To make others understand and accept us, we must show them our capabilities," she added. "And one day, a change for the better will come. Who knows? In the future, a member might be the first transgender women to play a born-woman character."

Thailand gets bloody!

BANGKOK, Thailand — Behind a wall of stone-faced soldiers, the crowd howled outside the gates of the Thai premier’s compound.

“We will curse them, the aristocrats, the powerful people,” screamed Nattawut Saikua, a leader of a That anti-establishment street faction known as the Red Shirts.

“We will curse them with our own blood!”

And with that, men balancing jugs of human blood on their heads hustled through the sweaty throng and into the compound. Troops in riot gear allowed several blood porters to reach the ornate front gate, and moments later, it was splashed with gallons of coagulated gore.

This was the crescendo to a long-awaited reckoning promised by the Red Shirts, whose anti-government crusade has become a conduit for class frustration.

For five days, more than 100,000 followers of the largely upcountry, working-class movement have rallied in Bangkok. They intend to drive out a ruling party that they claim caters to “aristocrats” and enforces “double standards” against the poor.

As expected, Thailand’s Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva has not conceded to the Red Shirts’ calls for new elections. His party has instead deployed thousands of police and soldiers throughout the Thai capital.

To up the pressure, the Red Shirts have resorted to theater of the macabre.

On the evening preceding the blood curse, faction leaders requested 10 cubic centimeters of blood drawn from every healthy supporter. Their aim: 1 million cubic centimeters. The Thai Red Cross has objected, claiming that amount could save many lives.

But as dawn broke on Wednesday, the Red Shirts began an all-day needle drive that would instead donate blood to symbolic political targets.

To a soundtrack of soul-stirring Thai country music, Red Shirt leaders held syringes aloft for their faithful to see, shouting into microphones that “rule of the elites” would soon collapse. Each syringe was emptied into a plastic jug, swished around before a cheering crowd until it frothed pink at the sides.

“We’re not here to have fun or joke around. We’re not being caustic,” announced Veera Musikapong, an elder statesman of the Red Shirts. “We’re serious. And we shall take our blood, spilling it, spreading it into the soil beneath the prime minister’s compound gate!”

This blood curse can be traced back to Thailand’s 2006 military coup, the origin of the anti-elite faction’s outrage. That putsch deposed ex-Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra, an idol to many poor Thais despite his billions earned from telecom ventures.

Military leaders, and the current government, insisted his reign was incorrigibly corrupt. After military rule lifted, elections brought Thaksin’s political allies back to power — but they too were unseated two years ago under charges of vote-buying and graft.

The Red Shirts have coalesced Thais who feel the deck is stacked against them. They frame their ongoing rallies — including the blood-splashing campaign — as a “final battle” against a network of military top brass, connected politicians and advisers to Thailand’s royal family.

But while this message has gained momentum through their radio and satellite TV network, any effort to collapse the ruling party is unlikely to succeed anytime soon, said Pavin Chachavalpongpun, a researcher at the Institute of Southeast Asian Studies in Singapore.

“We’ve had final showdowns before,” said Pavin, referring to last year’s attempted government ouster led by Red Shirts that descended into brief rioting “This is supposed to be the final of the final of the final. But each showdown keeps topping the next one.”

Protesters splashed government offices with human blood. (Patrick Winn/GlobalPost)

Though free of outright violence, the blood curse campaign left government offices looking like the scene of a massacre.

After splashing white walls of the premier’s compound with blood, protesters marched to the ruling Democrat Party’s headquarters for the second act. Gallons more were emptied on the front steps until a chanting crowd stood in a sticky pool of red.

The remaining blood, leaders said, will be saved for an even bolder stunt: the blood-dousing of Abhisit’s well-guarded personal residence.

The Red Shirt leadership’s rhetoric has grown increasingly caustic. But they have so far prevented followers from stooping to police clashes or major property damage. The military has also shown restraint, replacing most soldiers’ assault rifles with batons and allowing protesters to claim parts of Bangkok as rally sites.

Security forces have even tolerated the blood curses, framed by Red Shirt leaders as a sacrifice symbolizing the toll extracted from Thailand’s have-nots. As their rally drags on, and numbers begin to dwindle, they have pleaded with followers to stick out this so-called “fight to the death.”

“I can accept death,” said Kit Somwut, a 62-year-old car salesman from Thailand’s Ayutthaya province. “We’re all ready to die for this. We are weaponless, but even if the soldiers come for us, we’ll fight back with peace so our grandchildren can know happiness in Thailand.”

Red and Yellow

I've continued to follow the reports about he political conflicts between the Reds and the Yellows. Recently there was an assisination attempt on a high level Yellow Shirt. I've looked more at the BBC and their coverage of the conflict. Its quite balanced unlike the pro-yellow "Nation" and the more moderate "Bangkok Post."

Here are some good links.

Who are the red shirts? Why do the yellows like that color so much?

Winners, losers and increasing tension...

The general lowdown...

Red Shirts, Songkran, and how politics miss every day life

The train stopped at the Bang Seu Station, a handful of kilometers north of Bangkok and about twenty or thirty kilometers from Hualompong the main railway station. I sat on my seat daydreaming, listening to music on my ipod and staring out the window. I was returning from a day long sight seeing trip in the old capital of Thailand, Ayuttyah. Three young men boarded the train. One of them shut the bathroom door located next to our seats.

“Dom mai dee (Smells no good),” I said.
“Chai, (yes) You come from where,” he asked.
“Brated America, Muang San Francisco (Country America, City San Francisco), I replied.
I looked at the three young men. They were about my age, shy a couple years and were prepared for some festivities. The Thai New Year had begun, a weeklong celebration known as Songkran. Held in the hottest part of the year Songkran is a celebration of water (no matter how dirty) and fun. While originally a time to pay respect to elders, family and tradition the holiday of Songkran is now more of a period of play. Gone are the days of pouring small bits of lustral water as an act of cleansing and renewal. There are still some traditional aspects to the holiday. Most Thais go home and oft a house cleaning is engaged in during the days off of work. The shift away from tradition means that the holiday is more fun loving .The more playful (majority of people) douse each other with water from squirt guns, hoses, and dump powder on each other at the end of Thailand’s hot season.

The three men were prepared to go to Pattaya to celebrate in Songkran there, they informed me. We sat on the train for a few minutes until the overhead speaker came on. The speaker announced that the train would be going nowhere. I didn’t gather this until all the passengers disembarked. I was one of the last riders out of the railed vehicle. I stood about with the young men attempting to decide what exactly to do. Eventually I was able to gather that the train had stopped due to the protests by the red shirts.

The political situation in Thailand is confusing. It’s as difficult to understand as seeing a single drop of water in a stream. I have a general idea of where the drop of water is going but don’t understand why it moves to and fro, from bank to bank, or what pushes it along.
The major political figure backing the red shirts, an anti-government group, is Thaksin Shinawatra, a name to be noted in recent Thai history. Thaksin bought his way into power establishing his Thai Rak Thai (Thai love Thai) party based on his fortune from telecommunications (from the Shinawatra corporation). Thaksin came into office with a landslide victory in 2001. He engaged in populist programs such as a universal health care program, which would provide service for a mere 30 baht (less than $1). Thaksin gained a large rural (Isaan) following through his political actions and the support remains present even after his coup.

In 2006 while Thaksin was visiting NYC, the military staged a coup, usurping the Prime Minister from his seat and establishing a military rule that would last until elections were held in December of 2007. Thaksin would be banished from his homeland until February of 2008. The insurgents proclaimed that Thaksin’s administration had been riddled with corruption and tax evasion.

After the reelections, in which the People’s Power Party (PPP) won a majority of the seats in the government, an anti-government group rose up to protest. The yellow shirts of early 2008 blockaded the major airports of Thailand shutting down travel and trade. They caused billions of dollars in economic damage due to their disagreements with the current government. They charged that the PPP was a puppet party for the exiled Thaksin and demanded new elections. A new coalition government was composed of the Democrat party and a new Prime Minister put into office, replacing Thaksin’s replacement.

The red shirts are Thaksin supporters. They want to see him come back into the country and back into power. They had blockaded several major highways and been involved in small scale rioting within the capital of Thailand. The red shirts had even attacked the Prime Minister’s car (while he was in the vehicle) causing the Prime Minister to declare the protesters to be violent and unlawful.

I hailed a cab with my other stranded peers and rode down the expressway to Ekkamai where they took a bus to Pattaya and I walked home. As I walked down the street I felt somewhat confused. The state of the nation was in turmoil, a state of emergency had been called by the Prime Minister in which the Red shirts were demonstrating, but here in Ekkamai life was going on as usual. Perhaps nothing was going to change, after all every day life was going on as is, I thought to myself.

The next day was the first day of Songkran. The official festivities were called off but revelers still took part in the celebration. As I walked down the empty streets of Bangkok I was occasionally treated to Isaan country music set to a techno beat. Small children played in garbage cans full of water dumping water on pedestrians. The pockets of people engaging in Songkran were spread out and the city seemed eerily quiet. While many people had gone home for Songkran for the holidays I assume that many stayed at home due to the state of emergency.
My housemates and I, eager to see “history in the making,” went up to the Victory Monument. The monument is an ode to Thailand’s participation in a brief Indo china war with the French. The monument was a site of contention between the red shirts and the army that morning. Many bus terminals used the area to transport the workers of the capital about town, by blocking the area with taxis and buses the red shirts had shut down some of the commerce of the city. Major news channels and sources reported that the red shirts had been throwing petrol bombs at the army. When we got there we were treated to the usual spectacular scene.
We walked on the street and walked towards a cloud of billowing smoke. The noxious black smoke arose from a series of tires on fire. The tires had been lit long before our arrival and burned in the empty street. Photojournalists took pictures of the small flames and of the rows of soldiers that idled nearby. The red shirts had long dispersed by the time that we got to the Monument in early afternoon. They had decided to draw back towards the government houses in south west Bangkok (the monument is located in the northwest). The soldiers looked bored as they touted their guns, eventually they sat down and had lunch.

Their desire for food called our stomachs to attention and we took a cab down to Khao Saan. While Khao Saan raod proper was closed down, again due official declarations, the side streets were alive with activity. People, both falang and Thai, dumped small buckets of water on each other. They aimed and fired with military precision on each other with high powered water guns. The merrymakers smeared chalk on each other’s faces laughing playfully at the muddy appearance of the crowd. It was a war of all against all with the victory going to the ones who had the most fun.

As the night wore on we decided to go home. Little had changed in the political situation. It was rumored that the red shirts would march onto the Democracy Monument. We decided to go to a dance pub near the Monument despite the pervasive talk of protest. We danced to old rock n' roll, including "Fruity Tooty."

The political engagements of the last few days have caused inconveniences, and some damage but have still revolved for the most part on the political stage, a stage separate from everyday life. Buses for the most part still run, taxis will still take you around, people still have to work and people still go out to clubs and go dancing. Some angry residents of Bangkok have begun to retiliate against the red shirts. Several attempts by the red shirts to incinerate vehicles have been stopped.

In a few days my bet is that things will go back to the banality.

Class divide?

Deep Divisions?

Back to the Banalities already?

Red shirts

AP press

BANGKOK – Thai soldiers sprayed automatic weapons fire into the air and threw tear gas to clear protesters blocking roads in the capital in the pre-dawn darkness Monday. Demonstrators responded by hurling at least one gasoline bomb and 70 people were reported injured, most by tear gas.

Police said anti-government protesters were stationed at at least half a dozen points in Bangkok, including the prime minister's office. Demonstrators used commandeered public buses to block several key intersections and they set tires on fire.

Monday's clash marked a major escalation in the ongoing protests that have roiled this southeast Asian nation. The skirmish came a day after the country's ousted prime minister called for a revolution.

While the government has declared a state of emergency, protesters controlled many streets in the capital Bangkok. They had earlier commandeered public buses and forced military vehicles to halt, in one case climbing on top of two armored personnel carriers, waving flags and shouting "Democracy."

A mob of the red-shirted protesters smashed cars carrying Prime Minister Abhisit Vejjajiva and his aides on Sunday. The secretary-general of Abhisit's office, Niphon Promphan, was dragged from the car and beaten, suffering head injuries and broken ribs.

The red-shirted demonstrators are supporters of ousted former Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra who want new elections, saying Abhisit's four-month-old government took power illegitimately. They also accuse the country's elite — the military, judiciary and other unelected officials — of undermining democracy by interfering in politics.

Parliament appointed Abhisit in December after a court ordered the removal of the previous pro-Thaksin government citing fraud in the 2007 elections. Thaksin supporters took to the streets in protest, and their numbers grew to 100,000 in Bangkok last week.

Monday's clash began between 4 a.m. and 5 a.m., as troops in full combat gear advanced to disperse the protesters, who were occupying a major junction, according to witnesses.

The soldiers fired hundreds of rounds from their M-16 automatic rifles, with Associated Press reporters saying most appeared to have been aimed over the heads of the protesters. The reporters saw protesters throw at least one gasoline bomb which exploded behind the army line and tear gas floated across the eerie dawn scene.

At the nearby Century Park Hotel, foreign tourists were seen rushing into taxis and heading for Bangkok's international airport.

Dr. Chatri Charoenchivakul of the Erawan Emergency Coordination Center said at least 70 people were injured, most of them from tear gas, while two soldiers and two civilians suffered from gunshot wounds.

Army spokesman Col. Sansern Kaewkamnerd said the protesters also used tear gas as well as "weapons" to open fire on the soldiers.

In another incident, the official Thai News Agency said three grenades, believed to be fired from an M-79 grenade launcher, landed inside the compound of the Constitutional Court. One exploded, causing minor damage, and the other two failed to explode, the report said.

Monday marked the beginning of the Thai New Year, normally the country's most joyous holiday. The Bangkok municipal government canceled all its festivities, but despite the rioting many Thais and foreign tourists began engaging in the ritualistic water throwing and general partying.

But in sharp contrast to the usual revelry, protesters set fires Monday morning that were still burning 1-1/2 hours later and retreated into side streets near the Din Daeng intersection, where there is an on-ramp to the main expressway leading north from the capital.

The clash appeared to be an isolated one, taking place several miles away from the main encampment of thousands of protesters outside the prime minister's offices.

Ousted prime minister Thaksin, regarded by most of the protesters as their leader, called for a revolution and said he might return from exile to lead it.

Thaksin fled the country last year, before a court convicted him in absentia of violating a conflict of interest law.

"Now that they have tanks on the streets, it is time for the people to come out in revolution. And when it is necessary, I will come back to the country," he said in a telephoned message to followers outside Abhisit's office.

The message was broadcast over a video link projected on giant screens and relayed on supporters' Internet sites. It was unclear from where Thaksin's call was made, but the former leader has been spending much of his time in Dubai.

Political tensions have simmered since Thaksin was ousted by a military coup in 2006 for alleged corruption and abuse of power. He remains popular in the impoverished countryside for his populist policies.

His opponents — many in urban areas — took to the streets last year to help bring down two pro-Thaksin governments, seizing Bangkok's two airports in November for about a week.

The emergency decree bans gatherings of more than five people, forbids news reports that threaten public order and allows the government to call up military troops to quell unrest.

Sansern, the army spokesman, said soldiers and police were being moved to more than 50 key points in the city, including bus and railway stations.

He said the military presence was not a sign of an imminent coup — a common feature of Thai political history.

Protests were also reported in several provinces of northern and northeastern Thailand. The protests could prompt the military to intervene — a high possibility in a country that has experienced 18 military coups since the 1930s.

The Sino Thai

Mike recently passed on a copy of "The Intimate Economies of Bangkok," by Ara Wilson to me. The academic book focuses on the "moral" economy of Thailand, that is the informal economy of exchange that happens between peers, and kins. She highlights working girls, the Central shopping plaza, Toms and dees in the MBK area etc. I think "moral economy" is a pretty poor term for her definition of non market exchange. She makes use of the term "gift economy" which is a bit more suitable although still not quite on the mark as the "gift economy" is oft tied up with regular capitalist economies.

I've read two sections of the novel. The first and more spectacular was about sex workers. She doesn't bring to light anything new for me. She explains that many sex workers come from Thailand's poorest region, Isaan. They are convinced to do sex work due to the ability to earn good wages thus fulfilling the girls desire to support their family at home (a cultural demand). Usually a girl will bring another girl into the job site rather than the bar hiring from an ad. Thus the girls create an informal peer network. Most of the bar girls come from the same villages, or regions in Isaan and encourage each other to work at specific bars. Wilson notes some of the rites that the girls go through, attempting to make merit and some of the tribulations (shame andpublic scorn for their occupation). I found that the chapter lacked backbone and insight instead was a cursory look at the spectacularized world of sex work here in thailand. I think its worth noting that most frequenters of sex workers are not westerners, but that relationship between the westerner and thai sex worker is the most highlighted.

The first section of the book which I read second describes the rise of the Central mall. The Central business corporation is part of a father-son business. The father was a chinese immigrant who worked in a rice store then moved into a house from which he sold his wares. The father was prosperous having over 20 children and three wives. The son then went on to develop department stores in Bangkok. The most noteworthy parts are about the fixing of prices and thus the shift from street side haggling and the shift from integrated business homes to a seperate locales for both.

"Fixing the prices of goods radically changes the interactions between sellers and buyers and requires less market 'intelligence' from each. The shopper need not be familiar with current prices and reputations or be skilled at negotions... This shift reduced the skill required of the female consumer, or 'housewife' and changed the aesthetics and experience of shopping. It also changed the work of selling, because the salesperson need not continually calculate profit margins (p.55)."

"The family's move away from the shophouse to a compound marked a shift from an old style of combined business and residence to a modern style that spatially separated home and work (p.59)."

"The point was to give shopping space its own unique identity as a place for consumption and nothing else." (william Leach writing of Macy's)

Thailand is made of a multitude of ethnic groups. Bangkok attests to this. Riding the BTS, walking the streets of On Nut, window shopping at Nana plaza, buying pad thai by the royal palace attests to the varying ethnic backgrounds of Thai people. Thailand is composed of a mix of Lao, Burmese, Cambodian, Indian, Malayasian and Chinese people, along with people who were originally in the area now known as Thailand.
This section of the book highlights the Sino-Thai of Thailand. The ethnic group made of Chinese Thai has migrated south from China for generations. Today they are associated with a burgeoning middle and upper middle class (Thaksin the bane of traffic goers in BKK is Sino-Thai) When I read about the growth of Central, I was reminded of "Letters from Thailand" by Botan, and translated by Berkeley's Susan Kepner. The novel is composed of letters from a chinese immigrant to thailand to his mother back home. The letter writer comes to Thailand as a young man and sets up a shop out here. Through his hard work and business savvy his business expands and his family grows. It is a story of masculinity, immigration, conflict of culture, of being chinese, and of being Thai. It is an excellent piece and one of the best pieces of literature available in English in and about Thailand.

Women in Thailand

Joop Joop

The party was held on some soi by the Phrom Pong BTS. Steven and I met up with Kev after having a beer and some fries at the ex-pat bar, The Dubliner. Kev was acting, hyphy, as usual. He consumes several large bottles of Coca Cola which supplements his ADD tendencies. Kev was hopping about on one foot anxious to get to the party to meet some Thai gash when we arrived. We walked down the soi that extended from Sukumwit. Kev blathered on about this and that, while I thought about how I needed to use the bathroom. We eventually made it to the small apartment in the bottom of a condo. We took off our shoes and entered the smoke filled den. The party was somewhat full with about 30 people in attendance. It was a mixture of Thais and ex-pats. There was a large table full of liquor and mixers. Kev and Steven quickly put themselves to the drink while I continued to drink my water. I watched the party slide through time as I passively sat in a chair. I stood up for a second and felt a burning sensation on my hand.

"Ow," I cried.

The woman who had burned my hand with her cigarette looked at me. "Oh, I'm sollee," she said. She then pointed at her cheek. "Here, here," she demanded. She kept pointing to the side of her cheek that was now turned towards me.

I was confused. What was she doing. Did she want me to kiss her cheek? She was the one who burned me. Was this some sort of weird Thai custom that I didn't know about. Wanting not to insult the young woman I kissed her cheek.

"Oh, ha! No I said look at this here," she said.

"Oh I thought you said kiss this here," I replied. I thought about apologizing but then decided to chalk it up to cultural differences. Besides it'd been a long time since I'd kissed a Thai girl.

Pregnancy

Siam Paragon is a large bougerois mall in the center of Bangkok. After multiple attempts to try and find each other, Laura, finally found me at the edge of the food court standing by a composed and grinning Ronald McDonald. As hunger had gripped my stomach we walked through the food court into the Paragon grocery store. I picked up some sushi, spring rolls, and a bottle of water while Laura grabbed some sort of pad thai dish. We paid for our meals and sat down to eat.

Laura came out here a week ago from Canada. She lived and worked out there for a year after coming out here to Thailand. Her initial trip was a disaster. She broke her ankle and her back and was confined to a desk job in Toronto. Geared on Muay Thai she sold her record collection and all her posessions to come out here and train. For some reason we started talking about relationships...

"I dated a trainer up north for a while," she said. "He was nice and I liked him. Then he had to go to Bangkok for a few months so the relationship fizzled out. I was pretty bored up north. I couldn't really do anything as my ankle was fucked up. I started to hang out with another Thai fighter. He was okay. He drank a lot. When he fought he'd lose. His head just wasn't right. When the trainer came back up north he kept asking me how things were between the fighter and I. I told him the truth. They were okay but not that great. The fighter was drunk all the time and wasn't super nice. I guess my exotic appeal was wearing off. A week or two later they both started talking to me about a fight up north towards Chang Mai. They said they were both fighting. I was excited to see them fight so I went up there. When the bell rang for the fight to start I saw that they were fighting each other! I didn't know which side to stand on. The first thing that happens is that the trainer walks up to the fighter and knees him in the balls. That was the end of the fight."

"Things between me and the fighter died out and I started hanging out with the trainer again. It was funny as right after the fight he poked me and pointed up at the stage then smiled. I couldn't believe these two guys just tried to fight over me. Anyways I kept hanging out with the trainer. We started having sex and we used a thai condom. It was the first time that I'd used a thai condom and I thought it was great! A few days later the trainer came to my place and asked me if I had bled yet. He showed up a few days after that and asked me again. Each time he asked he'd get really happy when I told him I hadn't. He had pulled off the condom when we had sex to try to get me pregnant. Luckily I didn't get pregnant."