New Blog: Let's Talk Politics

I've never been a very politically-minded person, but if anyone's been to this site lately, he'll notice I've been writing more and more about the political situation in Thailand - something which worries me a lot.

Maybe I need to take a break from news reports, but lately the goings-on back home have seeped into my daily life, filling it with discomfort and anxiety - and the desire to speak out about the topic.

To that end, let me introduce to you my new blog, Land of Smiles, which, at the very least, exists as a place for me to vent my thoughts and feelings before I lose my mind.

As I write in my first post, this blog is "an attempt to make sense of Thailand’s political turmoil, as well as to document the experiences of the Thai American community in Chicago as their homeland is in the grips of this mass unrest."

If the matter interests you, check it out and feel free to engage with me on the subject. If you have Thai American friends who are also concerned about what's happening, please shoot them the link. I feel like there's a lot of discordant information out there, and I'd like to process it with other concerned, conscientious people.

Thanks!

Land of Frowns, Part IV

As the situation in Bangkok looks bleaker each day, I'd like to share something that made me smile for once. It's a reception speech from an awards ceremony like the Oscar's, and I'm glad Thai celebrities are speaking out:



"Because [the role I played] had to do with fatherhood, I'd like to take this opportunity to speak about dads. Dad was the pillar of my household. This household was a large one, a very large one. Growing up, it was beautiful, beautiful and full of warmth. But before the household could be that way, my father's ancestors had to pour their sweat, pour their blood, and exchange their lives to build it. Even today, this dad tires himself looking after the household as well as the happiness of everyone in it. If there is someone angry - I don't know whom  - or dissatisfied with dad - for I don't know what - and takes it out on him; if he hates dad, if he scorns dad, if he wants to drive dad out of doors - I would walk up to that person and say, 'If you hate him, if you don't love him anymore: get out of here.' Because this is father's household. This is father's land."

I assure you, the speech is more rousing in Thai. On a side note, the man shown wiping his eyes is an old movie star, the heartthrob of my mother's generation.

***

Today I went with the Fine Arts Institute to hear the Thai ambassador speak at Wat Dhammaram in Chicago. They carefully avoided opening the floor to political questions until after the main event, probably because there were lots of children present. Later though, as most of us were eating lunch in the cafeteria, I heard a group of Chicago Red Shirts were accosting the ambassador. This was relayed to me by one of the other volunteers:

"I was in the auditorium just grabbing my jacket and overheard some of their questions. What they were asking was nonsense - sheer ridiculousness! 'When will the government stop killing the people?' I nearly raised my hand and said, 'Excuse me, but if the people would go home, do you think the government would follow and shoot you in your beds?'"

The Red Shirts got what they demanded last week - the government agreed to general elections in November - and announced they would accept the Prime Minister's reconciliation plan. The next day, however, they recanted and continue to occupy downtown Bangkok. Last I checked, they set a garbage truck on fire and burned piles of tires in the streets. Over twenty people have been killed in the latest round of violence - all of them civilians. So much for peaceful protests.

Land of Frowns, Part III

I'm browsing some opinion columns and editorials about the disaster in Bangkok last Saturday. I don't mean to play the same instrument over and over again, but the situation boggles my mind.

Says Atiya Achakulwisut for the Bangkok Post: "Today is the traditional Thai New Year. Deep in our hearts, Thai people may have wished that this divisive chasm of political colours could somehow be dissolved. These clashes of colour have, alas, resulted in a very sombre hue: black."

For The Nation, Sopon Onkgara writes: "It was a bitter night for all Thais on Saturday night...When the clashes started, they became ugly urban warfare bordering on full-blown rebellion."

Twenty-one people have died. Hundreds more were injured. People's livelihoods are at stake. And now there are suspicions a third - or fourth, or fifth - party was involved, neither Red Shirt or military, that sparked the violence. Who were they and what could they possibly want? When will the insanity end? How did the situation sink so low? And where's the solution?

"A bitter night for all Thais." Even in Chicago, I feel this. I feel for my friends and family, some of whom live within a few miles of the battle zones. A part of me wants to drop everything, take the first plane to Bangkok, and do something - donate blood or bring food to the injured in hospitals.

Thai people need to learn to resolve political issues without resorting to violence. Unifying leaders are out there - we just have to seek them out.

Land of Frowns, Part II

This just in: the Thai Election Commission voted 4:1 this morning in favor of dissolving the current Democrat Party.

The reason? The alleged reception of an illegal Bt258 million donation in 2005 from TPI Polene, a cement firm, as well as the misuse of a humungous  government subsidy.

The dissolution of the current government is, of course, what the Red Shirts have demanded all along.

The timing of all this is impeccable, considering the stand-off between Red Shirts and military personnel reached a breaking point Saturday, leaving hundreds injured and 21 dead on both sides - including a Japanese newscaster whose death is being probed by Tokyo.

I don't know what to think anymore. The allegations are a serious blow to the current government...and yet, I wonder what the alternatives are. The Red Shirts want new elections, but - in my understanding - have failed so far to name their candidates. (Similarly, they say they want amendments to the Constitution,  but I'm still waiting to learn what exactly these are.) When and if the Red Shirts do form an opposition party, I shudder to think what it might be like: their radical behavior in the past few months - disgusting, to say the least - disavows me of any trust in them. And are they not allies and followers of the fugitive Thaksin who, I think it's clear, does not exactly put the greater good of the country above his own interests?

These are troubled times. On the other hand, the following court proceedings could take months, and the current government was planning a six-nine month timetable for new elections anyway.

And hey, if I apply for the Fulbright next year, I probably stand a better chance of getting it. The Land of Frowns really doesn't have great PR right now.

The Land of Frowns

Suppose a mob of Illinois’ rural poor decides to storm Chicago to protest the government, whom they see as inattentive to their needs. Invoking their right to peaceful assembly, they converge on Daley Plaza by the hundreds of thousands, forcing major businesses and government buildings within a four-block radius to close. Another massive contingent barricades Michigan Avenue, shutting down the shopping centers and important tourists attractions as well. The Art Institute and Millennium Park are closed, and even the animals at Lincoln Park Zoo must be transported to other facilities. Traffic in Chicago is three times as bad as during the worst rush hour; the protestors have forced the closure of several major streets throughout the city. And, when a professor from UIC voices his disapproval, the protestors threaten to invade campus and halt university operations. At what point is their rally a valid form of civil disobedience, and when does it become domestic terrorism?

This is the situation today in Bangkok, my hometown. Composed mostly of Thailand’s rural poor, who accuse the current government of elitism and illegitimacy, an enormous mob of red-shirted protestors has Bangkok’s central tourist and financial district in a chokehold, using their right to peaceful assembly as a pretense for coercing the government to meet their demands. Leading them is billionaire business tycoon Thaksin Shinawatra, former prime minister of Thailand. Ousted from power in 2006 for corruption charges – among them tax fraud and embezzlement on a national scale – Thaksin has since been jet-setting around the world to countries such as Montenegro, Sweden, and Dubai to avoid a jail term at home while encouraging his followers to topple the current government, which was established by Parliament to take his place.

His rural followers, the Red Shirts – most of whom prospered when the billionaire was in power and could throw money at their communities – want new elections immediately. Their goal is to vote Thaksin’s allies into power, who would then acquit the fugitive of his crimes and thereby permit his return to office. Real democracy, indeed.

I assume that for most of you, this is all Greek, not having any background in the events or a stake in how they progress.  But for me, the unrest is like a cloud on my day: not only do I have family in Thailand, but the country also holds prospects for me as far as school and career plans go. Most of all, I am ashamed and deeply embarrassed by the behavior of my countrymen, and humiliated by the loss of face we have sustained. One of the world's premier travel destinations, Thailand has long been marketed as the "Land of Smiles," touting the supposedly friendly, laid-back, and deferential nature of its people. But with the recent decay of traditional social values, that image is increasingly false, and Thailand has become dangerously unstable.

Welcome, travelers, to the Land of Frowns.

Red Shirts, go home. Lobby your representatives instead of taking to the streets. No one believes your dribble about peaceful demonstrations; you have invalidated what otherwise may have been reasonable claims. You have become thugs and terrorists, and your fellow citizens are weary of you.

No more dissolutions of Parliament. No more Thaksin. No more Red Shirts. No more violence.

Taste the Difference

Thai food is rather vogue nowadays, with even major food chains touting "Thai-style" dishes - Noodles & Co. comes to mind, whose pad thai is actually quite good. This was hardly the case about ten years ago when, even though Thai restaurants existed in some number, Thai cuisine was not yet widely-recognized. These days most people I encounter have at least sampled Thai food; most have favorite dishes they can order by name.

However, with increasing popularity comes the need to cater to a broader audience, which leads to certain concessions in taste and use of ingredients. That, combined with the abundance of pan-Asian restaurants, fusion dishes, and packaged products masquerading as "authentically" Thai, has somewhat blurred Thai cuisine's "identity" in popular culture - a distinction that was perhaps not altogether vivid to begin with.

I bring this up because today my lunch-partner commented that Thai food is not much different from Chinese. Initially I was taken aback (in my typically nationalistic manner), but after my senses returned I couldn't blame him for the misconception.

The most popular and widely-recognized Thai dishes in the US - noodles and stirfries - confess a clear Chinese influence. The reasons for this are partly historical: in urban areas like Bangkok, people of Chinese-descent form a large portion of the population. Secondly, and more practically, noodles and stirfries are quickly prepared, appeal to tongues already familiar with orange chicken and chow mein, and package nicely in to-go boxes.

If you go outside the cities, where the population is more ethnically Thai (or our close relatives, the Lao), you'll find what might be more truthfully called "authentic" Thai cuisine: dishes like green papaya salad or minced meat tossed with lime juice and fish sauce. It's these dishes that have yet to win over the average American palette. And so, except for the aficionado, the food at local Thai restaurants may seem suspiciously Chinese.

If we define a region's cuisine as the way local and traditional ingredients are prepared, presented, and to some extent eaten, Thai cuisine is easily distinguished from Chinese. For example, Thai cooks use fish sauce over soy, and hoisin is virtually unknown in Thai kitchens. Instead, herbs like lemongrass, kaffir lime leaf, and galangal are more commonly found in Thai cooking. Finally, on a topical note, chopsticks are used in Thailand expressly for noodles and other Chinese-influenced dishes. Otherwise, tables are set with spoons and forks.

(I realize that using umbrella terms like "Chinese" is troublesome; of course I don't mean to say that I can make decisive generalizations about China's profusion of cultures and ethnic groups. My judgments are based on the "common fare" typical of Chinese restaurants and buffets in the US.)

However, my purpose here isn't really to expound on the intricacies of Thai cuisine. Instead I'll say that, ultimately, if Thai cuisine is confused with Chinese or other Asian culinary traditions in the American popular appetite, the fault lies squarely with the owners and managers of Thai restaurants, who are the primary transmitters of Thai cuisine into the US. If they do not strive to uphold traditional standards and make instead a sort of Americanized concession ("McThai Food"), Thai cuisine will inevitably lose the unique flavors that make it a joy to those of us who appreciate it most.

Finally, here's an excellent primer to Thai cuisine, categorized by region, by the Tourism Authority:

What the Fortuneteller Said

Her husband had been a high-ranking officer in the Thai military. As a result, she possessed a title like “Lady.” Given her family connections, I heard she read for a handful of politicians, and even once for an African queen on a trip to the Kingdom.

But despite all this, the kindly old Lady before me did not have the air of a minor celebrity, or even that of a general’s wife. With her puff of white hair and gentle demeanor, she could’ve been someone’s grandmother - which is exactly what I was told to call her. And when she offered to read for me, free of charge, I couldn’t easily pass up the chance.

***

We sat on opposites sides of a small fold-out table in the garden of her suburban Bangkok home. It was a little plot, surrounded on two sides by her house and on the third by construction. Her son, a soldier like his father, was having an extension built, she explained. As I made myself comfortable, the family’s pet, a rather large dog with shaggy caramel fur, slipped under the table and into the house, apparently taking no interest in me.

There was nothing particularly striking about my surroundings or about my host. Hers seemed like an unpretentious home, and she an ordinary woman. Grandma was no mystic. When her daughter and my mother were friends in college, Grandma had been a schoolteacher. She took up fortunetelling in retirement as a pastime, learning it from a woman who had read for her in earlier times. These arts have been handed down this way for generations.

Now Grandma performed the arcane numerical calculations for my date and time of birth, and drew the appropriate charts and figures. Into a little notepad she gave me, I jotted down bits and pieces of what the fortuneteller said.

Looking at them now, my notes are pretty skewed. It looks like I only scribbled down a word here, a blurb there, and focused little on chronology. But from what I can tell, Grandmother’s forecast for the next five years is a positive once: “Your stars do not fall,” she said. At twenty-one I can expect the “support of elders” and, at twenty-two, a “plot of land” becomes available. Groovy.

But what she predicted for 23 is really interesting. Of this point Grandma was quite sure: “Your fortunes lie abroad,” she said. “Your partner will be of a different race and language. She will have money and rank and wear a uniform. And though it’s rather late, your first opportunity for marriage will come when you are between 23 and 24.”

(Note: To “wear a uniform” is an old Thai way of saying someone is a professional.)

In normal conversation, Thai people rarely say “husband” or “wife.” Instead, we use a nonspecific word like “spouse.” Also, our third person pronoun doesn’t distinguish between genders. Of course, I don’t suppose Grandma would think I’m looking for anything but a wife. Even divination is hetero-centric. Perhaps a more PC-prophecy would read, “a significant domestic partnership with the person of your choice.”

“That isn’t late, Grandma,” my mom suggested. “For kids these days, getting married by 24 is early.” I had to agree. I think that, at 24, I’ll probably be the first of my friends to tie the knot.

“Well,” was Grandma’s reply, “if he should miss his first shot, his second chance won’t come until he’s 29.” Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me.

When our session was over, I asked the Lady how I cold repay her. “Don’t worry about it, dear,” she said, “but come visit again soon. Your mother tells me you’re a bit of a fortuneteller yourself. If you’d ever like to learn, I’d love to have student.”

I hope someday I can sit down with her, this kindly old Lady, and learn a bit of her old world wisdom. Maybe I’ll even bring my husband.

Imitating Art

"You and I have nothing that is ours," my mother said tonight as she drove us home from campus. Her eyes were fixed on the highway, but in the dark I knew she let a soft tear fall. "Remember it: as long as your father has a stake in things, that woman has a stake in it too. So I have to do this."

She paused to wipe her cheek before resuming. "What have I gained from him? Nothing. Only losses, like with that plot of land. I never thought one day the deed would say her name. All along your father said he had changed it to his. And why should I allow this?"
I didn't say anything in return but sat watching the streetlights pass by. The whole situation - the divorce, the rivalry between wives - reminded me of the first scene in Four Reigns, a modern classic in Thai. All of a sudden, the novel's opening lines began to imitate life:

"Their ferryboat was turning into the river Chao Phraya when Phloi's mother said to her, 'Pay attention to what I'm saying, Phloi. When the time comes for you to take a husband, make sure you find one with a single heart. Keep away from the great lover who must have many wives about him, or you will suffer like your mother.' A short pause followed before the advice was concluded. 'And you must never become any man's minor wife. Never. Do you hear?'
Phloi heard and, duty done, peered out from under the awning at life on the Chao Phraya...Stealing a glance at Mother, she said nothing. This was the first time Phloi had traveled so far from home. Her mother told her they were never going back there...that they had left it forever..."

A great TV production of the novel; after a long title sequence, the scene starts at 3:25.

Musing on the Monkhood

Not long ago I was taking the #8 bus to Boystown when I noticed a girl beside me speaking Thai. We got to talking, and the topic turned to when we'd go home next. She said she was waiting another two or three years until she got her degree. I told her I might go back next year - for my ordination. In fact, my mother had mentioned the topic about a week prior, and the plans were still fresh on my mind.

Ordination. Traditionally, all Thai men are expected to enter the monkhood at some point in their lives. Usually this is at the outset of adulthood, and the ordination is like a rite of passage for the young man. For a period of one to three months, he gives up his secular life to enroll in the sangha, the community of monks, and to follow an ascetic path reaching back thousands of years.

Traditional, however, doesn't mean I'm completely at home with the idea. It's strange to think of myself as a monk. To begin with, his life is austere. His days are highly regimented and spent in quiet contemplation, humble service, and meager settings. On the other hand, I am among the laziest, most unproductive people I know. I am messy, disorganized, and self-indulgent. I lack the discipline to stick to my own workout plans. And I am lustful. My head is perpetually in the gutter. But there are stories of men even more profane than me reaching Enlightenment. And I sort of think even the holiest men were like me once.

I've looked in the mirror before and imagined how I would look as a monk. After His renun-ciation of the courtly life, Siddhartha is depicted shearing off his long, princely hair as the first step in His journey towards Enlightenment. It is a symbolic act showing one's readiness to give up worldly things. I imagine my own hair shaved off, the hair I always fuss over, as well as the eyebrows I keep neat and trim each month. Without them, the face that stares back always looks strange and unfamiliar. But things like hair and eyebrows, I suppose, will be gone someday no matter how I take care of them. And this is the goal of monkhood: to develop a calm detachment to material things and an equanimity towards the transience of life.

The girl on the bus, however, looked surprised at my ordination plans. "Really?" she asked. "Why? You really want to?"

Her question caught me off guard, and I fumbled around for an answer. "Of course I do," I replied, not very convincingly. "Think of it as...preserving our old traditions."

She looked at me incredulously. "Really? That's strange, especially since you grew up here. Even people back home don't say that."

The conversation left me disappointed. Her reaction reminded me how quickly Thai society is changing as the younger generation turns away from its ancestral roots. It really bothered me that she asked why I would want to enter the monkhood. More and more, such practices are becoming seen as a holdover from an antiquated past, a practice out of place in a "modern" (and "Westernized"?) Thailand. I fear that in 10-15 years we'll be just mimes of other countries, our traditional practices surviving only in resorts and tourist brochures. And of course, my response didn't help. The monkhood to me is not a mere exercise in cultural restoration, and I should have told her that.

Part of me wants to be ordained to make my parents happy. Whatever the strain on myself, I could never deny my mother the joy of seeing her only son dressed in the yellow robes of the Lord Buddha. And I would be lying if I said a part of me doesn't feel compelled to join the monkhood to perpetuate traditional Thai values. Not a mere cultural exercise indeed. But along with that, I want to be ordained because I feel it's worthwhile to be ordained. If some time in the monkhood can instill some good in me, some discipline, some selflessness, or even some serenity, it will be time well spent. And maybe that's all that matters in the end - how I lived my life.

But perhaps I'm thinking too much about it now. Depending on my family's financial situation next year, we may not be able to afford flying both my parents and myself to Thailand and arranging the ceremony, which is typically a pretty big to-do. But one day, I will spend some time in the monastery, shaved head and all. I hope I can be a better person for it.