Pray for Rain

On Wednesday a potentially deadly confrontation flared up in the middle of a blocked highway near the old airport. Tensions were so high that some bystanders began calling loved ones to say goodbye, fearing that they would be caught in crossfire.

Thai soldiers stopped a large procession of red-shirt protesters from driving north out of town. The army leadership said later that they thought the convoy of red-shirt vehicles was likely planning to prevent groups of soldiers from upcountry from reaching Bangkok. Earlier in the week, troop trains had been temporarily been halted in the provinces by people sympathetic to the anti-government point of view.

So now here was another altercation, less than a week after rockets had been fired from who-knows-where, landing at a downtown sky train station and injuring several people. Everyone knew that the bullets on both sides of the highway standoff weren’t likely to be made of just rubber.

Our office was holding a meeting several hours south of Bangkok. A woman from my group, whose father had been sent to the highway scene for reasons connected to his civilian job, only learned how scared he had been when she saw several missed calls on her cell phone.

In the end, one soldier died, reportedly from friendly fire. The situation was only defused by a sudden heavy rainfall.

New Violence

Nobody died of protest-related violence for several days following the night of April 10, when twenty-plus (the original estimates were 8-18) protesters and soldiers were shot dead near Democracy Monument. The tension hasn’t lessened, but people’s nervousness has unfortunately started to seem normal. Nobody I know has been hurt, but nearly everyone I know expresses a mixture of discouragement and fright.

The number of protesters and soldiers standing off against each other have risen and fallen daily, but by and large they’re now concentrating in a known part of Bangkok. For most people who prefer not to be involved, that consolidation means clashes are easy to avoid. This part of town is several miles from where we live, and it’s not on the way to where I work.

Then last night explosions hurt several people, and killed one. I happened to be at a book club gathering. The host’s apartment was walking distance from the place where the person died. We didn’t hear any loud sounds, but in the middle of our meeting, suddenly everyone began to get text messages at the same time. We stopped talking and turned on the TV.

It emerged that the trouble was also quite close to the apartment of one of our members. She had left the meeting early because she wasn’t feeling well. A quick call reassured us that she had reached home safely, but there was definitely no going back to discussing the book we had all read.

Not since September 11th do I recall a topic being so close to the surface. The red-yellow-multicolor conflict is the kind of all-encompassing, unavoidable subject that you wake up to and fall asleep to. With a mixture of fascination and dread, you are lured to check the news often. Nearly all conversations here now eventually find their way to the question, “How will this all end?”

Improvement at Home

Jip’s low sodium episode ten days ago was unfortunately the worst one she has ever had, so she has taken longer than usual a while to bounce back. Luckily, it looks as if she will be as good as new, perhaps even better. The caregivers all report that she seems happier than before, and less married to her routines. Clearly the rough episode caused changes to Jip’s brain. The next few weeks will tell if they’re permanent changes, and if they’re as positive as they now appear.

Water Cooler

First day back at the office today after a trip to the U.S. and a long series of days off connected to Thai New Year. Politics of course dominated the water cooler conversations. Everyone I spoke to wishes that things would just return to normal, even though they know that there’s no longer such a thing. The balance of power has probably changed forever in Thailand.

Everyone is affected this time, unlike the other tumultuous episodes over the past couple years. There’s a heightened jumpiness, and more black humor than usual. Nobody wants a crackdown, but we all expect it. People’s feelings yo-yo between hope and dread.

Here’s another discouraging side to the standoff: lots of families are split over which side is right. I’ve heard several stories of adult children who can’t stand to talk politics with their parents ever since the protests began in earnest last month. One woman I know decided to go on a week-long meditation retreat rather than face her dad’s rants.

It’s another measure of how passionate people have become about the seismic societal shifts taking place. Everybody in this country is taught to respect mom and dad. Arguments, when they happened at all, used to be caused by money or love or alcohol—not by political affairs.

Recon

The sky train was up and running again today, allowing me the chance to get a bird’s-eye view of the site that for several days has been the center of red shirt activity. Very weird to ride past the big malls and see them shuttered. Normally the plazas outside these commercial centers are bustling with teenagers and tourists. Now they are packed with swaying protesters listening to round-the-clock speeches. Camped in the shady doorways of the malls are people resting on mats, taking a break from the sun.

Strange Times, Part Three

Bangkok streets were pretty quiet here today and yesterday. On buses and on foot in many parts of the city, I never saw a red shirt. The only demonstration I came across was a counter-protest in the center of Victory Monument. About 400 people waved Thai flags and held signs that said in Thai "Don't dissolve parliament" and in English "Stop red shirt violence" and "Stop hurting Thailand." I went past the street that leads to the major malls where the red shirts have now consolidated, saw traffic moving in every direction, but didn't walk down toward the epicenter for a closer look. For a couple of days the sky train has been running only through the stations at the far ends of each line. If you want to go to the center of town you have to find another way to go.

What comes next? The papers suggest that the courts may dissolve the Democrat Party. Officially, that move would be explained as punishment for some long-ago electoral infraction. Practically, it would be payback for a similar decision handed down against the parties that used to be in power before the current government was installed by the courts about eighteen months ago. Dissolving the Democrats would also offer Abhisit a face-saving exit: he wouldn’t be directly blamed for what has increasingly been described as a fiasco last Saturday night, when the army’s attempt to clear the streets of red shirts ended in bloodshed.

Strange Times, Part Two

As if times here weren't already weird enough, Jip had a setback last week that landed her in the hospital for four days and has taken some of her feistiness away. On learning the news, I flew back from the States a day ahead of schedule. Jip was lying in a special ward with a feeding tube up her nose. The caregivers were shaking their heads, wondering what happened to the Jip they knew. We're all missing the banter. Hope it returns quickly.

Strange Times

Headlines in this morning’s Bangkok newspapers are the most discouraging in a long time: “Thais Kill Thais.” Depending on whose reports you believe, the number of dead following a clash last night near Democracy Monument is either 8 or 18. Both the army and the red shirts lost people, hundreds more were hurt.

Thailand, nonconfrontational by nature, doesn’t do conflict very well. Historically, however, it has been quite good at compromise. Let’s hope there’s still time for that.

Midwest at its Prime

In the center of the U.S., it’s the best time of year to be outdoors. Atlanta was gorgeous last week when I was there for a work conference. Over Easter weekend at my parents’ house, I went for a couple of great runs, the kind where the weather is crisp enough that you feel you could go forever. Today, Michigan is in fine form. I’d forgotten many of the flowering plants I grew up with.

As pleasant as it is to live in Thailand, the April heat is no picnic. This dose of real spring definitely floats my root beer.

Blood in the Streets

Red-shirt activity picked up over the last couple days. The protesters scored a big PR victory this morning by pouring a few liters of a blood-like liquid into the prime minister’s driveway. Last night they did the same thing outside his office.

There’s lots left over—some reports suggested that as many as 50,000 people stood in line under a hot sun in order to donate 10cc each. No matter whether it gets used for anything else (somebody said an artwork is planned), the stunt made a big splash.

It worked on several levels. Blood’s color matches the protesters’ shirts. It symbolizes sacrifice. The spilling managed to recall countless previous struggles in which people gave up their lives, but it did so nonviolently. Newspapers all around the globe put the story on page 1.

Most likely this drama was dreamt up by well-paid image consultants. If so, they know their audience. The photo op began with a ceremony conducted by a white-shirted Brahmin priest, whose black-magic incantations I’m told appeal to the red shirts’ rural base. (The photo at right was stolen from a news website—I wasn’t there.)

Yesterday’s blood, which had been mixed with anticoagulants and plenty of disinfectant, was quickly mopped up by dozens of workers who were standing by, dressed for the party in biohazard gear. Today, buckets of rain happened to fall just as the protesters were emptying their liter bottles on the prime minister’s fence.

Health professionals were dismayed by the waste. Others said the displays would ultimately hurt the red shirts’ chances of achieving the power shift they say they want. To me the whole performance seemed like a big win.

Million Man March?

Things have been pretty quiet politically in Thailand, at least on the surface. No big protests, no elections to serve as flash points, no sign that the king’s health is any better or worse (he’s been in the hospital for nearly six months straight, suffering from what are always referred to in the press as respiratory ailments).

A couple weeks back the high court handed down a long-awaited decision on the seizure of Thaksin’s assets, many of which have been frozen in Thai banks ever since the coup that ousted him as prime minister. We’re not talking about chump change here—the sum under consideration was in the neighborhood of $2.3 billion.

The court’s judgment was very Thai. It split the difference. In essence the verdict was to let Thaksin keep his pre-prime-minister money and let Thailand keep his post-prime-minister money. What this does is make the country a tiny bit richer and Thaksin a tiny bit poorer. What it doesn’t do is heal the political divide in Thailand. No matter which side you fell on before the decision, you still have basically the same complaints after the decision.

Hence this weekend’s latest in a series of “final showdowns,” attempts to rally wearers of one shirt color or another in support of a new government. One such showdown by the yellow shirts, at the airport 15 months ago, achieved the desired result. Now it’s the opposition red shirts’ turn. They threatened to tie up traffic at several points around the city. People took them seriously: everyone worried enough on Friday about clogged roads that many offices, including mine, urged everyone to go home at noon.

The next day, the streets and sky train seemed eerily empty, as if people thought they might get caught in some kind of crossfire if they went out. At the restaurants where I ate lunch and dinner, the staff were delighted to finally see customers. The rallies, which were held far from where we live, reportedly attracted nowhere near the million people that organizers hoped for. Maybe a million people were scared into staying home and off the streets?

Trust in Allah But Tie Up Your Camel

This is a story about suspicion.

It takes place on a Saturday morning in Bangkok. Thai post offices close at noon on Saturdays. I show up with five minutes to spare. My fat manila envelope is addressed to a nice couple in Seattle. These folks have told me in past letters that they’re stamp collectors.

I ask the guy at the window not to use the postage meter like they usually do these days. “My friends like to see the Thai stamps,” I say. He weighs the envelope and lets me know how much. His colleague stands near the door, waiting to lock up.

“All set,” he says, handing me my change. Only problem is, he hasn’t put on the stamps yet. Paying for stamps in Thailand isn’t a guarantee of getting stamps. Somebody told me once that you shouldn’t leave the counter until you see the postmark applied.

I’m thinking: should I stall?... nobody is behind me in line… I’m the last customer… If I hang around, it’s going to look pretty obvious that I don’t believe this guy is honest… yet I should verify... I want my friends to get this package, which took a while to put together… and the price wasn’t cheap.

I bend down and reach into my backpack, pretending to look for something, hoping he’ll start reaching in his drawer for the stamps. Instead he gets up, walks over to another window, and starts talking to the guy who’s totaling up that till. Now I’m sure I’m being cheated. They’re probably all in on the scam. The one near the door signals that the office is getting ready to close.

Next I fumble with my reading glasses, as if I need to get them sorted out before I move along. The stamp seller returns to his window and fumbles with something I can’t see, as if he needs to tidy up his desk before he moves along. Nobody says anything. I feel like all eyes are on me. The word in Thai for “postmark” escapes me, so I don’t ask.

Just as I’m about to stand up and demand to see my package, he holds it up. Every square inch, except the places where I wrote the addresses, is covered with stamps. All of the denominations are different. There are no duplicates. It suddenly hits me that the guy had gone over to his buddy’s window to get a few different issues to add to the diversity.

I’m standing there feeling like dog crap as I look at his artwork. It’s a beautiful gift from a Thai civil servant to a couple he has never met on the other side of the planet. We both smile really wide. No hard feelings.

Pick Your Own Definition

Longtime expats here inevitably develop pet theories about the differences between Thailand and wherever home used to be. A Brit I met on a Siam Society trip earlier this month likes to talk about what he terms the respect continuum.

His idea is that Easterners and Westerners often find themselves on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to privacy and tolerance. For example, it’s not unusual here for a late night party to intrude on others’ personal space—loud music after hours doesn’t lead to calling the police, as it might in the West. The Thai attitude in this case is live and let live.

This fellow calls that attitude disrespectful. But he also knows that Thais mean no disrespect when they engage in community fun that compromises others’ “rights,” such as the water throwing that happens every year at Songkran. He might even admit that being alone here is rare, and considered something to be avoided if possible.

Furthermore, he admires what he feels is a high acceptance in Thailand of people who are different from the norm. He says Thais are much more willing than Europeans to show consideration to gays, different religions, foreigners, and so on. As Aretha sang:

R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Find out what it means to me

Gotta Start Somewhere

Jip’s caregivers are trying to eat healthier. I have to smile listening to them talk about it. Right under their noses is somebody who always gets her 5 to 9 daily servings of fruits and veggies, who loads up on fiber every morning, keeps her total fat intake way under a third of her total calories, and regularly eats sources of omega-3 fatty acids. Jip could pretty much write the handbook on nutrition.

Yet for her caregivers, turning over a new dietary leaf means daily doses of chlorophyll liquid supplement. According to the label on the bottle, chlorophyll is a good “odor neutralizer.”

(To be fair: lots of Thai people have fallen into poor eating habits over the past couple of decades. Especially in urban Thailand, fast foods and suspicious snacks are much more readily available than during my first trip here in 1986, when I recall the opening of a Dunkin Donuts shop being a huge deal. Back then, more people ate more like Jip does now. Today, Ministry of Public Health Ministry people always tell our office that while they appreciate the U.S. assistance with infectious diseases, their bigger concerns are diabetes, obesity, heart disease, and cancer.)