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Its Relation to and Alienation from Indigenous Culture Chamnongsri Rutnin Hanchanlash Illustration : LittleLark Introduction When invited to speak at this conference, my immediate response was “Are you sure?” I am not an academic and not used to speaking at formidable international conferences. Then I thought, maybe I do have some qualifications - after all, I am the grandmother of 6 international school students (four different international schools). Moreover, I myself belong to an adult generation of ' Third Culture Kids' , as sociologist/anthropologist Dr. Ruth Hill Useem defines those who have “spent a significant part of the developmental years in a culture outside the parent culture.” [1] My grandchildren, each one of them a 100 percent Thai, are aged 3 ½ to 12 . And like most grandmothers of this era the world over, I don’t have much say in my grandchildren’s education. My opinions on the subject have always been greeted by my children with filial smiles of affectionate tolerance. It was with s unmotherly relish, I announced that I had been invited to speak at the Annual Conference the European Council of International Schools. Now, that was greeted with unfilial astonishment and budding respect due to the fact that all of the 4 couples’ children are scattered in 4 different international schools in Bangkok. Having reiterated my qualifications I shall go on to describe an overview of the International Schools scenario in Thailand with regards to homegrown Thai students, the attitudes of parents and the government, then discuss what I see as the emergence of the culture for which I have coined the term ' International Cultural Overpass'. On this International Cultural Overpass are the 'Fourth Culture Kids' which is a term by which I would like to call children who, like my own grandchildren, are local kids living in their parents' culture but attending international schools whose curriculums are western-based and taught entirely in English by teachers who hailed from other cultures. I shall then take a look at the International Overpass Culture, its relationship to and alienation from the indigenous culture – I prefer to use the word ' indigenous' to the word ' local' in this context. With a country with a long history whose root culture delves deep, the word ' indigenous' is obviously more appropriate. I shall conclude with what I regard as very important – the new culture’s potential or possible impacts on the social and political aspects of my country in the next generation, and suggestions regarding ways that might to some degree strengthen the relationship to and decrease the alienation from the indigenous culture. I have reasons to suspect that my presentation today may to a large extent be relevant to other Asian and African countries – of course, with variations and differences depending on the cultural and historical context of each country and region. Background At the present time, there are 70-80 international schools in Thailand – most are registered as members of the International School Association of Thailand which was founded in 1994 and is now working closely with the government to establish criteria for quality assurance. Before 1991, there were only 5 international schools. Their purpose was to educate sons and daughters of foreigners stationed in Thailand – mostly members of the foreign diplomatic and business communities (and the military personnel’s families during the Vietnam War). The Thai Government did not allow these schools to accept Thai nationals with the exception of the children of Thai diplomats who had been stationed abroad. (Only one school was designated for these children – Ruam Rudee International School .) In 1991, however, the restriction was eased. International schools were allowed to accept Thai children, but only up to 50 % of the total enrolment, though Thai nationals had to take a minimum of 5 periods (or 2 ½ hours) a week of Thai language and culture. Why this change in policy? The economic boom of the late 80’s to mid 90’s had brought the government face to face with the fact that children from wealthy families were being sent to schools abroad in great numbers, the most popular being the U.K and the U.S. Those who could not afford the expenses or wanted to keep their children closer to home would choose schools in Australia, India, the Philippines, Penang, Singapore or Hong Kong. Fluency in both spoken and written English was the main quest. But several well-educated parents, my own children included, also cited dissatisfaction with the general format of the Thai education though they still wanted their children to remain close to them. They rightly felt that western education was more stimulating and encouraged analytical thinking, and that it would open doors to leading western universities which, in turn, would lead to wider opportunities in a global world increasingly dominated by business, communication and technology. The Government’s easing of the restriction was to lessen the tremendous outflow of funds and the separation of children from their parents and the environment of their native land. The eager and positive response of Thai parents, together with the fact that Thailand had become a prime Asian base for multi-national companies which led to a dramatic increase in the number of expatriate families, spurred dramatic growth in the number and size of new international schools in the past decade - several of them breaching official rules by accepting up to 75 % Thai nationals. For the moment, the government is deliberately turning a blind eye while actively planning new alternative - Thai schools with ‘English Programme’ of which I shall refer to again later. The project is still in its experimental state. It must be noted that the Thai or half-Thai children attending international schools are children from families with affluence, and in a great many cases, influence – politicians, bureaucrats, business executives, media figures etc. Many of the parents in such families are themselves Third Culture Kids, and many are unhappy with the quality of the conventional education in Thai schools and the slow pace of the educational reform. When their children were ready for kindergarten, my son and daughters had agonized over the dilemma – should it be Thai or international? All opted for the latter, and are happy with their choice except for the Thai language question already discussed, the potential loss of much of their children’s 'Thainess' , and the costs. As James Cambridge very aptly described the purpose of international schools in his article ‘Identifying the Globalist and International Missions of International Schools’ : We may interpret international education as a product or service consumed by two client groups, comprising the globally mobile workforce… and the members of the local economic and social elites in countries around the world with aspirations to social and global mobility. What unites these client groups in a disinclination to use the indigenous educational system… International Cultural Overpass Watching all this from the vantage point of an international school grandmother (grandmothers are in a position to stand back and observe with calm detachment – untangled in parenthood’s webs of career, PTAs, grades and whatnots), I see a very interesting emergence of a culture that belongs to a new generation of the affluent minority of Thai youths, who while growing up in their native country, are immersed in the learning environment of western-curriculum-based international education in the subjects are taught in English and by foreign teachers. I discussed my ideas with Mr. Andrew Bartlett, who chairs the Parent Association of the Prem Tinsulanonda International School in Chiangmai , which is the main northern city of Thailand, and he kindly made notes on various points in our discussion, here I shall quote from some his notes: …Over the last 40 years or so, Third Culture Kids (sometimes called “Global Nomads”) have been the subject of Ph.D. theses, conferences, popular books and websites… Much less attention appears to have been given to what happens when local children attend international schools…. The question we must ask, however, is what kind of culture do these children acquire?... This brings us to the theme of my presentation. In Bangkok, the building of elevated toll-collecting expressways began about a decade ago. It has expanded into increasingly larger networks high up and over-passing ground traffic and pedestrians. They are used by those who have the means to buy automobiles and pay the toll. When driving on these expressways, one can drive fast and unhampered. If one looks down, one may get a downward view but it is only a ' view' , a virtual reality, not life contact or participation in the living reality of what is going on below. These expressways are linked to the ground with entries and exits. Without the links with the ground level the elevated traffic, no matter how fast and free, would have no roots or any real destinations. So, it dawned on me to use the term ' International Cultural Overpass' to represent this new culture to which all of my own 6 grandchildren will undoubtedly becoming a part. The parents can be said to be the entries, which can also be regarded as the main and most important link to the indigenous roots. Many Thai parents are, however, working so hard to build up their family financial stability as well as to finance their children’s schooling that they do not have much energy or time for meaningful experiences with the children. Having spent an uninterrupted 6 ½ teenage years in England, going to an English boarding school, living with an English family, I can be regarded as one of the groups that are precursors of the emerging cultural overpass generation in Thailand. But there are significant differences, however, the main and foremost being in regard to the in-depth literacy and fluency in self-expression in Thai mother-tongue - and what comes with it. My own education, like that of the great number of other Thai Third Culture Kids who were sent to school in western countries in their early teens or pre-teens, began in a Thai School in Thailand with Thai curriculum, Thai teachers and Thai learning environment. In fact, I went to a school that prided itself on traditions and culture, being founded by the Queen Consort of King Rama V towards the end of the 19th Century. English was taught as the ‘so-called’ second language – so-called because the few hours per week of ‘English’ were taught by Thai teachers whose proficiency in the language was far from high. By the time I left for England, I was familiar with the Thai language, both spoken and written. I was already at home with all its quirks and nuances. My father sent me to England at the age of 12. He put me in an English family for 6 months to familiarize myself with the English language before going on to a boarding school in Hampshire which had only half other foreigners beside myself – an English girl with a gorgeous American mother. Another foreigner, a Portuguese joined a year later. During 6 ½ years, I visited Europe but never came home, and met other Thai people only very infrequently. I grew to love England, its flowers, its people, its literature, it stage plays and, yes…believe me… its food. It can be said that by the time I came home after passing GCE A level, England occupied a tender niche in my heart, and the first paper-back publication of my writing was an anthology of poems and tales written in English. For the first fifteen years or so after my return to Thailand, I felt that, for writing, English was my emotional language while Thai was my practical language – I was good with both but excelled at neither. The balance gradually came with use – and I taught myself to type in Thai (much more difficult than in English) after the age of 50. With the early years of schooling up to adolescence, the Thai language and the living indigenous culture had been ingrained in me. From a very young age, I had read Thai stories, verses, biographies, history books. By the time I left for England, I had absorbed the beauty and the spirit of the Thai language and literature with all its idiosyncrasies and nuance, light and shade, rhythm and hues. I could read with speed as well as an understanding beyond mere denotative meaning of the printed words. My grandchildren and their Thai peers in international schools in Thailand, on the other hand, started their education in Western-based English language international schools in Bangkok from kindergarten and will most probably continue until graduation with an International Baccalaureates, or GCEs. The youngest of my grandchildren is now 3 ½ , he is already a student at Harrow International School in Bangkok in his white shirt and Harrow tie. These Thai students have only five sessions a week of Thai classes taught by Thai teachers – the Ministry of Education has made it compulsory for students who are Thai nationals. But to all intent and purposes, Thai language classes are ' a second language' kind of a class, because English is the academic language used in lessons, discussions, researches, essays etc. This is unconsciously absorbed by the children and the Thai language becomes to them the mother tongue that is not really ' all that necessary' for intellectual development. Despite his parents efforts including the hiring of a teacher to give out-of-school lessons in reading and writing Thai, my 11-year-old grandson’s Thai is not really good enough to read my books with ease. Where reading and writing is concerned, English has become his first language, his mother tongue his second. The same applies to his 10 years old sister, who is an avid reader- in English. Do I worry over this fact? I must admit that I do. Without speed and fluency, they won’t be able to dig in and enjoy reading books of any depth or length in their own mother tongue. As they grow older, they will have less and less time to spend in improving the skill – after all, there are already so much to do with school work, so many books they want to read, all in English, of course, because that has become their world. While they become well-versed with the works of Shakespeare, Thoreau, Hesse, Frost and even Gandhi, they cannot help but lose out on ideas, thoughts, feelings and other subtleties that are shared and exchanged by the main body of the Thai people be it through columns popular press, critiques, articles as well as contemporary or classical literature of their own country. Because, as Mr. Bartlett puts it, The difference between Thai and English is more than just a difference between two sets of vocabulary; it is a difference between two ways of understanding the world… My best-selling book in Thai is titled 'Boats in Mid-Ocean'. It traces my maternal family from the turbulent days of China in the late 18th Century, its migration to Thailand in the mid-1870s, its gradual assimilation into the fabric of Thai society, its dramatic and substantial role in the economic and political history of 20th Century Thailand. As things are, this book will most probably not be read in its original version by my own grandchildren in whose veins courses the blood of the ancestors whose successes and failures, weaknesses and strengths, heroism and poignant tragedies are told in the book authored by their own grandmother. There is a certain poignancy in that. Yes, it is most probable that they will be reading it in the English translation which I am editing and revising so that it will be suitable to western readers. So inseparably interrelated is language and culture. Here I would like to explain culture as I myself see it. I would like to roughly divide 'culture' in to three layers for the purpose of making this talk more easily understandable. Firstly, the experiential layer, the visible and audible aspects of culture, such as dress, classical and folk dances, art, music, festivals and ceremonies. Secondly, the intellectual level , those aspects of culture related to the conscious mind, such as philosophy, beliefs, traditions and ways of thinking. Thirdly, the involuntary level , those aspects of culture related to the subconscious mind which manifest themselves in reactions, attitudes and feelings. The first layer of culture is the one that is most obvious to foreigners; it is the kind of thing that is often utilized in travel promotion campaigns, and can easily be learnt by all students at International Schools. The second layer can also be learnt at school, but I would argue that it requires a level of language ability that is absent in most International Schools in Thailand. The third layer of culture cannot be taught. It is a product of immersion in the local community, the result of living with a group of people who continuously demonstrate culturally-specific attitudes and values. (Parents are, to varying extents, the source of all three – varying according to the depth of the cultural depth of the parents themselves, the quality and amount of time they can spend with their children, the intra-familial relationship. Be that as it may, the influence and ambiance of schools are undeniably formidable.) I am sure that there are other ways to classify the different aspects of culture, but I hope that my description of cultural layers will help us to distinguish between what International Schools in Thailand are already doing (first layer), what could be improved (second layer) and what cannot be done (third layer). Having once been invited by some Thai teachers at one of the top international schools in Bangkok to an hour of discussion with a group of Thai 6th formers, I found that they were all intelligent teenagers who are extremely interested in what I, as a Thai writer, Thai thinker, Thai social-worker, Thai Buddhist meditator think, what I feel on various questions. Their questions and interest showed that there was pride in being Thai as well as a thirst for knowledge and lively interest in ‘Thainess’ that lies deeper than just the obvious so-called things Thai in everyday life. The second and third levels of culture were they were trying to get at. The hour seemed too far, far too short. I actually experienced an uncanny feeling that I was among young foreigners living in my country – foreigners who love the country and the culture rather than young natives, their ‘Thainess’ being so much on a conscious level. In my mind’s eye I saw them as the Fourth Culture driving on the ‘international cultural overpass’, still caring and looking for links with the realities of the ground traffic. Later discussions with the Thai teachers gave me clearer insight. Some of these 6th formers were of half-Thai parentage, while others were of purely Thai. The whole of their school-life, which is no less than ¾ of the young lives, the Thai people they met were one or two Thai language teachers, secretaries, the office personnel, janitors. Academics and intellectual aspects were the area of teachers who came from other cultures than their own. Culture is something you grow up in, belong to and are not really conscious of. In Thai there is a saying that “Birds do not see the sky, nor fish the water”, not unless the bird is plucked out of the sky and the fish is taken out of water. James Cambridge states in his article that: …The problem may be that international education enhances and celebrates cultural diversity in its exotic and peripheral component – the so-called ‘sambas, saris and steel bands’ aspects of culture… It appears that International Schools are focusing on the first layer of culture, and rarely addressing the second and third. On this point, Mr. Bartlett , wrote to me that: …In the past, my daughter’s school has made a big thing about celebrating Loy Krathong (Festival) [2] , but very little has been done to help students – Thai and foreigners – gain a deeper understanding of Thai Culture.. The international schools teachers cannot be blamed for this – most are expatriates who usually stay in Thailand for only two to four years. For the most part, they find it natural to socialize with fellow expatriates. This is again understandable, because, while Thais are generally resilient, good natured, hospitable and friendly people, they have a deep-seated lack of confidence when dealing with foreigners. I have heard many expatriates say that while they are accepted and are treated with great generosity and warmth, they are accepted only ‘as foreigners’. Within one year, at least two expatriate ladies, the wife of a diplomat and the wife a business executive, said to me that Thailand is the country where they are endlessly entertained, wined and dined – but they had very rarely been invited into Thai homes. Not surprisingly, the foreign teachers are often unaware or alien to the true and in-depth social skills or values of the indigenous Thai and therefore, unable to cultivate them in the Thai students. After all, culture is what one grows up with, or absorbs naturally over a long period of assimilation. The teachers do, however, posses their own social skills and values, which may be what the Third Culture Kids want and need, and which are unarguably enriching for the Thai Fourth Culture kids in their role as global citizens in an increasingly global world. But they still do vitally need more equipment in their social tool box to negotiate the bends, curves and quirks in the ground traffic when they are not driving on the overpass. To reach a meaningful destination, they must have the navigation skills and familiarity with terrain of the ground traffic. Besides, the overpass must have strong and adequate links with the roads below. The most significant link beside the family is the in depth literacy – native fluency in writing, as well as reading – in the mother tongue because it is the instrument of communication and understanding. It is somewhat sad to live in your own country without being able to read the columns that are read by tens of millions of your compatriots, cannot contribute your thoughts or opinions in writing to share with them, not to be able to peruse legal papers that you might have to sign. I have done and read enough translation to know how much between-the-line richness and connotations can be lost in translation. Here, I shall again quote from Mr. Bartlett’ s note of our discussion as his English is far more expressive than mine: …Rich and influential families have, of course, always sent their children to elite schools. These children have never received the same education as the average Thai child. But they have received a Thai education. By contrast, the new generation of Fourth Culture Kids receive something quite different… The Fourth Culture Kids acquire knowledge, attitudes and values that makes them feel ‘at home’ with foreigners, but can also set them apart from the majority of children of their own nationality… Many of these Fourth Culture Kids will follow their parents and become leaders in Thai society. And this is how he kindly put my core questions into good, concise English: Will they share the aspirations of the electors they are supposed to represent? Will they understand the attitudes of the workers they are expected to manage? Will they be able to identify, analyze and act upon the social constraints and opportunities that surround them? I used to argue about ' values' with my husband also a Thai Third Culture Kid who spent his formative years in France where he received Doctorate degree in International Law. A firm believer in “universal values”, he agrees that there is no such thing as ' universal culture' , and endorses my concept of ' International Cultural Overpass' and Fourth Culture Kids. As Regional Director of an International Organization for 17 years, he had to deal with colleagues from a wide variety of cultural backgrounds. While they had common social values, he needed to be more fully aware of the cultural background of each of his colleagues when discharging his responsibilities. Possible Future Scenario I would like to present three possible scenarios of what might happen in Thailand, in perhaps the third decade of the 21st Century, if the links between the international overpass and the indigenous culture are weak and far between The first scenario grows out of my fears that my country will be like a big ship with a small number of those charting the course at one end while the vast majority of the passengers and much of the navigation crew is at the other end. Though on the same ship, they have different perspectives, communicate on different channels, read news from different papers. If the ship were to runs into an iceberg, like the Titanic, would it break in the middle? The second scenario was presented by a friend in her late forties – she is a well-known prize-winning writer, a poet, and a historian. In her student days, Jiranand Pitpreecha played a prominent role in the overthrow of a military dictatorship regime in an episode 1973 regarded as an important turning point in the history of democracy of present day Thailand. Jiranand painted another possible scenario. She thinks the number of the Fourth Culture Kids will still constitute a percentage too small for them to become political leaders, they will have too small a support due to their alienation from the core culture of the country. Rather, she fears that the gap between the international cultural overpass and the cultural ground traffic will engender an aggressive neo-nationalism in reaction to the small privileged group. In the political sphere, the Fourth Culture Kids might, at best, end up as advisors or consultants of political leaders rather than becoming leaders themselves. Their real place, however, will be in the multi-national corporations. My husband suggests the possibility of a third scenario in which Thailand will be absorbed into the global culture. Though the core culture will remain, a layer of the living Thai culture will evolve with the globalization process and, in the course of time, help rationalize the globalization process and facilitate the integration of different civilizations. The greatly proliferated number of Fourth Culture Kids all over the world will be driving on a far-reaching network of international cultural overpass that will serve international understanding and mediation. You see, my husband is well-known for his unquenchable optimism. He admits, however, that such change will only marginally effect ' core culture', and a Thai will remain different from a European or an American in terms of attitude and habit - and from other Asians, too, to a lesser degree. From the point of view of Thailand’s social strength and stability, however, he agrees with me and most of my socially committed Thai friends and colleagues that it is important for the Fourth Culture Kids to forge strong and numerous links as with the core culture of their homeland. Suggestions I would like to put forward suggestions as to possible ways and means the international schools can move towards helping Fourth Culture Kids forge the links that will be so important if they are to live their lives in their motherland. Please recognize and respect the importance of the native language of the host country. A Thai parent recently told me about an interview she had with the teacher of an international school in which her child was going to enroll. She had asked if Thai was going to be taught. The teacher probably misinterpreting her preference, answered: yes, the Ministry of Education, has made 2 ½ hours a week of Thai language and culture compulsory to Thai students but “…we can get around that.” She was dismayed and enrolled her child in another international school. The 2 ½ hours a week allotted to Thai language and culture is, perhaps, sufficient time to provide students with an appreciation of the first layer of culture, but it is inadequate if students are to acquire the language skills needed to learn the second layer. The time could undoubtedly be spent more effectively if the curriculum focused less on the visible components of culture such as dress, rites, traditions and the likes, and more on the deeper underlying layers - for an instance, less on the life Buddha or Buddhist ceremonies, more on Buddhist philosophy and practice. Greater attention could be give to Thai history, social studies and literature. There is a limit, however, to what International Schools can achieve in terms of cultural education unless they devote a lot more time to teaching Thai language; and they will soon be facing greater competition in this area. As the present time, Thai Ministry of Education is setting up an English Language Program in which the newly-reformed Thai curriculum is used and in which the teaching will be done in 50 % Thai and 50% English up to year 3, then 35 % Thai and 65 % English thereafter. This is a typically Thai way of doing things: pragmatic compromise. The program is an attempt to create a 'middle way' , between International Schools and traditional Thai schools. It is hoped that the new programme, if successful, will provide Thai students with the benefits that can be gained from fluency in English without the cultural alienation, beside lessening parental expenses. In addition to providing more time for Thai language studies, I would like to add the following suggestions: …Greater attention could be given to recruiting Thai teachers who are well-qualified, receive good incentives and will be able to teach the students more than just language; …Thais from various fields should be invited to give the students a regular opportunity for discussion and interaction with people who play contributive roles in the social and intellectual aspects of the country; …I also suggest that the Fourth Culture Kids have close interaction with surrounding communities along the concept of 'town and gown' used by universities; …Extra curriculum activities should be organized where the students work with local, or better still, rural people. The activities should result in the exchange of ideas and knowledge, for an instance – a research project on the world-views of noodle vendors; …Twinning arrangement with a local school for exchange of teaching sessions can also be beneficial and interesting on both sides. Students who are Thai nationals should be given a chance sit in at some classes in a good Thai school. Students from International Schools in Thailand travel up and down the country to attend sporting and artistic events organized by other International Schools, but they rarely – if ever - step foot in the Thai schools that are right next door; Having made these suggestions, I am now wondering if international schools in Thailand can implement them. Do the principals and teachers recognize the opportunities that exist? And do they have the resources and the connections that are required to put them into practice? It may be up to parents to make sure that the answer to these question is ‘yes’. I have already noted that parents are the most important link between the cultural overpass and the local terrain. If parents work together, they may be able to perform this role more effectively. Mr. Bartlett has informed me of the following development at the Prem Tinsulanonda International School: The Parents Association at my daughter's school is currently setting up a "Thai Culture Group" with the aim of helping the staff to integrate both a broader and deeper appreciation of Thai society and environment into the teaching programme. The proposal to establish the group grew out of discussions among parents of Thai or half-Thai children who were unhappy with the standard of Thai language teaching. The discussion led us to recognize two things. Firstly, that what really worries us is not simply that our children will not be able to understand the language, but that they may not be able to understand the people or the country. Secondly, that perhaps the greatest resource available to the school to help it overcome this problem was the parents themselves. The Head of School has responded positively. He realizes that while his staff has the required expertise and experience in other areas of the curriculum, the school may benefit from the support and assistance of parents in dealing with issues relating to Thai culture. Having made the choice of the type of school for their children, the parents should be urged to collaborate with the school in helping to provide links between what happens at school and what happens in society as a whole. Through these, they will be able to help their children optimize the journey on the International Cultural Overpass while minimizing the alienation from the people of their home and mother land where the deeper layers of indigenous culture is concerned. My six grandchildren are all happy and thriving in the four international schools that they are attending. As a grandmother, I am very grateful to their schools for this, and trust that they will emerge as the Fourth Culture Kids who become responsible adults, well-equipped with sense, knowledge, wisdom, savoir vivre and, also the empathy and sensitivity to the feelings and need of others. [1] Pollack and Van Reken: Third Culture Kids: the Experience of Growing Up Among Worlds, Nicholas Brealy; Intercultural Press, 2001 [2] Festival of candle floats on full-moon night of the Seventh Lunar Month that usually fall in November. From: Annual Conference, The European Council of International Schools (ECIS) Presented on 22 November 2003, Hamburg, Germany ,CROSS CULTURE SECTION

Chamnongsri Rutnin Hanchanlash llustration : Nina Ezhik The western image of old Father Time with bent back, hoary beard, and the ubiquitous scythe that cuts down all living and non-living things, does not fit my own impression of Time. Every moment is so immaculately new. How, then, can Time be old? Time, for me, is as young, lithe, and fresh as a mountain breeze at dawn - the very essence of renewal. Perhaps something not too different from Michael Angelo’s David - that potent, magnificence of youth. Such physical things as the human-body, buildings, trees, grow old with time. But - not Time itself. When people talk about 'old-time music' or 'the good old times' , they are not talking about Time, but about the style and society of an era. Time is, in that context, the canvas on which the picture is painted. The focus of my image of Time would be the hands - strong and beautiful – one giving, the other gathering. Having lived with life for quite an embarrassing number of decades, I have learnt that Time is incessantly giving and taking – not from benevolence or cruelty, simply because of its nature - just as it is the nature of water to take the form of its container, and of fire to burn. Had I been forced by some imaginary dictator to choose between ‘benevolent’ and ‘cruel’ to describe Time, I would unhesitatingly opt for the former. Not out of any sense of obligation to spread seasonal cheer and optimism, but because Time is such a great and gracious dispenser of opportunities. Great because every moment is in itself a new opportunity to become truly alive. Gracious because it sets no conditions and asks nothing in return. I often marvel at the continuous flow of opportunities in the course of a lifetime. Each moment - especially when Challenge throws a gauntlet at our feet - we are given the chance to grow, to renew, to rectify, to reflect, to learn, to forgive, to let go - all in all to celebrate the beauty of the human heart. Whether the opportunity that comes with each new moment is seen, seized and optimized is up to each individual; Time has nothing to do with it. It does not reward those who make the best of the opportunity nor does it blame those who ruin it or punish those turn it into a chain of problems. The rewards and penalties both are part and parcel of the natural law of causality and are inevitably interwoven into the fabric of our personality. Sometimes when walking alone on the sun-speckled paths among the tall trees of my Chiang Mai garden, I know with great clarity that Time does not exist. It is a human invention. We invent Time, putting it in our own context of seconds, minutes, hours, to fit our need to organize our lives. We also have a crying need to measure in a non-spatial way our lives, loves, longings – because for these there are no spatial measurements. ‘History’ attempts to captures Time in dates, dissecting, labeling and encapsulating the pieces in years, centuries, eras and whatnots. Its value lies in the insight gained from the study and interpretation of the human experience. Having made a lofty philosophical point about the non-existence of time, I have, in the past few hectic last days of the year, caused dire misery to both the young and the old around me with cries of “Oh, oh, what shall I do?! What shall I do?! I’ve promised to write an article about Time for the Bangkok Post! Where shall I find the time? I haven’t even the time to think! Oh… Oh… Oh…” My husband was aghast and, exclaiming, “You write about Time?” He, incidentally, is one of those cheerful organizers of time who, despite the multiple hats he is wearing (close to twenty by last count) with never a complaint. Musing along leafy garden paths is not among his enjoyments. Between the two of us we should fall somewhere close to the median - perhaps veering a little to my side. For instance, if it hadn’t been for me he would always be very first to arrive at social functions. There have been times when we have had to park outside our hosts’ gates in order not to fluster the hostess by turning up half an hour early. In all fairness I must mention that there have been times when our hosts started to rearrange sitting plans in view of one missing couple. We travel a great deal. Again, if it hadn’t been for me, the ground staff would have been condemned to the frequent sight of two senior cherubs wilting on lounge seats hours before the boarding call. As things are, they have become familiar with the inarguably livelier vision of two hell-angels whizzing through on the last note of the final boarding call. The duality of Time makes it difficult to avoid self-contradiction. Having said that Time is merely an intangible human invention, I am constantly running out of it. Green envy stirs in my heart whenever I hear anyone complain of having too much time on their hands. Oh, how I would have loved to have all of the precious stuff languishing on their hands. In the course of my ‘no-time-to-think’ panic, I asked Jayasaro Bhikkhu , a Buddhist monk, what would he write about Time if he was in my shoes. “For someone who has no time to think, you are thinking yourself into quite a state,” he remarked. He own focus would be on understanding human suffering and its cessation in relation to Time. He would ask his readers to reflect on the ways and occasion in which our relationship to Time cause suffering, in which it brings joy and happiness, to what extent are those experiences of suffering and happiness fixed and immutable, and to what extent can we reduce the pain and increase the happiness by wisely changing our relationship to time? He wondered why people with the most access to time-saving technologies suffer most from time poverty. “I think I’d tell a story – a true one… Many years ago a young Western monk left Wat Suan Mokh for a period of solitary retreat in a cave. As he left, construction was just beginning on a building shaped like a ship. Three years later he returned and while walking around the monastery with the abbot, Buddhadasa , he noticed the construction still going on and remarked how the work was still unfinished. Buddhadasa said, ‘It’s complete.’ The young monk, looking over at the activity on the work site, was confused. Buddhadasa calmly explained ‘The parts that have been built so far are complete.’ " Has that anything to do with the word “Timeless”? . From: Outlook, Bangkok Post, January 1, 2005.

Chamnongsri Rutnin Hanchanlash Illustration : Just dance Once upon a time when good Thai children bowed their sweet heads and held their tongues in face of phu yai’s commands, some venerable phu yais would glance at me out of the tails of their eyes, shook their heads and sighed, “Oh, how that child argues!” , no doubt thinking that the child would some day come to a bad end. I like to think that my penchant for argument has mellowed with time like fine wine, thus the bad end awaiting me might turn out not to be all that bad. At least, Fate has so far been accommodating enough to set me up with a husband named Jingjai who is endowed with no lesser natural love for argument! Please take note that a lively series of rational debates can be stimulating and long-running enough for a romance to ripen into life partnership. Hollywood has, in fact, proven it a success formula for romantic comedies from Doris Day through Meg Ryan and Julia Roberts . Argument, in my vocabulary, lies more or less at equi-distance between discussion and quarrel. It has the play and piquance that the former lacks without the resentment and animosity of the latter. Slim lines separate the three. I can vouch that, as years pass, good arguments seasoned with wit and humor can help keep a couple in step with each other intellectually and emotionally. They act as a whetting stone for thoughts, idea-development self-improvement and an excellent inexpensive choice of home entertainment. It is also the spice and curry to the basic staples of married life. The range subjects can be incredibly wide. Ours vary from the domestic question of which mixed breed of mongrels would be the most congenial to the fauna and flora our Chiangmai garden, to the socio-economic question of the pros and cons of FTA where Mekong Sub-region is concerned, to the philosophic realm of Descartes maxim : Je pense, je doute, donc je suis (I think, I doubt, therefore I am) ...versus the Buddhist insight , in the words of a contemporary teacher,: : There is thinking; there is doubting; but these are not who I am ( Jayasaro Bhikkhu ). It must be said here and now, however, that though a healthy sport in a healthy life-partnership, arguments when overly indulged can bring on cramps, aches and deterioration of the marital joints. Like in all good things, moderation is the word! In the exhilaration of a sparkling argument, it often takes the finesse of a skilled fencer to avoid stepping on the highly explosive tail of the dragon - the territory of the ‘I’ and ‘mine’, and the ‘you’ and ‘yours’ – which can, in the wink of an eye, turn the lively argument into a deadly dogfight. Novices are advised to keep a healthy focus on the issue at hand while keeping their own ego from protruding into the line of debate - after all ego is just an ego, a non-substantial thing that have tricked people into hurts, pains, greed, anger, conflicts, war and all kinds of problems from time immemorial. Experienced arguers develop an expertise in toning arguments to suit moods and occasions, making them, for an instance, heated but fun, intense but gentle, light-hearted on the surface but weighty in connotation, and so on. They liberally cushion the arena with the indispensable sense of humor and what I like to call ‘generosity of heart’ which accompanies that beautiful thing called love. Now that I am waxing unduly romantic, this article should do well to conclude with a reference to sweet Will Shakespeare ’s jeweled phrase: “the marriage of true minds” . It is the kind of a ‘marriage’ * in which spousal arguments can peak quality-wise because it has peace, compliance and quiet companionship as the backdrop in the same token as the backdrop of silence enhances music, and a clear clean space around a picture is, in itself, beauty. * The Committee for Family Development and Welfare of the National Council for Social Welfare of Thailand under the Royal Patronage , has recently conceived the term Krobkrua Thammachat (The Natural Family) which is defined as: Two or more people of any sex, any status, who have chosen to share their lives with love and care, and are able to suitably manifest their love and care within the boundary of the law and morality… whether or not they have gone through the registration or formalities of a marriage ceremony, whether or not sexual relationship is involved.

Photo: Anil sharma On November 20.2003 the Cross Culture committee and Writing Committee jointly sponsored a Pre-conference prior to the ECIS Annual, deputy chair of the Cross Culture committee was instrumental in the planning and acted as registrar. He was also slated to be a major presenter. Emergency surgery prevented him from attending the conference but he is nonetheless the single person who deserves most credit for its success. The committee thanks him for his extraordinary efforts on behalf of the team. Others essential to the planning and execution which made the conference a success were Debra Rader, who did the IT labors to assemble the information packet. Lynda Walker Williams, who assured arrangements for conference room and catering, and Richard Pearce who assisted in the design and particularly in finding an exemplary substitute at the last moment. Non-committee members participating in the program included Jim Cambridge (Research Fellow with the IB research Unit at the University of Bath), Coreen Sears (author of Second Language Students in Mainstream Classrooms) and Bernadette van Houten (former chair of the committee and now working with her own Consultants Intercultural Communication). The room was full. Attendees included many experienced heads and teachers and others interested in cross-cultural work.John Sauer, chair of the Writing Committee, designed the brochure for the workshop and assisted with registration on the day itself. The actual presentations were as follows: “Getting back to our roots: the need for cross-cultural understanding” Bernadette van Houten “The only culture we can understand: our own cultural identity, current theory and practice” Richard Pearce “Exploring ‘Looking-Glass land’: learning about cultural contrasts at school” Jim Cambridge Brains Trust Panel: Jon Rinnander, Lynda Walker-Williams. Coreen Sears, Bernadeette van Houten Final debriefing: Bernadette van Houten Need for Cross cultural work While the pre-conference was meeting in Humburge, two terrorist bombs exploded in Istanbul. Among the victims of diverse faiths, cultures, and nationalities, was Mr. Roger Short, HM Consul General in Istanbul and a governor of the British School of Istanbul. Committee members present workshops at conference Committee members were represented among the presenters at the ECIS annual conference: Richard Pearce stood in for the absent Peter Weinrich and also presented his own research in two related workshops: Understanding the Mobiles Child through Identity Structure Analysis Debra Rader, author of New Kid in School: Using Literature to Help Children in Transition presented a workshop on the same theme. Jon Rinnander chaired a panel on Crosscultural Issues in Early Childhood which also included Amanda Ilhan of the British School Istanbul, Karla Schmidt of the international School Hannover Region, and Coreen Sears. Lynda Walker-Williams had a full house on a Sunday morning for her interactive presentation on “Educating for Global Citizenship” Distinguished Thai author and journalist presents at Conference The committee shared with the Writing Committee an invitation to the Thai Writer Chamnongsri Hanchanlash . She offered at the ECIS convention a unique metaphor of “International cultural overpasses: their relation to and alienation from indigenous cultures”. Celebrated in her own land and much translated, this poet and novelist presented a multigenerational perspective on the process of cultural hegemony in a host country to many international schools. In a sprightly offering, she observed the process of acculturation in herself, her children and her grandchildren, meanwhile deftly applying contemporary theory in multilingual and cross cultural issues. Her striking presentation, electrifying in its impact on those who heard it, raised a basis question. Why do we hear so seldom at ECIS from the parents and families who are the recipients of our ministrations? At workshop after workshop people talk about the difficulties of reaching some East Asian students, yet few heads or teachers turned up to hear an Asian speaker show us the other side of the tapestry we think we are weaving. Her talk was a wake up call. If we wish to be true to the broader cross cultural agenda we need greater diversity in presenters at our conferences. (Jon Rinnander) From : Cross Culture Committee Newsletter , December 2003

Chamnongsri Rutnin Hanchanlash There has been such a formidable influx of writing on the art of living, the art of happiness, et cetera, that I wondered what I could write for this column that would tingle the mind with freshness and originality. `Nothing,' came the answer from inside my head ... rather conclusive but liberating and comfortable, like a smooth, newly-fluffed pillow to lay one's head on while spinning out an article. I confess to being the play-by-ear or `improviser' type, not by birth but by encounters with the twists and turns of life _ some of them hairpin swerves, believe me. Life is a great concoctor of the unexpected. We human beings, on the other hand, are great concoctors of expectations. I like to think that the art of improvisation evolved out to this duality in human lives. Taking a bird's eye view of my own life, I can see the majority of the plans I made did not turn out as expected. Not that it mattered all that much, because other ways were always found, other goals were always reached, others plans came into being. Life remains what it is: multi-textured, challenge-filled, and yes, full of tricks and uncertainties _ ` vagaries' is the word. Recently, an English publisher pointed to the line `long-tutored by the vaquaries of life' in one of my poems from On the White Empty Page. He asked whether it was a misspelling of `vagaries' or a word I had deliberately coined. Honestly, I couldn't remember. The poem was written years ago. But would he let the word stand? He re-read the poem, mentally scratched his head and said yes, agreeing that it added a nuance of vagueness that deepened the message. What did it matter whether it was accident or intention! On a hillside fringe of Chiang Mai, my husband and I built what was to be our idyllic `permanent' home, surrounded by lotus ponds and tall trees. We moved our official registration there and even built a little office. Years passed, and we are still stuck in Bangkok. The home of our dreams is now no more than a holiday house, occasional refuge for friends in search of nature and peace, and, once or twice a year, venue for Buddhist meditation retreats. Not as planned but no less rewarding. The dreamy leafy garden has also become home to an assortment of immensely lovable dogs _ all six cross-bred. I like to think of them as outcomes of nature's improvisations. For an instance, there is the Labrador-Afghan hound , a Terrier-Thai , Rotweiller-Golden Retriever and so on. The latest addition is a progeny of a Rottweiller bitch and an unidentified male. My husband, a Rottweiller-lover , adopted it for its Rottweiller look. But he gradually metamorphosed as he grew older (the puppy, not the husband). The yellow spots above the eyes spread into a pair of angular eyebrows joined together giving him the uncanny look of a perpetually worried monkey. The metamorphosis continued. On our last visit we found him changed into a beautiful German Shepherd (we Thais like to call them `Alsatians' ) albeit with short floppy Rottweiller ears. I was delighted, having been looking for a mongrel with a German Shepherd parent for quite a while. Aha, after all these years of improvisations on my part to please life, life has done a cute little improvisation on its part for my pleasure. How nice! Now that I stop to think about it, life has done little improvisations for me here and there all along, but I wasn't observant enough to take note. Of creation and improvisation, Christian Dior once said something in French to the effect that `Beauty cannot be improvised, it has to be created'. I, however, find that so many beauties in my own life have been the results of improvisation. When one doesn't hitch oneself to expectations, plans that go awry can turn into great venues for creativity. So, who can argue that the art of improvisation is not in itself creativity? Without creativity can one ever master the art of improvisation? From: Outlook, Bangkok Post September 1, 2004

Khunying Chamnongsri L. Rutnin and Tipsuda Sundaravej Photo:Sittitap The clement of water and the lives of the Thai people have always been inextricably related, Humidity of climate, heavy rains and flooded fields are inherent in the environment, and the presence of abundant water has permeated and coloured the consciousness of the people. With the wealth of rivers and waterways, in addition to long seacoasts, boats have served the Thai people as homes, mobile stores, means of transportation and recreation, and played countless other roles, It is inevitable the significance of water and boats is reflected in the Thai language and literature. Words, Idioms and Proverbs The aqueous element and boats frequently influence words, phrases, idioms, and proverbs. For example, nam is the Thai word for water; when it is used as prefix to another word, the result has added connotation of refinement and depth. The word jai , meaning ''heart"', when prefixed by nam , becomes nam jai , a compound word whose meaning conveys a quality of compassionate generosity. Kam means "'word,'' but nam kam connotes words that have more emotional power to hurt or to soothe than mere ''words"', A person who has more rhetoric than sense speaks like nam tuam tung or "a torrent of water flooding a paddy field,'' while someone who loses all his assets is lom jom or ''capsized and sunken”. Kuen kan or ''left on the supporting beams (on which unused boats are placed for repair)'' is often used to describe women who are advancing in age. To describe someone who acts more as a hindrance than a help, one often says mue mai pai ow teen ra nam , literally meaning ''not using the hands for paddling but dangling the feet in the water.” Of a wealthy bridal couple who are in the same family circle, one often hears the rhetorical question ruea lom nai nong tong ja pai nai , ''the boat capsizes in the pond, how can the gold be lost?’' Lullabies and Children's Verses In Thailand the influence of boats on a person's life begins at the cradle. The cradle's rocking motion, as well as its shape, resemble those of a boat. Rhythmic patterns of Thai lullabies and children's verses evolve from this rocking movement, and mentions of rocking, paddling, and boats are frequent. It is easy to imagine this lullaby coming into being when a mother of long ago sat on the floor pulling the string of the swinging cradle and softly sang her baby to sleep: Rolling boat, oh, Mo Yeh Been away and seasick Come, rest a while Moor and sleep a night When well and all right You can sail out again In southern Thailand, lullabies are called pleng rong ruea , literally “song sung for boats,'' not to be confused with pleng ruea or "'boat song.'' Like lullabies from other regions, the lyrics of pleng rong ruea are widely varied in subject. References to water and boats occur frequently. This example of pleng rong ruea has reference to boat races participated in by young men and women on religious merit-making occasions such as the chak pra (1) festival: Oh, daughters, oh Daughters of boat folks Wearing flowered clothes To paddle in the race You're wet in the face Eyes red with water Hurry with your paddle To race in the ...oh ...oh sea. As the baby grows out of infancy, there are innumerable verses such as this very old one for playing simple games: Rock-oh-rock Back and forth The clouds are flooded The rabbit is covered To his chin in water The little green viper (2) With curled up tail Hugs the neck Of rock-oh-rock. The above is an old verse for very young children. The singers, a grown-up and a small child, sit on the floor, facing one another and holding each other's arms; as they sing they rock back and forth to the rhythm of the song. When they come to the end of the last line the child often jumps up to put its arms around the adult's neck in a playful hug. As the children grow a little older, there are many verse games which have direct references to boats. In dek euy pai or "'boy, paddle, boy,"' Three or more children can take part. They sit in a row as if in a long boat. The child at the end of the row acts out the motion of paddling while the rest rock back and forth as though to help increase the forward momentum of the boat. These movements go on as they sing. Boy, paddle, boy Rock, master, rock Reaching Sam Kok Master can rock no more Raise the handle Of the paddle Knock master on the head With a loud ‘Gok'! As they sing the last word, the paddling boy tries to knuckle the heads of his friends who scatter to escape the knock. Whoever receives the knock on the head plays the part of the paddler in the next round. Pleng Ruea and Sakrawa For those who live near waterways, boating has always been the primary means of transportation and entertainment -- and in the bygone past, just about everyone lived on or near waterways. Many religious events take place during the annual three-month Buddhist Rains Retreat which coincides with the monsoon season. Towards the end of this period, the water level is at its highest and the paddy fields are flooded. Merit makers in the past travelled to the temples by boat. After the ceremonies came the festivities, particularly enjoyed by young people. Men and women congregated on different boats to "'play'' pleng ruea or ''boat song." Playing pleng ruea required a quick wit, a healthy sense of humour, a good and strong singing voice, and a gift for versification. In this song game, men and women exchanged impromptu verses sung in a courting dialogue. The sequence began pleng plob or pleng krern , whereby the men sang their invitation for the women to play the game. If the women decided to play, they would sing back their verses. If not they would remain silent. After venturing two or three pleng plob without receiving any response, the men would paddle away to try pleng plob on another boat of women. Once a response was given, the interchange of impromptu verses continued. Puns and double meaning with sexual connotations were typical of pleng ruea . The following is an example of pleng plob , the response of the women, and the beginning of the game: Men: We see you girls afloat. All other men are remote. So why not turn around and see Our handsome faces as we Patiently wait in our boat. Women: We hear your calling And won't keep you in suspense. As this is not a dance, But a game of verbal dalliance, We will answer you men. Men: Your sweet voice rings clear Like sugared words to our ears. To our first calling cry You gave an instant reply. A sweeter voice we never hope to hear. Women: Since you have come our way And asked us to play, If we didn't answer, It would've been a cold shoulder, So we won't turn you away. Men: Thank you you are good and kind. Readier women are hard to find. The moment we reach out from our end, Your gates are thrown wide open. We have the same thoughts in mind. Following the invitation and response verses came the “body" of the game, in which they exchanged double-edged flatteries and sharp verbal duels, or played the parts of elopers. The more sophisticated games involved two boats of men vicing for one boat of women, or two boats of women fighting over one boat of men. After the game, they would exchange parting songs as the men escorted the women to their homes. Parting songs were generally more courteous the rest of the game. Pleng ruea had its place in other activities than the festivities that followed religious ceremonies. For excursions during the flood season, people often paddled their boats out on the flooded fields for a full day's enjoyment, indispensable parts of which were pleng ruea and what might be called a picnic on water. Of the latter, chili dip and salted fish with rice in banana leaf comprised mouthwatering fare for the common folk. Part of the fun was in pulling water lillies and eating their long stems as vegetables for the dip. Pulling a particularly stubborn lily with tough stem could cause a boat to capsize to the delight of dry occupants of other boats. Impromptu versifying enlivened the atmosphere. The court version of the meal was more elaborate. People of the court and the nobility added fluffed, crisp fried catfish, sweet braised pork, salted eggs, pickled garlic, and numerous vegetables to the humble chili dip, which was then mixed with rice and wrapped in lotus leaves. This dish came to be called Nam Prik Long Ruea , literally "chili dip boarding a boat''. Today it has become a popular dish, more often consumed in restaurants than on boats. Just as the court version of the chili dip for the boat trip was more elaborate, the court version of pleng ruea , called sakrawa , was more refined. The crudity of the language was removed and there were additional instruments to the two used in pleng ruea . Sakrawa was also less spontaneous in that the singers merely sang the words called to them by the versifiers. The verses always opened with the word ‘sakrawa’. The players would sometimes take the parts of characters in well known episodes from literature and play out a scene, not necessarily keeping close to details of the original. Each boat would represent a character. The versifiers would need good knowledge of literature in order to put to good use the idiosyncrasies of the characters in enlivening the impromptu dialogue and make the game sparkle with wit. Each boat would play the part of one character. In the central province of Patumthani, there used to be a tradition of tak bat phra roi or "'giving alms to a hundred monks'' towards the end of the Rains Retreat. The villagers world moor their boats in a long row along the riverbank, while exactly one hundred monks paddled their own boats to receive the alms early in the morning. After the alms giving was over, the young men and women would paddle their boats and stop at landings to sing songs asking for contributions of uncooked rice and other items for kratin offerings to monks at local monastries. The songs are called rampa khao sarn or "wandering to beg for rice." Our boat is waiting We bring you merits To the steps of your landing Our boat is waiting Right at your very steps ………………………………… ………………………………… Your house poles are as big As the spreading banyan Oh, they are as large As the spreading bodhi tree …………………………………….. …………………………………….. In this life you spoon rice In next life you'll spoon gold May every wrong come right May every wish come true ……………………………………. ……………………………………. May your ten fingers Be as round as candles May your figure be supple Like a painter's dream And not even angels Shall rival your beauty It is interesting to note that the ancient Palace Codes of Ayudhya prohibited the singing of pleng ruea and music-making in boats in the vicinity of the royal palace. The inborn urge to versify, sing and make music must have always been irrepressible for the Thais, becoming particularly powerful when they came in contact with water and, of course, boats. Nirat: Literature of the Traveller Nirat are long poems describing the feelings of a character or of the poet himself when away from his home or his beloved. The general mood is one of nostalgia. The poet often laments his loneliness and associates what he sees with what he has left behind, or his present unhappiness with a brighter past. Later nirat poems often come close to poetic travelogues. Since most journeys in the past were made by water, it was only natural to find numerous references to boats in these works. A gem of the nirat genre in Thai literature is the 144 stanza "Nirat Narin”. Its author was Nai Narintibet , a page of the Uparaja (Deputy King) of King Rama II . This 'travel poem' was written when Nai Narintibet travelled in the entourage of the Uparaja who led royal troops to the south to drive out the Burmese invasion army. The first half of long journey was made on water, by klong (canal) and along the sea coast. This excerpt shows how naturally boats belong in the world of Thai literature of this genre. Our parting will be long, my love. Be happy and fret not, for our faith Will bring us together again The call of war urges, and so, farewell. Into the boat, the boat rolls as does my soul Sitting, my sighs blow storms in my breast Turning to look back, my heart overturns Taking last glance, I glimpse your lovely face. Out of the klong, across the river The boat glides pulling my heart taut Like filament of a broken lotus stem -- Though apart, our hearts are joined. The most prolific author of nirat , is Sunthorn Bhu , court poet of King Rama II . His 70 years of life were colourful with ups and downs -- periods in the royal palace, in prison, and in no less than four monasteries as a monk. He made numerous long journeys and spent much of his time travelling on boats. The following excerpt from “Nirat Phu Kao Thong” has the same literary conventions but distinctly different flavour and substance from "Nirat Narin" It was probably written in 1828, four years after the death of his royal patron, King Rama II, who was an accomplished poet and artist. The excerpt conjures the image of the king and his court poet composing verses on the Royal Barge. Passing the landing, I shed tears at memories Brought back by the sight of the Royal Barge Where I used to wait with Phra Jamuen Wai For our king to embark; on the golden throne Your Majesty was wont to compose verses Which I, by gracious command, read aloud; Till the waters receded and Kratin season ended Never did I offend my beloved king. Once I used to sit in close attendance And breathe the fragrance from the throne. With the end of the reign, my fortune waned Like the fading of the fragrance. Bot Heh Ruea Verses for the Royal Barge Procesion In the past, not only royal and religious ceremonies involved riverine procession of the royal barges but also, on different scales, royal excursions. For the Bangkok era, the most significant procession was probably the religious occasion on which the royal barges bore the Emerald Buddha from Thonburi’s Temple of Dawn to the present Chapel Royal of Wat Phra Si Rattanasasdaram (The Temple of the Emerald Buddha) when the Thai capital was Bangkok over two centuries ago. Since the barges were manned by large crews, necessity arose for the coordination of the movements of the crewmen. To serve this purpose and uplift the spirit of the men, rhythmic barge songs were chanted. Verses sued for this purpose are known as bot heh ruea , which in themselves have become a poetic literary genre. Different verse forms are used to give varying rhythms to fit the different speeds of the strokes and patterns of movement of the paddles. There are two distinct styles of bot heh ruea . Verses written for chanting in royal barge processions on ceremonial and auspicious occasions are formal and serious in subject. Others belong to the emotive-imaginative style, reminiscent of the nirat . The subject matter of the latter is quite unrestricted and may have nothing to do with boats. They range from romantic associations of the sights of fish, flowers, birds, and food with romantic memories of beloved women to episodes of old stories or earlier pieces of literature. One of the greatest poets in the history of the Thai literature was Prince Dhammathibet , the oldest son of King Baromakot who reigned towards the end of the Ayudhya period. The poet prince must have been in the royal barge procession on several occasions. With his exquisite poetic skill, he left legacies of some of the most beautiful poetry in Thai literature. Among his masterpieces is this bot heh ruea describing the barges as they move in spectacular procession. When the King journeys on water He graces the jewelled throne Amid his magnificent entourage Of golden barges in proud procession The King journeys by water On the glorious Royal Barge That sparkles like jewels Gleaming paddles dip and rise Barges shaped like mighty beasts Throng the sovereign fleet Attendant barges with flying banners Stir the turbulent tide Garuda-seize-Naga (3) Barge glides Like garuda in windswept skies Crewmen ply their golden blades And intone the royal bargesongs Four-sided pavilion as exquisite As if wrought in celestial realm With curtains of woven gold And dragoned roof of scarlet Samatchai be-diamond the water With sparkles of reflected light In double lines they proudly glide As if flying down from the skies Golden Hamso (4) holding his tassel Rides acrest the flowing tide Beautiful as Brahma's bird As he wings his aerial flight Armed Barges fast as wind Skim the current in two files Bargesongs resounding high As the crews urge their craft Kajasi (5) ready to pounce Seem as real as though alive Rajasi (6) rearing high Move in two alternate pairs Horses speed forward Shaped as slender and sleek As fleet-footed steeds Of the swift Wind God Singha (7) Barges prance Atop the dancing waves More arrogant and brave Than proud lions of the jungle Naga (8) Barges with faces That seem as though alive Dragon Barges speed by Overtaking the serpents Rearing Mountain Goats Spring forward on the water Barges with faces of eagles Glide as though winging the sky Sonorous music resound Drums and voices boom Songs echoing loud Intoned by the jubilant crew Barges leave the capital In regal magnificence With joy and exultation Over paths of myriad fish The versatility of themes used in barge songs derives from the fact that poets, mostly those who were royal, would compose poems on subject of their choice and then use them for chanting in the royal barge processions. Barge songs by Prince Dhammathibet include one that tells the story of the abduction of a human queen by an amorous garuda king and its dramatic sequence. King Buddhalrtla Napalai , Rama II, who was the poet King mentioned in the excerpt from Sunthorn Bhu's Nirat Pu Khao Thong, wrote a barge song describing culinary delicacies prepared for him by a young princess who was later to become his queen. In this work he associates the taste, the appearance, Or the name of the dish with his romantic recollections and feelings for her. The following are excerpts from this well known work Steamy nest of swallow Warm and mellow to the taste Seeing the nest without a bird I hunger for my lover's nest ……………………………………… ……………………………………… Ruby red pomegranates Adorn the plate like jewels My love wears a ruby ring With alluring red sparkles …………………………………… …………………………………… Tiny morsels in pleated wraps Rich to taste, delightful to behold Remind me of my beloved And her garment's delicate fold ……………………………………. ……………………………………. Floating Lotus (9) in lush bloom Full and sweet in blossom Luring my senses to lust For the softness of your bosom The versatility of barge songs can be proven further by an excerpt from the work of King Vajiravudh (Rama VI) who was often described as ‘the scholar king'. He was the first Thai king to have received his education in Europe. During his reign, from 1910 to 1925, Thai readers were exposed to western literature through translations into Thai. Prince Chula Chakrabongse wrote of King Vajiravudh in 'Lords of Life': ". ...His knowledge of English was perfect and he was especially impressed with the works of Shakespeare, and his translation of three of the master's plays were not only close in idiom and accurate even to punctuation, but it was poetical. While a student in England he had loved the theatre, and back in Siam he wrote or translated from English and French, of which he also had good knowledge, nearly on hundred plays... .” His barge song reflects his outlook and the modernization that was concurrently taking place: Shadows of mountains. Created by the evening sun, Bring back memories Of the great city to my vision. Tiered buildings line the roads. Marked by streetlamps so bright, As brilliant as they would be In full and glaring daylight. Townsmen sport their motorcars. Women, colorfully dressed, Show off the newest styles, Hoping the men would be impressed. But none, in my eyes, Could ever be so pleasing As the sight of my love; Her charm is never ceasing. I recall those sweet, Dark eyes of my girl, And how the luster of her teeth Resembles that of a pearl. She is just as well-versed As a woman should be; And yet, with perfection, She masters her household duty. Some women are obsessed with books, And toward housework are not inclined. Being so scholarly, No husbands can they find. Unlike them, she is artful, Savory delicacies to devise, So as to please me, And that is truly wise. Poets have continued to write verses for barge songs, but no longer purely for the pleasure of creating beautiful poetry. In modern days there are no more royal excursions on the royal barges and processions occur only on ceremonial occasions. Consequently, bot heh ruea written after the day of King Vajiravudh are ceremonial in style because they are specifically written for occasions in which the romantic nirat type of barge songs would be out of place. An example is bot heh ruea written by Prince Bidhyalonkorn for the opening of the Buddha Yodfah Bridge by King Prachathipok (Rama VII) In 1932. The bridge was built to commemorate the 150th anniversary of the founding of Bangkok and of the Royal House of Chakri. The verse opens with a description of the city from which this excerpt is taken: Krung-thep, created by the gods Magnificent to behold Shining in jewelled splendour Gleaming with gem and gold The sovereign palace With myriad golden spires Reaching the heavens with radiance Like diamonds of the skies Powerful fortresses surround The city in mighty embrace Defying all adversaries With unconquerable strength and majestic grace This is followed by homage to the greatness of the monarchy. Then it continues to briefly relate Thai history from the fall of Ayudhya in 1767 through the reign of King Rama I. The description of the ceremony follows, and the composition ends with the prayer for the Royal House of Chakri. Looking back, no barge songs have surpassed the beauty of those composed by Prince Dhammathibet in those far off days preceding Ayudhya's fall in 1767. Imagine the golden procession of royal barges gliding in the mellow light of the tropical evening to the chanting of these lines Longing, oh, longing, the sun declines Sighing, oh, sighing, daylight dies in dusk Longing, oh, longing, my heart sighs for you Sighing, oh, sighing, I yearn for your soft glance Sighs, oh, sighs of longing With the setting of the sun Softly the evening darkens And fills with visions of you Sighs, oh, sighs of yearning Flying birds slant the sky One flies alone without a mate As alone and lonely as I Seeing peacocks dance and turn I yearn to see your nimble dance Soithongs step demurely Like my shy beauty steps along her path Mynahs perch in pairs Sharing lovers' tender joy But I am drowned in desolation At this cruel absence of my love.. Footnote 1 See Sumet Jumsai, Life and Riruals Based on Water. 2 Dog, instead of green snake, in some versions. 3 classical motif showing mythical bird garuda seizing his serpent prey 4 mythical bird vehicle of the god Brahma 5 mythological beast, a cross between elephant and lion 6 king lion 7 lion 8 mythological serpent 9 A Thai dessert Bibliography I. Prince Damrong,"Essay on Bot Hae Ruea," Complete Collection of Barge Songs, in Tha i, Guru Sabha Publishers, 1985. 2. Prince Chula Chakrabongse, Lords of Life , Alvin Redman,London, 1967. 3. Anake Nawigamune, Songs outside the Centuries, in Thai, Muang Boran Publishing Company, 1984. 4. Pinyo Chitdharma, Folk songs of the South: Pleng Rong Ruea or Lullabies , in Thai, Women Teachers College of Songkla and Asia Foundation of Thailand, 1966. 5. Ministry of Education of Thailand, Children Games of Central Thailand , 1979.

Lyric & Melody: Charan Manopetch คำร้องและทำนอง จรัล มโนเพชร Translated: Chamnongsri Rutnin Oui Kham… Oui Kham…Oui Kham…. อุ๊ยคำ…… อุ๊ยคำ……. อุ๊ยคำ….. Oui Kham old ‘un, a kind old ‘un, อุ๊ยคำคนแก่ ท่าทางใจ๋ดี With no loved ones, lived all alone, ลูกผัวบ่อมี อยู่ตั๋วคนเดียว Every sunrise, sickle in hand, เมื่อแลงแดดอ่อน อุ๊ยคำก๋ำเคียว Went out to reap morning glories เกี่ยวผักบุ้งใส่บุงกล๋างหนอง Her eyes so blurred, her back so bent, ต๋าก่ฝ้าก่อฟาง หลังก่งุ้มก่ก่อง Toiled on the lake until dusk fell อยู่กล๋างหนองจนมืดจนค่ำ Tied her harvest in big bunches แล้วแกก็แบ่ง ผักบุ้งเป็นก๋ำ And sold them to keep herself alive. ส่งขาประจำเลี้ยงตั๋วสืบมา Oui Kham once told of those old times อุ๊ยคำเกยบอก เล่าความเป็นมา When she had husband and child ลูกผัวก่อนหน้านั้นอยู่ตวยกั๋น And then he aged, and then he died, แล้วมาวันหนึ่ง ผัวแกก่พลัน มาต๋ายละกั๋น And left her alone with their daughter. เหลือเพียงลูกสาว But then happened that shameful day แต่แล้วแห็มบ่เมิน มีเรื่องอื้อฉาว The girl ran away with a man ลูกสาวหนีตวยป้อจาย Oui Kham abandoned, lonely old ‘un , อุ๊ยคำเลยอยู่ คนเดียวเปลี่ยวดาย With sad heart and no kith nor kin. ตุ๊กใจ๋ตุ๊กก๋ายปี้น้องบ่มี Oui Kham… Oui Kham… Oui Kham… อุ๊ยคำ……… อุ๊ยคำ………อุ๊ยคำ Oui Kham old ‘un, a kind old ‘un, อุ๊ยคำคนแก่ ท่าทางใจ๋ดี No kith no kin… poor lone, old ‘un ลูกผัวบ่อมี เป๋นดีเอ็นดูล้ำ The sun’s risen, Oui Kham’s not seen, แลงนี้แดดอ่อน บ่หันอุ๊ยคำ Why’s she not here… where has she gone? เกยมาประจำอุ๊ยคำไปไหน Morning glories hang down their heads หมู่ผักบุ้งยอดซม เซาซบบ่ไหว What’s wrong with old Oui Kham? เป็นจะใดไปแล้วอุ๊ยคำ Gray is the sky, black are the clouds, ฟ้ามืดมัวหม่น เมฆฝนครึ้มดำ Monks chant aloud “Oui Kham goes well” เสียงพระอ่านธรรมขออุ๊ยคำไปดี Oui Kham… Oui Kham… Oui Kham อุ๊ยคำ……… อุ๊ยคำ………อุ๊ยคำ

รางวัลแด่คนช่างฝัน คำร้อง-ทำนอง: จรัล มโนเพ็ชร Lyric and Melody: Charan Manopetch แปล: คุณหญิงจำนงศรี หาญเจลักษณ์ Translated : Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash อย่ากลับคืนคำเมื่อเธอย้ำสัญญา Don’t take back your promises to me อย่าเปลี่ยนวาจาเมื่อเวลาแปรเปลี่ยนไป Don’t let them cease with the passing day ให้เธอหมายมั่นคงแล้วอย่าหลงไปเชื่อใคร Set your goal and stride straight on chosen way เดินทางไปอย่าหวั่นไหวใครกางกั้น Don’t be swayed by any words or fears มีดวงตะวันส่องเป็นแสงสีทอง The morning sun gives you beams of gold กระจ่างครรลองให้ใฝ่ปองและสร้างสรรค์ Lighting the road for the dauntless dreamer เมื่อดอกไม้แย้มบานให้คนหาญสู้ไม่หวั่น And when bright flowers bloom for bravest fighters คือรางวัลแด่ความฝันอันยิ่งใหญ่ให้เธอ The winner’s prize for shining dreams - is yours บนทางเดินที่มีขวากหนาม On thorny roads so rough and steep ถ้าเธอคร้ามถอยไปฉันคงเก้อ My heart would bleed if you backed away ฉันยังพร้อมช่วยเธอเสมอ I am here for you as always เพียงตัวเธอไม่หนีไปเสียก่อน If you’ll only stay with your dreams จะปลอบดวงใจให้เธอหายร้าวราน I shall comfort your hurting heart จะเป็นสะพานให้เธอเดินไปแน่นอน I shall be the path to bridge the chasm จะเป็นสายน้ำเย็นดับกระหายยามโหยอ่อน Cool stream to soothe when disheartened คอยอวยพรให้เธอสมดังหวังได้นิรันดร์ Faithful friend of your hopes and your dreams - always.

คำร้อง: พันเอกหลวงสารานุประพันธ์ Translated: Chamnongsri L. Rutnin ภาพโดย Ruediger Strohmeyer ประเทศไทย Thailand where in unite รวมเลือดเนื้อชาติเชื้อไทย All the races and descendants of Thailand เป็นประชารัฐ In a democratic sovereignty ไผทของไทยทุกส่วน Thai belongs to Thais in entirety อยู่ดำรงคงไว้ได้ทั้งมวล The Nation stands undiminished ด้วยไทยล้วนหมายรักสามัคคี For the Thai people are determined To nourish unity ไทยนี้รักสงบ แต่ถึงรบไม่ขลาด We Thais cherish peace But are ever ready for war, เอกราชจะไม่ให้ใครข่มขี่ For none will be allowed To trample on our liberty สละเลือดทุกหยาดเป็นชาติพลี Every drop of blood will be Sacrificed for our country. เถลิงประเทศชาติไทยทวีมีชัย ชโย To augment the honour And ensure the glory of Thailand, Chayo. (Bravo)

คุณหญิงจำนงศรี หาญเจนลักษณ์ (ดัดแปลงจากงานเขียนของหญิงอเมริกันที่เห็นความตายของมารดา) วันนี้ฉันได้ของขวัญ... ไม่ใช่เพราะเป็นวันเกิด เมื่อคืนนี้เราเถียงกันเป็นครั้งแรก ถึงถ้อยคำที่เธอใช้ จะทำให้ฉันร้องให้ แต่ฉันก็รู้ว่าเธอไม่ได้ตั้งใจ เพราะวันนี้เธอเอาใจฉัน และเอาของขวัญมาให้ วันนี้ฉันได้ของขวัญ... ไม่ใช่เพราะครบรอบแต่งงาน เมื่อคืนนี้เธอตบหน้า เอาหัวฉันโขกฝา รุ่งเช้าฉันบอกลูกรักว่า แม่หกล้ม ฉันรู้แน่ว่าเธอเสียใจ เพราะวันนี้เธอกอดฉัน และเอาของขวัญมาให้ วันนี้ฉันได้ของขวัญ... ไม่ใช่เพราะเป็นวันแม่ เมื่อคืนนี้เธอโหดร้ายกว่าครั้งใดๆ ถ้าฉันปรึกษาใคร เธอคงอาย โกรธ ทนไม่ได้ ถ้าฉันจากเธอไป ลูกๆล่ะ ปัญหาจะหลากล้นเพียงใด แต่ฉันรู้ดีว่าเธอรู้สึกผิด เพราะวันนี้เธอขอโทษ และเอาของขวัญมาให้ วันนี้ฉันได้รับดอกไม้มากมาย ใช่..เพราะเป็นงานศพฉัน เมื่อคืนเธอฆ่าฉัน ฉันรู้จ้ะ สุดที่รัก ว่าเธอไม่เจตนา แต่ถ้าเพียงฉันกล้าตัดสินใจ ของขวัญวันนี้คงไม่ใช่น้ำตา และดอกไม้อีกมากมาย Poem by an Anonymous Writer who was present at the death of her mother. I got flowers today. It wasn’t my birthday or any other special day. We had our first argument last night And he said a lot of cruel things that really hurt me. I know he is sorry and didn’t mean things he said Because he sent me flowers today. I got flowers today. It wasn’t our anniversary or any other special day. Last night, he threw me into a wall And started to choke me. I woke up this morning sore and bruised all over. I know he must be sorry Because he sent me flowers today. I got flowers today, and it wasn’t Mother’s Day or any other special day. Last night, he beat me up again. And it was much worse than all the other times If I leave him, what will I do? How will I take care of my kids? But I know he must be sorry Because he sent me flowers today. I got flowers today. It was the day of my funeral. Last night he finally killed me. He beat me to death. If only I had gathered Enough courage and strength to leave him, I would not have gotten flowers today.

Binlah Sonkalagiri Translated: Khunying Chamnongsri Hanchanlash Excerpt of Winning Work Thailand, S.E.A.write Award 2005 จากตอนหนึ่งของเรื่องสั้น แดฟโฟดิลแห่งดินแดนไกล ในชุดรวมเรื่องสั้น เจ้าหงิญ ของ บินหลา สันกาลาคีรี ซึ่งได้รับรางวัลซีไรท์ประจำปี 2548. Photo : Singha Bohrer (-Bender) A tiny clod of earth moved, a grain of sand rolled - each impacting the other in reciprocating tremors. Rain dusted. Breeze brushed. From the sky, little stars gathered to witness the event. The boy sat watching with jubilance. His eyes shined and sparkled like the stars. The earth swelled up in the center before splitting into a little crack no larger than the width of a palm needle – a dark, mysterious crack. After a while, something appeared. Not brilliance of light but dimness of a shadow, cast by the starlight on a life struggling to reach upward. A slim, green, pointed leave rose to inhale its first life-breath. The vaporous rain mixed with the medley of underground minerals to produce milk for Mother Earth to feed the new-born. It won’t be long now before sunrays would bathe the eastern sky in cordial welcome. The boy knew full well that he had to tell someone about what had happened in the night. It’s beauty was too wondrous to be kept to himself alone. He had to be patient and wait. … soon, that person will return. ดินก้อนเล็กๆ ขยับเบาๆ เมล็ดทรายม้วนกระแทกส่งแรงกระเทือนถึงกัน ละอองฝนโปรย สายลมพัดแผ่ว บนฟ้า ดาวน้อยๆ จำนวนมากชุมนุมเป็นพยาน เด็กชายนั่งมองด้วยความตื่นเต้นปิติ ประกายตาวิบวามดั่งดวงดาว ใจกลางของแผ่นดินโป่งนูน ก่อนจะปริเป็นร่อง ร่องนั้นกว้างไม่มากกว่าความกว้างของใบสน มืดมิดเร้นลับ แล้วครู่หนึ่งก็ปรากฏบางสิ่ง มิใช่ประกายสุกสว่าง แต่เป็นเงาสะท้อนเลือนรางจากการที่แสงดาวส่องต้องชีวิตหนึ่งซึ่งพยายามดิ้นรนเหยียดกาย ใบเขียวเรียวแหลมเงยขึ้นสูดรับไออากาศแรกแห่งชีวิต ปรอยฝนพรำผสม เคล้ากับธาตุต่างๆ ใต้พสุธา กลายเป็นน้ำนมแห่งมารดาแผ่นดินป้อนปรนผู้กำเนิดใหม่ อีกไม่นานแสงอาทิตย์จะสาดเหนือฟ้าตะวันออก คือไมตรีต้อนรับการลืมตาดูโลกอย่างสมบูรณ์ เด็กชายรู้ดีว่าเขาต้องบอกเล่าให้ใครบางคนรู้ว่าค่ำคืนนี้มีอะไรเกิดขึ้น ทุกอย่างงดงามเกินจะเก็บไว้คนเดียว เขาต้องอดใจรอ ...ไม่นาน ใครคนนั้นจะกลับมา

Wat Wallayangkul Translation : Chamnongsri L. Rutnin English proof reader: Lindsay Neilson Siripongpanit จาก โลดแล่นรวดเร็วเหนือรวงคลื่น ของ วัฒน์ วรรลยางกูร Illustration: Indigo The wooden blades of the forty-man paddle crew slice the water, churning it into wild spirals in the wake of the long, slender boat. With the acceleration of his heartbeat, the young orchard hand curbs his feelings by focussing all his attention on the blowing of the whistle between his lips to give rhythm to the crew’s strokes. The paddle in his own hands keeps time with those of his mates. With each stroke, the men’s full-spirited vocal exhalations “huea… huea… huea” ring out in such unison as though to overpower the wide river with their resonance. The pungent sweat glazes the dark brown skin and accumulates with the exertion of each stroke. ‘Huea…huea…huea” the bow of the teak craft rears higher above the water as though to show off its name, “Plai Noi” . Looking like the curved end of a sword, the raised bow-stem slides forward with speed as the keel cuts the water into showering arcs. The saffron spot on the temple sala grows larger by the second until it takes the shape of a man. It is Luang Poh , sitting there watching the approaching display of speed. When the boat reaches the stretch of river in front of the temple, he waves for it to stop but the young orchard hand pretends not to see the signal and continues to blow the whistle without any detectable interruption to the rhythm. “Preet…preet…preet” “Huea…huea…huea” Such a behavior may not seem too far out of the ordinary had it not been for the long years of close association between Luang Poh and these young men, especially Tan – the leader of the lot. Luang Poh has known him from the days when his face was still round and cherubic. Today the cheekbones on that face have grown into determined mounds; the chin has squared out and sprouted a luxuriant beard. Those cheekbones and chin have drawn their daily nourishment from the rice at the bottom of Luang Poh ’s alms bowl up to the very day Tan left the temple to earn his living as an orchard hand. Though that was some four or five years ago, Luang Poh feels as if it were only yesterday. Chewing his mixture of areca nuts and betel, he follows the foaming backwash with his eyes. Something is not as it should be… The boat is on its way back. This time it slows to a stop off the sala pier, each man gasping for air – pitifully, like fish out of water . Luang Poh stops chewing and takes a look at each of the young faces before spitting the chewed-out areca quid into the river with such a force that it makes the short sound of a pebble dropping into the water. The gesture causes those who are new to it to beat a hasty retreat and take a stand at a safe distance. At a time like this, only the one-time gang-leader of temple boys dares to face the monk. “Well, are you all dead?” Luang Poh asks, his eyes fixed on the hard-breathing nose of Tan . The gaze, however, shifts location on catching the hint of a smile on the young man’s lips. “Who, Luang Poh? Who is dead?” The question is followed by the metaphoric remark of one familiar with the nature of the man he is talking to, “Ah, I see, you have just swallowed a wasp nest!” Luang Poh lifts his saffron robe threateningly to reveal the muscular calf of a former orchard hand; “I’ll give you a thrashing with this in a minute!” The young man puts his palms together in a wai , teasingly posturing as the Ramayana’s White Monkey General avoiding a blow from the irate rishi . “What are you going to bawl me out for, Luang Poh?” “Why didn’t you stop when I told you to?” “Well, isn’t it good to practice hard?” “Do you think just practicing hard will make you win?” “Oh, good! Then I’ll spend whole days in bed with the wife!” “Want a taste of my foot?” Luang Poh’s hard gaze combined with the appearance of some tiny white beads at the corners of his lips are enough to make his protégé’s eyes drop, “You are afraid of losing, aren’t you?” The person at the receiving end of the question remains silent, color and perkiness draining from his face. Luang Poh commands, “Ai Tan, tell your mates to take their places.” Once the crewmen have resumed their positions, he commands them to paddle slowly before ordering some to change places for better weight distribution. This continues until both rims of the craft are of equal distance from the face of the water. “A good boat has to move like it’s flying. A lopsided boat can’t fly. Understand?” Luang Poh continues his instructions well into dusk, not forgetting to issue the final command for the crew to return the next day for some secret tips to improve their performance. “What secret tips, Luang Poh? I’ve been paddling since I was in my mother’s womb. I think I’d know…” “Yes, secret!” shot the immediate retort from the monk’s areca-stained lips above the saffron robe. Luang Poh plies an imaginary paddle to demonstrate his argument, “You think you’re going to win by shutting your eyes and paddle…quick…quick…quick…. Like fucking a whore? The boat would capsize, that’s what!” “As if you’ve done it,” says Tan, stifling his laughter. “Of course! When I was young! … Oh, go away, get out of my sight!” Realizing his own slip of the tongue, Luang Poh chases them all away. Only Tan remains using an old battered bowl to scoop out water trapped in the boat. On the riverbanks, electric lights begin to appear, becoming numerous and bright where the sawmill stands on the opposite bank. Strains of music float across the river, the bass guitar clearly dominating. Tan sits scraping and throwing out the water, his eyes drawn irresistibly to the brightly lit area on the other side. “You know why you are afraid of losing?” Luang Poh bends down to ask. Startled, the young orchard hand looks up without answering. The monk walks away and disappears into the temple. ………………………... The afternoon sun is losing its strength and throwing shadows of trees on the water. Sunlight reflects off the tin roofs across the river. Most of the roofs are of the flatter bungalow style, though there remain some old houses with gables so sharply pointed that sparrows in flight must feel nervous about scraping their breasts. The water edge in front of the sawmill is full of lumber, chained together into rafts. But the lumber is far from being the focal point of interest. Rather, the eyes of Tan and his gang are riveted on the planks which have been assembled into a race boat that are floating in front of the temple. Brand new, that boat seems to be as light as a black-collared starling, and as capable of flying. The bright scarlet of its crew’s shirts seems to cut into their eyes, and there is a white sports boat escorting it. Luang Poh emerges to greet the Plai Noi crew with “Wonder why you’re going to lose?” a question that produces a row of embarrassed faces. “Why don’t you go on pushing yourselves? Aren’t you afraid Plai Noi will grow lazy, too? Yesterday you were practicing so hard! Today, why are you doing nothing but floating and admiring other people’s boat? Oh well, I suppose it’s the way of losers.” Losers…lose… come on, why do you keep on repeating those words! Tan feels anger starting to simmer inside. “Your words are going to give us bad luck – why don’t you just go back to bed, Luang Poh?” “You! Why don’t you ask my foot! Remember whining and begging me for that boat? Have you forgotten that I was the one who gave it to you? Brat!” Tan gives his whistle the short quick blows, but for all its shrill urging the Plai Noi moves without any real speed - the paddles that churn the water into scattering, frothing swirls are somewhat out of synchrony. At last, the Plai Noi is back floating off the temple pier, its occupants gazing after the red-shirted crew in the boat on the other side of the river as they paddle in unison until out of sight. Luang Poh sits down on the sala steps, “Have you ever thought why this boat is called Plai Noi?” His saffron robe flutters in the breeze. A noisy ‘long tailed’ boat roars pass, its navigator shouts over the din to Luang Poh , teasingly, without waiting for a reply, “Sure about this year’s race, Luang Poh?” The monk tightens the robe around his body as he starts telling the youthful paddlers, “It’s a teak boat and very slim. More of its hull is under water than the hull of other boats. Well, it’s heavy… heavy like a small elephant. People who don’t really understand it would go fast with the paddles like you did just now. Well, there is no surer way of making it a true losers’ boat… ha…ha…ha…” The listeners’ hearts grow attentive as the speaker continues with his explanation, “To drive the Plai Noi you must dip deep so that the blades are fully submerged. Don’t hurry. Make the strokes slow but steady like the steps of an elephant. That’s what I call understanding our Plai Noi. Now, try it.” The breeze carries a pleasant coolness down the waterway. The boat heads up the river with the tide though, against the breeze. With the strong, steady strokes prescribed by Luang Poh , the Plai Noi moves deep and lazy at the beginning. But just when the crew begins to sweat, the boat’s hull rises… higher and higher. The swift needlefish swimming on the surface of the water is overtaken, then left far behind by the Plai Noi . The noiseless forward speed accompanied by minimal frothing takes a school of small fish surprise causing them to scatter in fright and flip away in silvery flashes of sun-caught scales. The young planters feel the quiet flow of satisfaction deep within. The breeze is cool and soothing against their skin. Even on such an evening, Luang Poh persists with the question; “Do you know why you are so afraid of losing?” …................................................... The end of Lent comes around with the flood that swells as high as the heart of a waiting girl anticipating her man’s leaving the monkhood. After the day of the Devo alms celebration on the eleventh month’s first waning moon, each temple will hold its annual temple fair with alms-giving to monks at dawn, boat races later in the morning, afternoon likay shows, and an evening of socializing and entertainment afloat a river full of boats. This year, the eleventh month’s first waning moon holds great significance for the young orchard hands in the temple neighbourhood. The fact is that the sawmill Tao Kae’s son, Udomsak , who happens to be a member of the provincial football team had come to the temple to play football with them. After a while, a tiff on the field developed into challenges that put honors at stake. Udomsak had derided them by saying they pushed their toes into the ball as if injecting it with a syringe, and concluded that they were good for nothing but breaking holes in the earth. If they met Udomsak ’s challenge on the football field, Udomsak ’s team would surely boast of a handicap of two to one. His words had assaulted the ears of Tan and stirred fighting blood in his veins. To face the challenge could prove awkward because kicking around that round ball looked easier than it actually was. There had been times when Tan had given his all into a kick only to find the thing spinning like a top right there at his feet. It was no different from when someone unfamiliar with the paddle plied it with all his strength only to spin the boat round and round like paddling a wok. It was thus that our orchard hand didn’t dare pick up the gauntlet just then. However, after a great deal of back and forth bandying, the opponents agreed on a boat racing which was considered fair as the members of both sides had all grown up along the banks of the river. At first Luang Poh knew nothing about it. Not until his longtime protégé came and wheedled him to find a racing boat for the contest. Luang Poh had come upon the Plai Noi as it lay abandoned in Rajburi Province. As no one was interested in it, Luang Poh spent a tidy sum of money to have it towed along the waterways to his temple. The Plai Noi had been runner up in the championship races of Angthong Province and had won many prizes adding up to well over a hundred thousand baht. But in the end it had become a loser’s boat. Luang Poh says that’s because its crew didn’t truly love it. News keeps seeping through grapevines from across the river. News that the other boat has been built with special lightweight planks which the sawmill people have carefully selected from thoroughly dried wood, and that the builders happen to be the best boat-builders from Ayutthaya, and that the crew is comprised of football players and sawmill laborers, and that they are kept in camp and fed with nourishing food during the training period. During the very first practice days on the river, the betting rose to two to one in favor of the Sky Lab . The comparative advantages are obvious for any prospective betters. In the evenings, the crew of one boat stays in camp to rest while those of the other go out setting bait to catch fish after a whole day of hoeing and pulling weeds. While the crew of one is fed boiled eggs, bread and ovaltine , those of the other are eating salted mackerel , chili paste and water mimosa. One crew go by the elite British handbooks, the other follow the areca-stained practical theory from Luang Poh ’s lips. By the day of the race, the betting has grown to a voluminous scale. The radio weather forecast has announced a depression bringing a continuous rainfall. The water in the river is murkier than usual. It has risen and swollen to flood the banks and the ground beneath houses and the monks’ quarters. With water so plentiful, the annual temple fair should be just great! On the first days of the fair, tests of speed are tried out on the face of the river as a kind of warming-up for the big day. More rumors spread around concerning the much-talked about up-coming race – with the effect that the bets continue to escalate until they reach the price of several colored televisions. During the warming-up days, the Plai Noi has managed to score victories of less than a length over other contestants by overtaking them towards the end of each race. The Sky Lab , however, leaves them so far behind in such a flying start that none could catch up despite its loss of speed towards the end. Members of the Plai Noi crew are clad in blue shirts adorned with the logo of a fertilizer company smack in the middle of their backs. Rain has paused after having been falling since dawn. Moisture is blown about in the freshened air. The good thing is that wind is not strong. The line of flags and the colored papers in front of the temple show up in all clearness and respectability. The megaphone at the sala pier blasts out luk thung songs reverberating down the waterway. In front of the temple floats a buoy with a flag stuck on it to indicate the finish line. The race boats draw frothing lineal wakes behind them as they move back and forth warming up for the actual race. The supporting boats follow in the wake of their racers with fluttering flags that flaunt their teams’ names. The race boats crews are all shirted in their team colors. The Plai Noi ’s support craft is a small motor boat fitted out with a Rotax engine. Seated in the middle is Luang Poh chewing his betel and areca. The little motor boat swerves here and there, rubbing sides with the smart white sports boat, support to the Sky Lab . Tan rose before dawn to scoop out the rainwater that had been caught inside the Plai Noi . Gripping the sides of the boat, his heart feels as unruffled as the surface of the water at sunrise. Though he went to bed late last night, his sleep was deep and fulfilling. Looking back now, he can’t help but laugh at himself for being so frenzied in those first days when everything had seemed so unsatisfactory, so displeasing. Luang Poh had found such an apt comparison for the state he was in “paddle quick…quick…like…” .............................................. He had slept fitfully for nights, unsuccessfully groping and searching his mind to find the answer to Luang Poh ’s question, “Why are you afraid of losing?” Striving to win the race had been such an exhausting task. As though trying to beat the sawmill Tao Kae’s son had not been energy draining enough, now he had to try to beat Luang Poh ’s question as well! ‘Oh, this is all the brain I have, why should I go on racking it to find an answer!’ The question gradually faded from his mind as days passed. The paddle seemed to grow progressively lighter with the daily practice of using deep and firm paddle strokes just as instructed by Luang Poh . A progressive lightness also grew within him. Sitting in the boat which moved so swiftly made him quickly forget things passing by his eyes and through his mind. Bright water surface flashed by and all he heard were the sounds of his own breathing, grunts, and the paddle shafts against the sides of the boat. He had gritted his teeth to fight the tiredness that summoned the aches and pains that seemed to lurk in each of his bones, spreading them through the muscles and tendons. The more he worked the paddles, the more he had to fight these battles until he almost felt like giving up prospects of victory in exchange for being able to lie stretched out inside the boat. In such moments something inside him would ask, “Can’t you make just one more stroke that sinks the paddle deep into the water?” At times, when cowardice came into play, the paddles would dip only half blade, churning and frothing the water into white foams, their strokes seemingly forceful to distant watchers but could not raise the Plai Noi hull. The time had come; Tan had learned it wasn’t easy to paddle a race boat. It was a matter of victory and defeat between sinews and the paddle, between the breath and the folds of his lung, between the past mindset and the present one. It was just like the time when he first took up a spade when he was fresh from the temple. How his hands had blistered and the sweat that ran down the arms like rivulets acerbated the stinging pain! And afterwards, how heavy those arms had felt - as if the whole spade had been buried inside his flesh! And his back so burned by the sun. When he used to sit and watch others hoeing, he used to think it was easy, but when he himself had to enter the fray, it became altogether another matter – a far fiercer battle fought almost to the death to reach victory. What with the burning sun beating down from behind and the eyes watching one’s own shadow on the grass. Again and again that shadow had seemed to deride him, to drive him to defeat. It was necessary to use the height of the sun and the needs of the stomach in building up a determination until he could finally work the grounds with ease. ................................................ The rain is light. The wind is picking up strength. Boats are heaved and dropped like seesaws by the waves in the winding river. On land, the bets are still pouring in with the Sky Lab as the clear favorite. The red-shirted paddlers seem indefatigable as they coast their boat up and down the riverbank. The blue-shirts park their boat close to the mooring, taking shelter from the rain. The raindrops are growing thicker, the waves humping higher. The referee gives his whistle a long blow summoning the two finalists to the start line. People on the banks stretch their necks for a full view. The peddler boats stop to moor at sheltered spots along the banks only to float out again during the excitement of the race. The announcer is speaking quickly using urgent choice words and ways to depict what he sees. Udomsak blows preet…preet… on his whistle with confidence. The Sky Lab takes its place poised for catapulting off with speed. In the supporting boat sits Udomsak ’s lovely fiancée to wave encouragement with her pretty hands. When the Plai Noi has taken its place at the start line, Luang Poh ’s boat moves alongside. The monk reaches over to pat the backs and shoulders of the crew. Tan puts his palms together to wai on Luang Poh ’s shoulder, the high cheekbones and square bearded chin mixed with the folds of the rain-soaked saffron robes. “Come back to the orchard after getting to the victory line, don’t you forget that, boy!” “Yes, Luang Poh, back to the orchard.” The wind is blowing hard, the waves hump high, the start whistle sounds long and loud. The paddles cut into the water, blades fully submerged. “Preet…preet…preet…” “Huea…huea…huea…” The Sky Lab darts forward in the left lane. Helped by the current and powered by the strong crew, it spurts ahead of its rival with every well-synchronized stroke. The Plai Noi moves smoothly, its keel bisecting the waves leaving a trench-like wake. The young orchard hand plies his paddle, his eyes looking ahead over the row of blue-clad shoulders at the river. The rolling waves twist and curve like ears of paddy in flooded fields when the stalks have lengthened up and up to escape the rising water and the rich moisture-fed ears have grown fat and weighted down and down till the ends dip into the water. ...Preet…go on paddling… huea… the heavy paddle is growing light. The sluggish boat is beginning to raise its hull. The orchard hand feel the prow rising, rising, as though the boat is about to leave the face of the water, as though it is about to turn into the rain-mist that is gyrating in the sky leaving the watery wake well behind. The keel that has been cutting the water into twin fringes is now riding the water, pointing the prow stem skyward like the curve of a sword. The bottom of the hull moves atop of the waves to a rhythm that is unassociated with the length of a man’s breath. The rain is thinning in the still strong wind. The twisting waves curve up and down. The clouds are moving in the opposite direction from the boat. Blueness is gaining more and more territory in the sky. The young orchard hand looks ahead into the distance. The blueness of the sky has dissolved into the blueness of the horizon….