Praise the gift of breath, for when I find myself fearing time, not completing the things I want to do before I choose to settle in life, my body is working almost as a separate being – reminding me that time is now, past is gone, the future isn’t certain. So as I’m stuck in my worries and anxieties somehow my body is patiently waiting for me to acknowledge that still it inhales, exhales, over and over again for me. Keeping me alive.
Praise empty spaces waiting to be filled with our thundering voices, for silence has waited for this very moment to hear the sounds that paint images into a mind that has almost forgotten what it’s like to imagine.
Praise our stories, repeated over and over again by our ancestors until it has been scribed into our veins, so that when we question where we come from, each beat of the heart is a calling, waiting for us to find ways to bring their spirits back to life.
Praise this paper, for I know damn well that I’m forgetful, but even in moments I find myself reminiscing of a painful past, I can allow my pen to do the bleeding for me.
Praise the power to speak, because Lord knows that violence is not the way to gain peace, but I’ll stab you with my words if it makes you listen.
-Jumakae
Thanks to Bonafide Rojas from The Bronx, NY for facilitating an awesome writing workshop.For those of you who have been curious about my whereabouts, I’m officially in Long Beach, CA doing work to build up Homeland Cultural Center: Manazar Gamboa Theater, a new community space intended for an underprivileged section of the neighborhood to gain access to a professional theater background. Running open mics and also helping to form another youth slam poetry team called DUENDE! to compete in Brave New Voices again. Yup, it’s been a busy past couple of months, but I am here and breathing. =) Breathe with me.
Today I came home to help Ma (mother) pick ripe fruit from the tall trees that have finally blossomed into a beautiful bouquets of persimmons. It has been over a year since I have stayed in my parent’s house, but tomorrow is going to be a very special day. Hundreds of people will be at the Buddhist temple to watch their loved ones transition from casual attire to saffron robes. I am going to see my father with a shaved head for the first time in my life. Pa (father) retired from his job at Boeing four months ago and is finally ordaining into monkhood. Although it’s only for 10 days, this is his first opportunity to release himself from the daily distractions at home that prevent him from the full embrace of his spirituality. Also, it will be Ma’s first time sleeping without his presence to wake her up at 5am every morning. I figured she was longing for my company on this lonely afternoon so I did not hesitate to join her.
Ma grabbed the stool to assist me in picking the persimmons too high to reach. I attempted to avoid branches hitting my face and extended my hand to grab the nearest fruit. Instead, several ants used it as a chance to substitute my arm for a tree trunk. As I fervently shook them off, Ma laughed and told me not to worry. “They are just like us, except smaller.”
She began cutting the excessive branches, reminding me of a strong Amazonian woman fearless of any poisonous creatures or potential harm. As I watched from a distance, she said to me, “You know your Tha (grandfather) planted this tree when he took care of you as a baby? I never would have known how to grow this. And look at it now. People come everyday to pick from it and we have so much to share!” Its massive leaves provided enough shading to cover a small house and its branches extended out into our neighbors’ backyard. The ripest of the fruit seemed to be hanging over our neighbor’s wall and my mother wanted to make sure not a single fruit would go to waste. “Let’s tell the neighbors to eat it!”
Before I stepped foot onto their lawn, Ma ran to our backyard and picked the ripest dragon fruit and three pommegranates. In Thai custom, we never visit someone’s home without bringing a gift. In my mother’s custom, we must always give the best of what we own. Ma was excited to present the dragonfruit to our White neighbor, thinking that perhaps she may have never set eyes on the dazzling pink splendor of one, let alone taste the milky white galaxies hiding beneath its skin.
I hesitated to ring the bell since under it was a sign that read, “Daytime sleepers. Do not disturb.” Seeing a kitchen light on, I felt more confident and pushed the button. Ding Dong! A figure emerged from the lit room and our neighbor opened the door to greet us, surprisingly with the words, “Dragon fruit!” With a puzzled look on my face, she followed with, “I read it’s good for diabetes.” Ma said she would return soon to give her some dragonfruit seeds to plant in her backyard. She also reminded her to pick the persimmons hanging over her wall so that they would not spoil. Before we returned to our lawn to cut more fruit, our neighbor told us to watch out for burglars. Another neighbor was recently robbed so she suggested that we leave a sign like hers underneath our doorbell, OR leave at least one car on the driveway to avoid any suspicion of an empty home. We thanked her for the advise and returned to our front yard.
I watched as Ma stood on her tip toes to grab the bundle of fruits hanging high above the brick wall that separated our house from the neighbor’s. As she struggled to pick the furthest one, she stopped herself and said, “That’s so rude of me to pick the fruit when it’s already on their property!” Then, she lowered her voice and jokingly whispered, “Maybe I should wait for their driveway to have no cars.”
We filled two large buckets full of persimmons and returned into the house to begin cutting. Frustrated with my technique which left many slices slipping from my fingers and onto the ground, Ma had to give me a tutorial of the proper way to peel a persimmon. She also cut open a dragon fruit for us to enjoy before it could spoil. “You know I bought the seed to this dragon fruit tree for $35 from a Vietnamese market years ago? Why spend $7 on 1lb of dragon fruits when I can plant one on my own? And now look at how beautiful it is. Even our neighbor has had her eye on it.”
I thought of my recent trip to Thailand and how I tried so hard to understand a culture I felt so far apart from. Language barriers between my grandfather and I made it difficult for me to ask him about his upbringings. He raised me in America until I was three years old, then became homesick for his village, Phatthalung. If it were not for my parents immigrating from Thailand to pursue the American dream by working multiple jobs, he would not have ever come to help watch over me. Since then, he has never returned to America but instead chooses to remain in the comfort of the vast rice fields and coconut trees of Southern Thailand. But this whole time, was I really that far away?
I listened as Ma hummed away tunes that brought me into a light meditation during our fruit cutting session. Tha was with us all along, for if he never planted that tree I would not have had the privilege to hear wise words from my mother and witness her practice the culture that she grew up with: Love. And the great thing is I did not have to relearn a forgotten language to at least understand this part of my heritage.
Soon, it will be my turn to make sure there are enough seeds to bear fruit for my future children. Until then, what seeds will you plant?
I have received some devastating news. If any of you have kept up with my past blogs and my connection with Thailand, then you must know my deep appreciation for the Kai-Jo Brothers. They are the main reason why I went back to Thailand and how I was able to work as a traveling musician with their band and several others – who all helped me reconnect back with my roots. Our parents are from the same village so they are like my long lost brothers. Without their help, I would not have the community that I’m so close to today in the motherland. P’Jo (P stands for older brother/sister) takes great care of everyone in the band while also having his own family, but as of two days ago his brother, OUR brother, P’Kai has passed away.
I do not yet know the reason for his death, as I have no way of getting in contact with my friends in Thailand other than facebook – and unfortunately I cannot read or write in Thai. The last conversation I had with P’Kai was after he got out of the hospital due to an asthma attack. I remember while he was rushed to the hospital a day before our 10 hour journey to the south, we were all questioning whether we should still go to Phattalung, our parents’ village, to play for the very first time. After all, what is Kai-Jo brothers without P’Kai? The doctors gave P’Kai a 50% chance of survival. P’Jo made the decision for all of us to continue on with the show, because it’s what his brother would have wanted. (Read more of my blog from “Revisiting Sankofa“.)
When we came back, he was finally released. He called me and asked if I would be willing to join the Kai-Jo Brothers as a lead singer, if I could stay in Thailand and help keep their band alive. I was torn between two worlds – should I go back home to Long Beach, CA, or should I stay in Thailand and build a new community for myself here?
I left out of fear for the unknown. But I promised to return within the next year after I save up funds, and I would be committed to the band as much as possible – especially because they helped me discover a big part of myself.
Now with his loss, I question whether or not I should go back and continue the dream – or if I should stay here in America and build. Can I be at two places at once? Only time will tell. Change is the only thing that is constant so I am learning to adapt as time and unexpected outcomes arrive…
Our last show together at Khao Yai National Wildlife Reserve:
Rest in peace – in Nirvana, in Zion, or I’ll see you next lifetime…
Ok, I’ve been home for a month now. back in the lovely LBC (Long Beach, CA) and loving every moment of it… connecting with old friends, creating new music, and embracing each day as if it were my last.
But I’m still saving up for my next adventure, so stay tuned. =)
My last night in Bangkok, Thailand with the amazing Srirajah Rockers.
Sorry for the lack of update! After my last post, I decided to make a 5 day trip to Phnom Penh, Cambodia – which turned into 10 days. (In between those days I was supposed to have a show on a Southern island which I chose not to attend – but I found out it got cancelled due to the tsunami warnings. Prayers goes out to our brothers and sisters in Japan!!) Anyways, Now I am back and have been non-stop since.
A quick summary of my trip to Cambodia…
Incase you don’t know my history with Phnom Penh, I have been involved with a non-governmental organization called Tiny Toones, which uses hip hop as a means of empowerment for the street youth. It was founded by Tuy KK Sobil, who is originally from Long Beach, CA. I’ve known him for 5 years now and this organization always draws me back to the Penh! One cannot go to Cambodia without feeling the need to give back because of all the trauma they went through from the war, so I have worked on bringing a greater awareness to this organization doing amazing things for its people. I connected with some old friends as well as some new faces, such as the AZI fellaz – a progressive Khmer-American hip hop crew from Philadelphia – and Mia-Lia, founder of the One Love Movement, which is bringing the deportation issue of Khmer-Americans to light. Please visit their websites to learn more!
Other than that, my updates have mainly been through my facebook page. It takes hours for me to actually blog because I put so much thought into what I have to say. One of my latest status updates was “I respect people who get sex changes but it makes me sad when my Thai brothers who transition to women end up selling their bodies to mostly older white male clients. Thoughts?” I received an overwhelming number of responses, so if you’d like to read it please check it out on my facebook page.
Anyways, what provoked me to post that was my experience in Pattaya. After returning from Phnom Penh, I had two days of rehearsal in Bangkok with Rajahsie I band and we drove up for the Pattaya International Music Festival for our set. Upon arrival, I was saddened by the number of prostitutes in the city, but more so I was sickened by the older foreign men, majority of them being White, who were supporting this business. It’s sad that such perverted places exists, and it confuses me that there are Thai men out there receiving sex changes just so that they can become female prostitutes. However, I do understand that several of them do it to support their families — but why?! Especially when so many women out there wish they didn’t have this body so they wouldn’t have to enter this business? Poverty drives people to do ridiculous things, but there is only so much we can do at this point since it has become such an accepted practice, especially since this city became a base for American soldiers during the Vietnam War. I also see several children with white fathers and Thai mothers walking around these corrupted streets, and as much as I should not judge the history of their relationship, I pity the children because of the environment they are growing up in.
Besides all of that, I performed a new song with Rajahsie I I wrote two weeks ago after witnessing a farmer’s protest in front of Bangkok’s version of the White House. I could not find any news articles related to the protest, so I built up a scenario in my own head of what must have led these people to make demands for their needs. Some people told me that they are being paid to protest by an organization that will benefit from any changes, but either way the poverty of these farmers is being exploited by both sides. Enjoy the video!
NO MORE
Lyrics by Jumakae
Breaking all the laws of creation,
don’t have time to argue about where we came from.
Pray to the Father and the Holy Son,
but what about our mother we build these things on?
Look to the sky to answer our worth,
Sun is shining while dark is the Earth.
Buildings grow higher, gotta get to the top.
Shadows are casted on those we forgot.
Oh no, can’t you see we want no more
Oh no, can’t you see we want no more (x2)
Blood is shedding in the land of the green
Turned into grey concrete
Black is the skin that cared for the earth,
Kicked to the floor, treated as dirt.
Uprise them in the belly of the beast.
Who’s listening to their needs?
Blinded by colors of ivory.
Come down from your towers,
We’re screaming for peace.
Oh no, can’t you see we want no more
Oh no, can’t you see we want no more (x2)
Our time is coming soon,
Taking back what you claim was new.
Our time is coming soon,
We refuse to keep being used.
Oh no, can’t you see we want no more
Oh no, can’t you see we want no more (x2)
In regards to Pattaya and sex workers, I honestly cannot offer any type of solution for this practice. Then again, I don’t have to because it is just my observation of the crazy things I am experiencing during traveling. Lesson learned: Pattaya = Disneyland for perverts. Along with Koh Samui, Phuket, and certain areas of Bangkok. Ahh!
I hate the city. But as much as I hate it, I love the beauty that comes out of the concrete. The creative energy that flows as a result of the pain that I see around me. The constant search for some type of justice or balance between the increasing gaps of rich and poor. The multiple hustles people take on to keep their head above water, and the communities that form out of those who are trying to find their place where individualism is valued.
But the sad reality is, not everybody finds that community. In tourist places such as Khao San Road, the streets are swarmed with beggars – most born with disabilities. Many of these people have been rejected by their families and their only option becomes begging. I watched as one woman born with dwarfism went from person to person with her hand folded in prayer position. Most people, out of pity, pulled out their wallets and gave her a couple coins – but not a single person made any eye contact. Then she came to me, and like the others I did not look at her. I couldn’t. Are we afraid of maintaining some type of attachment or the stint realization that this person is as human as we are?
I often get scolded for being too sensitive about these issues and if I look too deep into society’s problems I’m only getting myself in trouble because I can’t do anything about it. However, I can’t help but think about the city of Bangkok in comparison to my mom’s village, Phattalung. In Phattalung, you will not find any street beggars. My mother would tell me that a homeless person can survive because there is food everywhere, especially in the jungle! But then again, there is no homelessness, either. Most people live a long and happy life and stay physically active by working in the fields. And still, not everyone is born perfect.
There is one boy about my age who lives a few houses down from my grandfather. I feel like have grown up with him because I have seen him every single time I go back to visit, and I’m sure we are somehow related. I remember being a little girl, pondering what kind of future he would have since he was born with down syndrome and did not have health care like how we do in America. (How xenocentric of me at such a young age..)
When I recently went to visit Phattalung I saw him again, now a grown man. He was helping to cultivate the rice crops and although there was little he could do, everyone still encouraged him and made him feel valued. Even my uncle played a little bit of tag with him in the fields while working. He was seen as a part of the community and everyone helped to raise him – not just his mother and father.
So I think about Bangkok, this concrete jungle, and how many generations ago did we lose this sense of community? How long ago were people stripped away from their villages and forced to fend for themselves?
I know a wrote a similar blog to this a couple weeks ago titled “Poverty Always has a Beginning“, but I want people to realize that there are places close to ‘Utopia’ that still exists, where people can still live off of the land and not question where they come from because where they’re at is already home. Everyone is included and in hard times, there is always your neighbor to help you. But also, with new frachises opening up in Phattalung, I can’t help but to think – How much longer will our villages last?
I didn’t mention this in my last post about Phattalung, but a new shopping center was build this past year. When visiting Phattalung last year, the first place my family took me to visit were the beautiful caves of Sumano. Inside Sumano caves are waterfalls and Buddha statues of all sizes hidden away in every crevice. And the best thing about this place is how untouched by tourism it is. However, this year the first place my mother and I were taken to was Tesco Lotus. Perhaps they were excited to show us this new place that reminded them so much of America, or at least what they have seen in pictures. I was so confused that I thought I walked into Wal-Mart with the ‘roll-back’ sales greeting me as I pushed a shopping cart. Employees were yelling in the Southern Thai dialect and were robotic with their actions. I asked some of them what they enjoyed about their work environment and the main thing: air conditioning. And to be honest, I’ve never seen a cash register in Phattalung. I felt so guilty buying fruits and vegetables from their grocery section because I knew damn well that there were local farmers waiting for buyers at their stands just outside, but my mother insisted so we would not have to make multiple trips.
Thank goodness grandfather’s home was far enough from Tesco Lotus to where daily trips were not attainable, so if we needed any other items we could go to the corner store that belongs to a distant relative.
But I’m afraid. Because I know that many local people will be forced to shut down their businesses and will probably end up working at Tesco Lotus, or any other similar franchise that may soon pop up. And with the younger generation infatuated with elevators, escalators, air conditioning, and the daily advertisements on the television set their parents did not grow up with what will happen to the land that our ancestors have been culvitating for us?
Fact is for me, I cannot live in Phattalung but I can only fantasize about the idea of having a village to come back to. I cannot live my life as a farmer because I was born and raised in the city. And as much as I love being in Thailand, I know I eventually have to go home to America, where I have become a part of a community that I can relate to and have to continue building.
I reflect back on my Brave New Voices post and still hold tight to the idea of Sankofa, that before going forward we must go backwards. We cannot progress until we know where we come from. So I write here in Thailand today, beyond Bangkok but inspired by the strength of Phattalung’s community. It is not the land that made the people strong, but the willingness to support each other under any circumstances.
I want to tap into this energy source of my family, and I know that every person has this same energy flowing from the blood of our ancestors- until at one point forgotten (or stolen) from history. Can we re-awaken this spirit? Can we re-create the village that Babylon has attempted to strip from us? And how strong will we be at it?
Looking forward to coming home from the source (Thailand) to the belly of the beast (America)…
On a positive note:
Here’s one good thing that came out of Khao San Road… Sublime songs and jam session with Teddy Ska Band!
On a personal note: My mother called me saying she is homesick for Phattalung. She plans to retire and come “home” soon to be with my grandfather, the eldest left in the village. And when her job as a daughter is complete, she will return to America to finish being a grandmother! And I promise there will be no nursery home for my mom…
I didn’t understand what he said, but people’s reaction was enough to explain.
I nodded my head and spoke before he could translate.
“Family comes first. You should stay in Bangkok.”
He responded, “If it was his choice, he would go. This is our grandparents’ hometown.”
The night before heading to Phattalung, P’Kai of Kai Jo Brothers was rushed to the emergency room due to an asthma attack. The doctor had announced a 50% chance of survival.
It was February 11, 2011 at 1:30am when P’Jo shared with us the devastating news. We just finished rehearsal and had a performance that same day. The drive from Bangkok would take approximately 12 hours, but we made sure to pay a visit to the hospital before embarking on our journey. P’Kai was delirious, but encouraged us to go – just as his brother predicted.
I had no idea what to suspect in Phattalung. All I knew was that we would be performing at the beautiful lotus lake and bird sanctuary of Talay Noi, but when we arrived the large banner read “WORLD MUSIQ AND SHADOW FESTIVAL”. Never has Phattalung ever experienced something like this before.
The area was covered with information regarding Phattalung’s culture, emphasizing that it was the center of shadow puppetry in all of Thailand. Shadow puppeteers from around the world were also flown in to display their unique artwork and to celebrate our commonalities. Local children ran to the ‘world music station’ and improvised their own drum circle. Young brown women dressed in coconut shells to prepare for the Manora, an upbeat folk dance specific to Southern Thailand while the men tuned their cow-skinned percussions.
This was very eye opening to me considering the only Thai dance I’ve ever been exposed to in America were the slow classical ones meant for royalty and required for dancers to be covered in heavy gold jewelry. I never felt connected to it and saw it as a form of “high art”, meant for a society I felt my family did no fit in.
For the first time in my life I was able to understand the history and culture of Phattalung, and I was able to identify with a community I always felt so distant from. If any of you know me personally at home, you will know that I do not associate very much with the Thai community in Los Angeles. Often times, I’ve even gotten raised eyebrows from the older Thai people when I tell them I have a Khmer boyfriend and I enjoy my time in Long Beach, CA with my ethnically diverse group of friends. Majority of them don’t even believe that I am Thai because they say my complexion is too dark! It is rare to find Thai people from my mom’s village or immigrants from the countryside- who aren’t working in kitchens of Thai restaurants. Thus, I have always formed a stronger bond with Khmers, Laotians, and Filipinos in my city because they remind me so much of people from my mom’s village and were not as quick to judge – to the point where majority of my gigs as a young artist were at Filipino events, including several years as a headliner at FPAC! But back to Phattalung…
My mother was sure to inform all of our family members that I was in town. To my surprise, my uncles, aunties, and cousins all came out! Never have I been surrounded by an intense amount of energy and love from relatives, considering the only direct family I grew up with was my mother, father, and older sister.
After the festival, I said goodbye to the band and went home with my relatives to stay with my 95 year old grandfather, Tha. The band was leaving to Bangkok the following morning while I wanted to take advantage of being in my mom’s village for an extra night, especially because Tha had officially become the eldest member left since his best friend passed away that week. This was my first time ever being in Phattalung without my mother.
My younger cousin, Nong Pang, wanted to stay close to me so we slept in the same room. I felt the responsibility of an older sister, since her brother was away in college and she has no other siblings.
The next day, Nong Pang took me to the beautiful national park of Khao Phu Khao Ya in Phattalung. Unlike the other national parks in Thailand, this one rarely has visitors since tourists do not make the effort to come to Phattalung. Lucky for me, since Phattalung has so many hidden treasures I hope Lonely Planet never finds. We went through the jungles and had to walk across streams along certain trails. If we stopped, we would get eaten by mosquitoes. My other cousin, P’Thook, often takes me to waterfalls or hidden caves and is still adventurous despite being more than 10 years older than me. (pictures to be posted soon…)
Before I could speak fluent Thai, my country family would take me to expensive restaurants that I really had no interest in because they thought this is how all Americans like to roll. Now that my Thai has improved, it amazes me they know exactly what activities I like – because they love it too! From jungle hikes to local food vendors, Phattalung has become my favorite secret in Thailand.
Life in the countryside takes much love, labor, and patience since majority of the time is spent outside cultivating and harvesting crops in 100 degree weather. My family are living examples of “stewards of the Earth”. They makes their living as farmers, and it has not always been easy. As nice as it seems to plant seeds, water them, and wait for it to grow, farmers must cooperate with the laws of Mother Nature – which are always not predictable. Here’s a video I made of my family at work:
My mother, the eldest daughter out of 8 children, left Phattalung when she was 14 years old and moved to Bangkok by herself for school and work – all because she did not want to live her life on a farm. My grandmother, Yai, recalls a letter written by my mom once that read, “When I’m hungry, I drink water. When I’m thirsty, I drink water.”
My mother’s main goal was to move to America and make money. My father was my mother’s ticket to America since he had been there before for work. Little did my mother know his occupation consisted of peeling carrots with other Mexican workers at the time, and when they moved to America in the 70s they lived in a cramped apartment with recent refugees from Laos and Cambodia in Long Beach. It took 20 years for my parents to move out of the hood and into the upper-middle class town of Cerritos – and then I was unexpectedly born.
I find it interesting that I have relocated to Long Beach these past years and now I am back in my parent’s home country. I have unintentionally retraced their steps until I have ended up at the core of it all, and now the only way to move is forward from here. P’Kai is so much better now and hopefully I get to see him at the next rehearsal in Bangkok. It has been nothing with blessings being with Kai Jo brothers, who have the same Phattalung roots as me, and I am riding on the waves of life by taking this time to further explore before going back to America. I guess I have had to let go of my plans to truly follow one that has already been laid out by my ancestors.
I was always afraid that when my mom would no longer be around, I would have no knowledge of where her family was in Thailand. My children would be completely assimilated into American culture with no interest of their ethnic heritage, but now I feel blessed I will always have a place to come back to.
Before, villages were formed by large offsprings. Today, we form communities in the areas we are raised in. I will never forget my momma’s village AND my home back in Long Beach, CA!
Driven by two worlds and working to bridge them as one within myself…
SANKOFA : “Go back to fetch it.” Learning from the past in order to build for the future.
Surprise! I’ve actually become the new keyboard player for the reggae band that I most admire here in Thailand, which is the Kai Jo Brothers. They are like my long lost brothers since both of our parents come from the same village, Phattalung, and it has been nothing but love. Next week we actually have a show inPhattalung, which is a 10 hour drive down south. We will be performing at the beautiful lotus lake called Talay Noi and there I hope to send prayers and thanks to grandmother’s ashes.
Aside from that, I have spent a lot of time staying indoors or away from tourist areas. Yesterday was my first time actually taking the Skytrain (Bangkok’s railway system) to visit a friend from Los Angeles, and our destination was indeed full of tourists or “farang”, which in Thai translates to foreigner. After getting off, I was overwhelmed by the amount of homeless women I saw with children. I was compelled to give them something but was warned not to because it will keep them on the streets. However, I couldn’t ignore the scars on some of their bodies and their bags of belongings. As much as I tried to justify their situation to make myself feel more apathetic, I couldn’t help but to conjure up the possibilities of their circumstances:
Could this woman have been a victim of sex trafficking and found a means to escape after becoming pregnant?
What if this one was abused by her husband and she took the baby before facing anymore trauma?
Did she migrate from the countryside with little to no means of income, raped while looking for work, and left to fend for herself with no support from family due to fear of shame?
She’s a drug user. She deserves it.
I, as always, was told to be less sensitive or else I’ll get myself into too much trouble overanalyzing. So as soon as we reached the restaurant, thoughts of these women faded until dinner was done and we had walk the streets once more. My meal was so good I didn’t want my feeling of natural ecstasy to disappear at the sight of these homeless women again, so I walked on the opposite side of the road – hoping to avoid any eye contact or interaction.
I realized I haven’t written in a while and now it’s time for new music. I borrowed a keyboard from one of my musician friends here in Bangkok and put on some artists I’ve really been inspired by lately. Today’s inspiration: I have to thank Nigerian/German artist Nneka waking me up to the reality of the poverty I see around me – especially of my own sisters.
(music has yet to be recorded, but I hope you enjoy the lyrics for now.)
You see my people in the streets
They’re all in the likeness of me.
But everybody keeps on walking,
Guess I’m the only one who sees
and think of the trials they must have gone through,
Walking for miles, some with no shoes
to concrete jungle looking for work.
Some may succeed, others will get hurt.
Oh poverty always has a beginning.
But we choose to be comfortable in our surroundings.
What has become of we? Fend for ourselves and nobody else.
We pretend to be free – at the expense of someone else.
You see my little sister, oh
We’re always blaming the ladies.
But how could she beat herself?
Those scars came from somebody else.
Now she begs in the street
With the baby on her knees
and she’s praying not only to God
but to me.
Will the Savior save her, or is it We?
Guess I’ll make myself feel better,
Give a dollar or three.
Oh poverty always has a beginning.
But we choose to be comfortable in our surroundings.
What has become of we? Fend for ourselves and nobody else.
We pretend to be free – at the expense of someone else.
Why, are we fussing and fighting for more?
Yes, it’s the same seed that can turn something small into war.
Why, did so many innocent die?
Those who survive still got a long way to stay alive
Oh poverty always has a beginning.
But we choose to be comfortable in our surroundings.
What has become of we? Fend for ourselves and nobody else.
We pretend to be free – at the expense of someone else.
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READ PERSONAL STORIES OF PEOPLE FROM SANAM LUANG, BANGKOK’S LARGEST HOMELESS SLUM… AND STEPS THE COMMUNITY IS DOING HELP.
The longer I stay in Bangkok, the more I feel like I’m back in Los Angeles.
Gotta give it up to Lauryn Hill, who in turn was inspired by Athea and Donna - Uptown Top Ranking for this one!
This one goes out to all of you damn backpackers. Yes, including me.
STRICTLY ROOTS
We don’t want those dibby dibby sounds,
We don’t want those dibby dibby sounds.
We don’t want those dibby dibby sounds.
We don’t want, no, no we don’t want no
Nah pop, no style. I’m strictly roots.
Nah pop, no style. I’m strictly roots.
America be dropping all dem bombs.
America be dropping all dem bombs.
America be dropping all dem bombs.
America be dropping all dem bombs
From Vietnam to Cambodia and Laos
Can you hear the people scream and shout?
Fya fya, ashes are the clouds.
See them coming, you see dem running?
Disease is spreading all around.
Daddy’s body, no where to be found.
Momma makes money when soldiers are in town
using her body, but none of them love she –
America be dropping all dem bombs. (x4) We don’t want those dibby dibby sounds (x4)
Monsanto, Agent Orange.
Kill all de crops will all your poison.
People cry to fix my baby.
America, where is that money?
Secret War – from Laos to Thailand.
Hide in the hills, the Hmong and Karen.
No home to go back to, no country to claim.
Picked up a rifle defended away as –
America be dropping all dem bombs. (x4) We don’t want those dibby dibby sounds (x4)
Today we think that it is okay.
We’re taking pictures of their smiling face.
But the pain can never be erased.
No tourists, no money come their way.
Just know the struggles that we went through
To bring our story back to you.
Just think twice before you abuse
The reasons why you can travel through
Southeast Asia.
So Anna and I finally parted ways *tears!*. She’s back to America to work her new 9-5 while I am still discovering my roots with what dollars I have left. Yay! But in the meantime, next week is the International Reggae Festival in Chiang Mai – which means, even though I was just there and spent a 9 hour bus ride coming back to Bangkok, I will be back in the same city within 7 days!
I never mentioned this on this blog, but I’m actually a part of an independent record label called “Reggae Village” based in Bangkok, Thailand, and though none of my content is reggae they have asked if I could represent neo-soul while staying true to my Thai roots and American upbringing. It’s no lie, I was born and raised American – with a Thai fist. thanks, mom and pops!
( http://www.www.paireggaefest.com/ )
Anyways, during mine and Anna’s trip to Chiang Mai, there were certain things that I refused to be a part of. First is the trekking. I absolutely do not approve of trekking to the villages and using these refugees of war as a photo opportunity. These tribes include the Hmong and the Karen tribes that are left, yet little do tourists know that they were forced out of their homes during the war in the 70s where the fled to Thailand for refuge. However, since they are known as “People without a nation” they have no land to claim so their agricultural practices could become an issue of ownership with the Thai government. So their alternative means of survival? Tourism. And it is a sad reality that many of the hill tribes people will come down to the Chiang Mai city to sell their trinkets, or will surround trekkers in hopes they will get their day’s dollar. I do not want to be a part of this practice and although I acknowledge their hustle, it is damaging to their culture since it has become of monetary value versus customary and spiritual.
(I encourage everyone to do their research on the Secret War implemented by the American Government on Laos. Although this genocide was committed 30 years ago, the effects of war are alive and well today. Not all Hmongs are in tribes catering to tourists. Many of them still remain hidden in the jungle for fear of getting caught and killed by Laotian government. Let us not forget it was the Americans which originally used them against Laos and are not providing assistance!)
Second thing I’m not down with is the elephant riding or elephant shows. It’s quite simple: animal abuse! Now before calling me a tree hugger, please acknowledge Thailand’s cultural history with elephants. Not only were they used as a symbol of royalty, but they were some of our greatest companions when it came to farming. Even my own grandmother owned three elephants and used them during her time in the jungle and in the rice crops. However, issues like deforestation, poaching, and and a greater lack of natural resources have caused these animals to drastically deplete. Just within ten years their numbers have shrank in half! Now,the majority of elephants today are bred for one main purpose: TOURISM! They are trained to do stupid things like ride bicycles, play soccer, or paint a picture just to name a few. They are forced to carry several people on heavy steel seats everyday – and the lack of obedience or energy results in tazoring or stabbing. They are drugged up to increase their stamina and are forced to live in small spaces while often times being starved to death.
However, I was prepared for an alternative! There is a great place called Elephant Nature Park which actually rescues elephants from these harsh conditions and brings them to a sanctuary where they can roam free. Elephant Nature Park was founded by a local Thai activist named Lek, who could not longer withstand the abuse of these precious animals she saw around her. After tirelessly protesting, she saved whatever money she could to buy a large plot of land and took all of her rescued elephants there. Now, she only allows small groups everyday to come in where they are educated about the issues elephants face. In the sanctuary, visitors are not allowed to ride elephants nor are there any shows involved. Instead, they are given the opportunity to walk them through the jungle and bathe with them!
Unfortunately, the limit for people going into Elephant Nature Park was full for the days we were in town so we couldn’t partake in it, but I encourage everyone to check it out if they are ever in Chiang Mai: http://www.elephantnaturepark.org
And alternative to trekking? ZIP LINING through the untouched jungle! And being the overly conscious thinker that I am, I had to be picky about the company I’d go with. In Chiang Mai, you will see advertisements for “Flight of the Gibbon” surrounding the city. The less promoted one will be “Jungle Flight”. Their major difference? Price, for one. But two, Jungle Flight (also the cheaper option) is run by the local Thai people while Flight of the Gibbon is international and heavily catered towards tourists. Most people will go to Flight of the Gibbon because of its ‘reputation’, but I see it as they have more money for heavier marketing since their package is almost twice as much as the other company! anyways, I had a great time kickin’ it with my peoples:
Link for Jungle Flight: http://www.jungle-flight.com
On the bus ride home, I wanted to find a way to express my concerns about tourism without coming off as a preacher on the microphone. So what better way than to do with through a song? Lyrics will be posted up soon… Time to rest up so I can prepare for my first day of rehearsal tomorrow with the band. Eek!
