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…
thank you June =]