Drunken ghosts celebrate life

More than 2553 years ago, Buddha went off into the forest for a long time to meditate. Gone for 49 days (but eventually seeking spiritual enlightenment) the folks at home started to worry about him. They were convinced their Prince was dead deep in the forest. But eventually, after days of worry, the enlightened man emerged, and his people were so surprised to see him they thought he was a ghost. On discovering he was the real deal, the villages threw a big "glad you're not dead/ welcome back" party.


Now, I don't know about in the old days in Nepal or India, but Thailand sure knows how to throw Buddha a party. They call it the "Ghost Festival" or "Pee Tha Kon" in Thai.  Everyone dresses up in intricately painted masks made of rice baskets and wood, with matching outlandish costumes.

ghosts in the streets of dansai

too much poking. awkward.

Apparently there are customs and formal traditions involved in this festival, including finding a lucky pearl in the river and listening to 13 of Buddhas sermons.... but I didn't see any of that. It's pretty secondary to what the festival is really about : Dancing around in costume, drinking, and poking one another with huge wooden phalluses they carry around like swords. (There is really no explanation for this other than the Thai sense of humor - I've checked)**.  


During the parade, there were also a few groups of men dressed in blackface - extremely bizarre and offensive, but given the amount of racism in Thai culture, not surprising. (Again, Thai sense of humor is a little off at times, and I found no real reason for these groups to be included in the celebration)  I feel weird about posting these pictures, but I also feel it necessary ? 

ummm this is okay?

The festival took place in beautiful Isaan, Loei Province. This side of the country is less developed, full of rolling hills and rice fields, and was predictably sunny and hot that weekend. The odd thing about visiting Isaan, is that falang are still kind of a novelty. While magnificent ghost masks and spectacle danced around me, I was the one being asked multiple times to have my picture taken with locals. I even saw a few people sneak pics of me on their cellphones while I walked by - it felt nearly paparazzi-esque, and made me pretty uncomfortable. I was there with my other falang friend - and with her pale skin and red hair,  we were very foreign sights for the people of Leoi. 

This ghost-man wanted his pic with the falang, and the falang wanted a pic with the ghost man. Win-win 

Overall, another enchanting weekend of colors and celebration in Amazing Thailand.  While I certainly learned a lot about this Buddhist holiday and the culture of Isaan, the intrigue lies in that I always leave these festivals with more questions than I came with...





**Phalluses or lingam are prevalent in Thai culture, blending together a few different religious customs (In Hinduism, it represents Shiva), but typically symbolizes fertility or power. How this was particularly relevant in this festival wasn't exactly clear. But hey, why not. 

BELLS NOT BOMBS

"They will beat their swords into plowshares

And their spears into pruning hooks

Nation will not take up sword against nation,

Nor will they train for war anymore"

Isiah 2:4

While visiting Vang Vieng, Laos, I had the opportunity to visit Elephant Cave, and I was blessed with a lesson of peace. All of my Catholic/Jesuit/Karios Community friends are well familiar with the verse above, and this could not be a more beautiful example of peacemaking and turning "swords into plowshares" - or in this case - bombs into bells. 

 I would dare to say that 99% of Americans could not point to Laos on a map.  (Admittedly, I probably couldn't have either a year ago). Probably even fewer know that we decimated this country with our bombs thirty years ago. During our secret bombing of Laos during the Vietnam War, we dropped over 2 million tonnes of bombs on this tiny country - more than all of the bombs dropped during World War II altogether!!! making Laos

the most bombed country in the world. 

(More bombed than Germany? Iraq? Vietnam? Yes. yes. yes.)

As if that wasn't enough horror, an estimated 30% of these bombs never exploded, and still lay silent in fields, awaiting a plow, farmer, or playing child to come along and knock them into explosion. Thousands of people die every year in Laos from "bombies" - unexploded bombs left from American raids. Farmers and families are starving to death because they cannot plant their fields out of fear of coming across a de-facto land mine and blowing up. 

I don't feel like getting into the million other ways that we destroyed this country, because I never needed more reasons to be ashamed of American history to begin with. What did little Laos ever do to big America? (Nothing.) Why did we even do this in the first place? (Still not sure.) What are we doing now to fix these atrocities?? (Not much).

But this BELL - this beautiful bell. It's amazing to me how a community can come across such a symbol of American oppression and death to their own country and turn in into a musical instrument for their local temple. It is rung every morning and evening to call the monks to temple and prayer. This shell, just like the millions of  other ones that kill children and farmers every day in Laos, was polished and painted and turned into something made for meditation, enlightenment, and peace. This sword that is now a plowshare sends a message of hope for the reconciliation of my own country's injustices on this small nation. A transformation from violence to harmony, and a lesson to be learned for everyone.

works cited/ read for yourself:

http://www.usatoday.com/news/world/2003-12-11-laos-bombs_x.htm

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/1100842.stm

Haiku Friday

On a Thursday! Lucky you.

On Thailand........


Full Moon over sand

buckets of booze all abound

Douchebag Paradise



***


"An iced coffee, please"

But when it reaches my lips

Am I drinking cake?





***

Tuk-Tuk twenty baht

black exhaust smells quite noxious

I need a SARS mask




***


Sunburnt robes layered

Your bright curtain engulfs you

What lies underneath?





***

A sweet, sticky clump

of coconut and white rice

with mango, I drool






On American Politics.....


Since when is war Peace?

A surge of violence out East

Barack, earn your prize



***


Yo, Copenhagen!


This blue planet needs healing


Stop fucking around



***


GITMO still open



Black hoods and jumpsuits I wore


their Justice denied

welcome to sin city

Prostitution and "sex-tourism" are booming all over Thailand, but Pattaya seems to be the mecca for such a trade; it is still the Navy-boy hot spot that it was 30 years ago, and now excels at drawing old, fat, perverted men from all over the world (mainly Eastern Europe) to join the young soldiers in their sexcapades. Go-go bars and caberets line the streets, and overweight white men walk hand in hand with atttractive young Thais.

Prostitution is an ever-present evil that goes (surpringly) unchallenged in this country. Thai men and women [seem to] tolerate its presence, and even the farangs I work with claim it's "no big deal", saying things "are just different here"......

It's hard for me not to see the blatant injustice by objectifying, selling, and abusing women, not to mention its ties to the wider issues of third-world poverty and gender inequality, so I don't exactly accept the vindication of culturally-moral relativism. While prostitution is technically "illegal" in Thailand, anyone that takes a stroll down Walking Street will immediately recognize that not only is it legal, but flourishing, acceptable, and highly profitable.

Prostitution's presence in a society that is not only devout Buddhist, but also prudish and conservative in many respects , is one of the many paradoxes that keeps Thailand interesting. For this reason alone, and because I didn't want to be downer all weekend, I swallowed my liberal snobbery and heavy judgement, and became an accepting observer in the City of Sin this weekend.





they don't call it "International Meeting Street" for nothing