the farang chronicle...the farang chronicle morgan miller orientation small victories hold your...

�

The Farang Chronicle

Morgan Miller

ORIENTATION

Small VictoriesHold your breath. Stay as still and stiff as possible. Trust that the

arms of near strangers will pass you safely through a hole, 4 feet off of the ground. In the second orientation activity our group faced the formidable task of passing twenty-seven students through holes in a net without anyone touching the netting. And after seven long hours of frustration, perseverance, and small victories our last member stepped through the net, into the arms of friends. Each of us learned something different about ourselves and the other group members in those seven hours, just as each person fit differently through the holes. We learned to laugh with each other, to adapt to the situation, to step up or back. I realized in that seven hour space that I have the privilege of working with an incredibly motivated group of people this semester, a group that will seek and meet its goals, a group that values the successes of every member. Hold your breath. Get ready. This is CIEE Thailand Fall 2009. Anne West

University of Michigan Environmental Science

Volume X CIEE Thailand Fall 2009 Orientation Newsletter September 16, 2009

Two weeks ago, we gathered as the 39th group of CIEE Thailand students in Bangkok, where we shared stories of our travels, personal histories and homes. We all bring something unique to the group, and are ready for this semester to bring a different way of learning. To get ready for the work we’ll do together, we’ve been pushed to find and develop our group process – analyzing ourselves and how we work with each other. Our program focuses on community collaboration at a grassroots level, and next week we start participating in this learning process firsthand. With overwhelming speed, we’ve picked up a bit of Thai, been welcomed into new families amidst heartfelt moments and sometimes hilarious misunderstandings, and engaged with the first of many Thais who have stories to share with us. These are the first stories that we would like to share with you.

— CIEE Khon Kaen, Thailand Fall 2009

Jenny McGinnis

Volume X September 16, 2009

�

A loud cheer erupts. Claps, back slaps and huge smiles fill the room. Seven hours from start to finish. This is orientation activity two. Twenty-seven American university students manipulating their bodies through a structure resembling a volleyball net and its two supporting poles. Touch one of the plastic guard wires in the net and you have to start over. Plus you need to get every one through a different gap, using each small geometric space only twice. Well you can cross back through but you need to perform

Houdini acts and contort yourself through with your team’s help. I must say that it also can be a bit tough for that final person stuck alone on the starting side. Have you ever seen a bank heist Hollywood suspense thriller? There always seems to be a scene with a mass of multi-angled red lasers in the vault that Sean Connery or Tom Cruise must navigate to reach the cash or special memory chip. Well our acrobatic endeavor resembled this greatly. While the struggles of our challenge tested the energy and patience of our recently introduced team members, everyone was still there at the end in both body and spirit. The excitement, feelings and reward of success could be seen on our smiling faces. A group hug helped complete our lengthy lesson on teamwork, fortitude and communication. With this experience I feel that a familiarity and trust has started to grow into all of our persons. I’m excited and optimistic to see where our days, months and six additional orientation activities will take us as a group. Who knows? By then we may even be special agents. Only time will tell.

I have been in Thailand for nearly a month, and I am still waiting for the semester to begin. The past few weeks have been riddled with mind-numbing group orientation activities followed by equally unproductive hour-long discussions. I understand the purpose- to bond us as a group and enhance our ability to work together since we will be working together all semester. However, I have now done these activities at least a dozen times with a variety of groups, enough to know that they neither accurately reflect the group’s ability to work together nor are they reflected upon come time to actually work together.

Why are we wasting our time? Not to mention, these activities discredit the fact that we are all established university students, adults rather, who are able to work through problems and come together as a group without being forced to. I am 22 years old. I know how to adapt to work with people whose personality is not like mine. At the end of seven hours of passing people through a net without touching the sides or passing a ball around a circle without dropping it, I am not sure why I am supposed to feel a sense of accomplishment. What was actually achieved? Can I put it on a resume? Will I remember that feeling years from now? Is

it even something I would waste my time writing home about? I actually don’t know why I would feel anything except a sense of frustration that I just wasted seven hours that I could have spent in Thailand. The fact that we are nearly the only Americans in the city of Khon Kaen is enough to bond us as a group. Rather than sequestering us from the culture, the reason why we came to Thailand in the first place, for a week, we should be out experiencing the city, the people, and the unfamiliar customs. These shared experiences are what will bond us.

A Different PersPective

An Acrobatic Orientation Activity

Nicole KeimerNortheastern University Philosophy

Scott PulidoUniversity of Michigan English Literature & Pre- Med

Jenny McGinnis


�

Thailand is, for the most part, a Buddhist country. In some ways this is obvious. Monks walk through the streets. Pointy temples, or Wats, jut into the skyline. Bustling markets enfold Buddha statues. Walking around a lake in Khon Kaen with my host family, I noticed the spiritual structures we passed only after my mother and sister had put their hands together, wai’ed, and gestured for me to do the same. As a group, we have had several Buddhist experiences. The

women of Nong Jahn brought us to the small monastery outside the village. We helped carry armfuls of food and watched in silence while a male intermediary passed rice, fish, vegetables, and bamboo to the row of monks, many of whom sported tattoos. A few days later, our tour of downtown Khon Kaen culminated in a visit to the Wat, where we left boughs of flowers on an alter and crisscrossed the plaza placing incense and candles in sand-filled bowls. Our reward (or punishment) was to shake containers of flat plastic sticks, trading in the first one to fall out for paper fortunes that told us how far away our soul mates were, how successful we would be in business, or, in my case, that we were a boat lost in a storm. Finally, we were introduced to meditation. Our teacher explained that its purpose is to develop concentration and to train oneself to look at things in their most

basic nature. Arranged on straw mats, we repeated statements to ourselves like “right arm is heavy” and “nature is feeling” as we tried to hold still. Still, my experience with Buddhism in Thailand has remained a cultural curiosity. This is not a nation of monks: the people here are people like any others. It is still not clear to me what makes this country and its people Buddhist. How does it affect their daily lives? How does it influence the workings of the country? Religion and politics are not typically the first thing you discover when you meet a person, and perhaps the same goes for most countries. I just hope that as we get to know each other better, Thailand and I will get past the small talk, and I will learn more about what’s behind the orange robes and respectful gestures for ordinary people here.

Wai?

Ana Kostioukova

Liz AeschlimannCarleton College Cognitive Science

Two weeks into the program, seven Thai language lessons under my belt, and I would have never imagined I would be dancing and swaying my arms through all of it. We are learning how to speak Thai the way one would learn a language in their development years. There is no speaking English in class (mai poot pa sa awng greet), we repeat the words spoken from our Ajaans (teachers) while associating those words to images and actions presented before us. The Thai language has an alphabet of sounds whose tones can be changed or modified with the addition of a vowel or tone mark. There are five tones in the language varying from rising to descending all depending on your pronunciation, to maintaining a uniform tone. The Ajaans present the tones by moving their hands in the motion of how we should enunciate them. Several of the other students and I mimic their motions and take a step further by moving our heads in a similar fashion. This might be why our Ajaans have a permanent

smile on their face or maybe they just try to hold back their laughter watching twenty-seven students bobbing their heads and swaying their arms in the earnest attempt to learn a language. One could walk into our Thai lesson at any time and see possibly many others and me looking like we are trying to bust a move like its Saturday night at a disco club. However, this time it is not because I love to dance but because dancing is the best way I can learn how to speak Thai.

THAI LANGUAGE CLASS

Koon Yag Dten? Do You Want To

Andreu NeriOccidental CollegePolitical Science

Ana Kostioukova


�

We are a group of American university stu-dents mainly accustomed to English and other Western languages. For us, listening to a native Thai speaker first comes off as a random jumbling of foreign noises. We started to understand the drastic differences that make these noises so incomprehensible in our first few days of Thai language class. For one, Thai is a tonal language. The word for mother can easily be confused with the word for dog if the speaker fails to use a rising or falling

tone. The Thai language also incorporates many sounds that Westerners never before asked their mouths to cre-ate. For example, attempt to pronounce the ng sound found in “dancing” at the beginning of a word (ngaan). In attempting to read and write Thai, we daily face these difficulties on top of the challenge of learning an entire-ly new alphabet. One can imagine the confused looks we farangs are accustomed to receiving on a daily basis. The Thai language class initially drills the tones, vocabulary, and letters into our heads. The oth-er components of the program force us to truly learn the language and allow us to reach a point of com-fortable exchange with Thai natives. Home-stays with non-English speaking families make learning the lan-guage imperative for any personal interaction, or even just to ask, “Where is the bathroom?” While At Khon Kaen University, the presence of our Thai roommates provides all of us with the opportunity to speak Thai every day. I think it is safe to say that none of us will be proficient Thai linguists at the end of the program. Nevertheless, the cheerful inviting laughs of the Thai people serve as plenty of encouragement to continue to make mistakes until reaching a mutual understanding.

Dan HebertUniversity of RichmondLeadership Studies

Dog? Doctor? Mom?

“Fang na ka, duu na ka, mai puut!” The mantra of the Thai instructors, deployed when anyone attempts to speak paa-saa-Ang-rit or loses focus during the final hour of lessons, is seared into our brains. It is a class of mimicry, as we poor students try to imitate sounds and tones which don’t exist in our native tongue. A picture of a business-man is held up; nak-tu-ra-git! nak-tu-ra-git! nak-tu-ra-git! Goes the chorus. Of course, it’s really the only way to learn the language. Any tonal missteps and rather than complementing a household’s beauty (suai), you could be wishing it bad luck (also suai). This particular nuance I didn’t fully realize until after the first homestay. Fortunate-ly, when Thais are made uncomfortable, they simply smile and continue, leaving us clueless farangs, well, clueless. Despite the deserved self-deprecation, I am amazed at the sheer volume of Thai vocabulary we’ve picked up in two short weeks. I can talk about what I like to do in the morning, barter for shoes, or-der food, count really high, tell people what things I like, tell people what things I don’t like, and say thank you. A lot. We’ve learned important words like pet (spicy) and nit noy (just a little), which are both essential words for gastronomic survival. But as comfortable as we feel while sitting in Thai class, there are certainly real-world moments which make us realize why we need to keep going back for more. I failed my most recent Thai test: yesterday morning I awoke at 6 AM and found, to my shock and surprise, seven strangers sitting in my dorm room, patiently gazing at me from several feet away on my room-mate’s bed. I said hello (sa wa dee krap) and fumbled for the next words. In my half-asleep stupor I attempt-ed a question in broken Thai that prompted only curious tilts of heads and blank stares. A few long and silent minutes passed, me sitting in my bed and them on theirs, until my roommate Kai walked in and in-troduced me to what turned out to be his family. Grandmother, aunt, uncle, cousins, the whole crowd!

Good Morning!

Jon SpringfieldDavidson CollegePolitical Science & Music

Sarah Powers


�

Nong Jahn Exchange

My first homestay in Thailand; what am I getting myself into? Questions buzzed through my mind as the Nong Jahn homestay quickly approached. We were told by the staff that we were going to a village in a national park and would be paired up with another student for a one-night homestay with a Thai family that doesn’t speak English. Everyone in the village is a farmer and lives off the land. During our shared meals in the village, we ate rice from their fields, bamboo shoots from the forest and drank fresh rain water. Most of their food is grown locally. Any extra food they grow, they sell in the town to buy things from the outside world.

The houses are made out of bamboo or wood and some smaller structures are made out of clay. Most families have one motorcycle for the father to travel to their rice field a few kilometers away. The entire community is almost completely self-contained. They have cell phones and received a few solar panels from the past government. The electricity is used to charge cell phones or charge radios. Nong Jahn is a very close-knit community and they told us they had to be close-knit in order to survive. They help each other when needed and set up an emergency fund in case one family falls on hard times.

This might sound like poverty but it was quite the opposite. Granted I only spent one night there, but on the surface it seemed like they had everything they needed and maybe even a bit more. They can live comfortably because each family has their own land (which is shared among the village). They don’t need handouts and money from the rich Americans and would never steal anything from us. As night fell, flash lights became the only source of light. I fell asleep with mental images of community living in a much different way than I had experienced before.

Living off the Forest

Brodie HenryChamplain CollegeInternational Business

Sarah Powers


�

As the van navigated the bumpy back road towards Nong Jahn village, I peered out the windows with a sense of excitement. We were about to experience our first home stay. Nong Jahn is a community of farmers that depends on their crops and the forest for survival. However, they live with the constant threat of eviction from their land, which was declared a national forest by The National Park Act of 1961. Twice already, the villagers were forced by the government to leave their homes. With nowhere else to go they returned to Nong Jahn and are working to get a community land title for the right to own the land they have lived on for generations. Upon arrival, we were welcomed by the community and introduced to our families. I had a mom, a dad, two sisters and a brother who was studying to be a monk. They led me to their home, which was a simple elevated wooden shanty. There were three rooms separated by sheets and an outdoor bathroom with a squatting toilet and a wash bin for showering. They had little in terms of material goods, but they were willing to share what little they had with me and their community. Our night in Nong Jahn was spent playing with the kids, helping to prepare dinner (although they laughed at our pathetic attempts to peel pumpkins) and learning about their daily lives. Their hospitality and kindness was humbling, and got me thinking about what it means to be a family, and part of a community. They seem to form deeper relationships and understand a more peaceful aspect of life, ideas that I tend to overlook on a regular basis. I hope to learn from their spirit and gain a broader perspective on what it means to be a host, a friend, a family and a community.

While my stay thus far in Thailand has brought me countless new and exciting ex-periences, perhaps the best of these has been riding in a Tuk Tuk. Try as I may, I have not yet figured out why these glorious machines have not taken America by storm. What could be better than riding on a sparkly cushioned seat with a friend or six, the wind in your hair, watching the world go by as you cruise to your destination? Weaving between buses, cars and taxis at speeds of 50 kilometers per hour on a three-wheeled motorcycle brings a rush that no other mode of transportation can provide. Just today some friends and I had the good fortune of riding in a tuk tuk (for 100 baht, of course). We had walked an hour and a half to visit a forest temple, and after paying our respects to the Buddha and taking some photographs of the monks, we emerged from the forest dreading our walk home in the 95 degree heat. Not 100 yards into our journey, however, what do we see shimmering in the distance, headed right for us? A hot pink tuk tuk. We made a mad dash across the road, flagged down the driver, and climbed aboard.

Tuk Tuk Travel

Haley CampbellBates CollegeEnvironmental Studies

Jordan TempletonOhio UniversityEconomics

Liz Aeschlimann

Family and Community

Jordan Templeton


�

My first experience with Nong Jahn was interesting. I went in there literally not knowing what I was getting myself in to. As we kept driving higher and higher up into the mountains, the roads turned from asphalt to dust. I had a feeling I was getting myself into a pretty ridiculous experience. When we arrived at the village, I immediately met my homestay family and left to see their home. They were a family of banana farmers, and when I walked into their home I was given a bowl of bananas and told to shower.

I think my favorite part of the whole trip was my little brother, Poi Fai. At first the kid just didn’t like me. The first time I picked him up he actually punched me in the eye, and it was a good punch too. Eventually though, I got through to him, and by the end of our stay he was running up to me every time he saw me. At the end of the trip I gave him the venom bracelet I had on, and he cried as we pulled away.

Nong Meg lay in my lap, gazing at the moon that seemed to be riding along next to us. His sisters’ hair blew in the night sky, blending with the blurs of street lights. Nong Mem and Nong View erupted in laughter each time the flash of my camera went off; they clung to the sides of the truck, reaching across to show me how much of my face had been bumped outside the photo frame. Nong Boat made window-squished faces at us from the inside of the truck. When we slowed down the four of us toppled over each other into the corner of the truck bed, looking up to see the white glow of the Wat emerging over the edge of our orange truck. Nong View grabbed my hand to help me down from the truck as quickly as I had been made to climb in. “Suai, mai?” She pointed to the Wat like she was reaching for the top of it, her wide eyes reflecting its glow. Before I could agree that it was beautiful, I was kicking off my shoes to step into a photo in front of it. I smiled for the picture, relieved to be where I had ended up. Yaai had pushed me into the bathroom after dinner to “Ab nam! Ab nam!” and my siblings had pulled me into the truck straight out of the shower. I was clueless of our destination, failing miserably to use my broken Thai to ask where we were going. Yaai was trying to explain something to me in Thai, pointing at the dragons and the lights and the cauldrons of incense. I was relieved my siblings gave me an escape from pretending I understood what she was saying – “Yaai!” When she saw what they were calling her towards, my grandmother let go of my hand to scurry towards her grandchildren. Engulfed in the radiance of the Wat, my Yaai held up a cockroach the size of my hand, lifting it into the light. She smiled, so pleased with what life had given her. She gingerly placed the squirming cockroach into her coin purse and tucked it into her skirt, a moment

I continually replayed in my head in total disbelief. As the six of us held hands and walked back to the orange truck, I smiled at the night’s surprise. It was one that I could never expect, but I’ve been bracing myself to put trust in many more – as lately, I’ve understood very little of what’s going on. On my last night with them, my host family had driven me all that way just to take a family photo in front of a beautiful background. They will now remember me dressed in my pajamas in front of the Wat, and I will always wonder if Yaai went home and cooked that cockroach.

Maina Handmaker

Maina Handmaker Bowdoin CollegeEnvironmental Studies and Visual Arts

My Banana Family

Cockroaches in the Moonlight

Sagar PathakNortheastern UniversityBiology

Homestays !!!


�

Heading into our second homestay I was ad-mittedly skeptical. Having already spent a year in high school as an exchange student here in Thailand, I had a hard time believing that any meaningful relationships could be built with a family with whom we would only be spending five days. Arriving in Nongchai, a small community on the outskirts of Khon Kaen city, I eased into my temporary home with few expectations. It didn’t take long for me to realize though that personal bonds can actually be built rapidly in short periods of time. Within hours, my firecracker of a little sister was schooling me on my Isaan language skills and my host parents had adopted me as their own. By the end of the five days I knew that they would remain a part of my life throughout my stay in Khon Kean. Yet despite the in-credible hospitality and generosity they had shown me throughout the stay, I was still shocked when my host father made one of the kindest gestures I have ever re-ceived. Calling me into my sister’s bedroom where the family’s small Buddha shrine was kept minutes before we were to leave on the last morning, my father took one of his amulets directly off of the Buddha and placed it on my neck. He expressed to me that he hoped that it would help protect me once they could no longer do so. Buddha images and figures are possibly the most sacred items in Thai and Theravada Buddhist culture. Statues of the Buddha in various meditation

positions can be found virtually anywhere and every-where. Golden, life-sized statues are central to Buddhist temples throughout the country. Miniature figures can be found collected together on shrines and spirit houses, tucked away on book shelves and even hidden in the small crevasses of trees. The ubiquitous nature of Buddhas in Thailand serve as a constant reminder for lay Buddhists to uphold their commitments to the Five Precepts- to abstain from killing, lying, stealing, in-toxication and sexual misconduct. In addition to free standing figures, many Thai men choose to wear amulets around their necks that have small Buddha images cased in pendants. Although the uses and purposes of these amulets have been culturally embellished over time (one amulet may protect you from witchcraft while another will supposedly spice up your love life...) they are per-haps the most personal way that some Thais affirm and display their beliefs. Already knowing the larger impli-cations of such a gesture, I was truly humbled. Although this homestay may not have been as new and exciting of an experience for me as it was for my peers, this one gift proved to have a strong impact on me. In only five days I had discovered that the bonds created by faith and family have the power to transcend not only cul-tural and linguistic divisions, but also temporal barriers.

Thai Generosity

Hilary FordSarah Lawrence CollegeInternational/Development Studies

With only 16 hours of Thai language class I approached my new family and in a matter of minutes I had used all that I knew. Now I was left to pure human interaction. Unfamiliar with the customs of village life

and overly conscious not to offend I smiled and said thank you, not sure what else to do. It was not until I was out walking with my nong sow (little sister) that I began to relax. As we walked the streets we smiled and said more through universal gestures than we ever could through words. All around us were other CIEE students with their little siblings playing hand games and tag allowing them to climb on us as though we were jungle gyms. Their laughter, their smiles and their energy were contagious. To an outsider it would appear chaotic as though we were all insane. In reality it was these interactions that were bringing us together. If it weren’t for these children we would have all been desperately lost to the miscommunications of cultural and language barriers.

CommuniCating Without Language

Dalya HellerUniversity of WashingtonAnthropology

Jenny McGinnis


�

During one of our first nights here, CIEE or-ganizer and advisor Ajaan Decha told our group, “Lan-guage is not a barrier...the heart is all that matters.” He was directing this toward our village homestays, and the many jitters among the group regarding commu-nication with our Thai families. We had four nights to spend with a Thai elementary school student and his or her family—our first long-term village homestay experi-ence in Khon Kaen, Thailand. We were all a bit nervous. Once we were split up and sent to our respec-tive schools, we met our young students and made our way home with them as complete strangers. I was in the group at Nonchai school. My comrade was King Putarong, a scrappy, six year old whose emotional ma-turity would have led me to believe he was closer to thirteen. After briefly meeting his Meh (Mother) and Yaai (Grandmother) at their small, family owned and operated store, I found myself on the back of a motorcycle heading to their home with none other than

King at the wheel. In America this would be terrifying, but in Thailand, it’s the moments like this that have taught us all that when discomfort arises the best thing to do is usually remain calm and ride it out. King’s maturity, I believe, is what enabled him to provide such incredible hospitality toward me. Although the language barrier was difficult and we rarely under-stood each other, there was never an awkward or uncom-fortable moment. It was obvious that he had been raised incredibly well. Although his family was very gracious and friendly toward me, they worked often and lived next door in a separate house from King and I. This left King as my sole caretaker. It was interesting to observe a six-year -old bringing me food and water and showing me around. In America it may have been the other way around. It seemed that having us as guests and showing us their culture brought much enjoyment to the Thai fami-lies. For all of our main meals, we would ride down the street to the family shop to eat an assortment of dishes that Meh and Yaai had prepared throughout the day. They would always give us more than enough to eat. Through-out many of these meals, we would all laugh as we attempt-ed each others’ languages, and there was never a sense of frustration or irritability among us. Being able to follow the daily routines of the Thai families showed us all a great deal about how the they interact with one another, and it became apparent to us all that even silence doesn’t come between strangers as long as appreciation is expressed.

Appreciation

As I sat in a semi-circle with seven other Ameri-can students at Nonnchai school, I was overwhelmed with feelings of gratitude and humility during the bi see ceremony. The bi see tradition consists of tying string(s) onto one’s wrist in a gesture of welcoming and a sign of good luck and health. As visitors at Nongchai, we were welcomed into the community by a head leader who chanted what seemed to be a blessing upon us. I remember becoming aggravated by the process because the chanting felt like it was a never-ending process. Plus, my legs were in a cramped position and they be-gan to fall asleep. As a result, I began to wish that the entire process would come to an end in a timely manner. However, when the leader, an administrator of

the school and everyone else in attendance started to tie pieces of string around my wrist, all thoughts of wantingthe bi see ceremony to end immediately evaporated from my mind. As the first four pieces of string were tied to my wrist, my older sister, Bee, held my shoulders in a way that comforted me, letting me know that I had family to rejoice with me during such an important moment for me and the community. I have never heard of any-thing even close to the bi see ceremony taking place in America, and I can’t imagine a portion of an Ameri-can community coming together to welcome strang-ers into their lives. The experience led me to be amazed by the generosity and kindness of the Thai people.

A Peak into a Bi See Ceremony

Katie Steinhardt Goucher CollegePsychology

Morgan MillerArizona State UniversityInterdisciplinary Studies

Morgan Miller


�0

I came to Thailand knowing that I was em-barking on an academic and personal journey unlike any that I had experienced before. I was excited, but also conscious not to form any expectations. That said, one of the key features that drew me to this study abroad program was the many home-stays stu-dents participate in. During these, we live with a fam-ily in the Isaan region of Thailand for approximately one week. These experiences will “change your life” I was told by numerous past program participants. I was thus very excited for my first stay in a community less than twenty minutes away from our dorm rooms at Khon Kaen University. Filled with nerves and a very limited Thai vocabulary, I walked the muddy road to my “home.” By nightfall I had met my entire family and soon learned that simply smiling, nodding my head and showering about ev-ery four hours would get me through the upcoming days despite cultural differences and my complete inability to understand a word of what my fam-ily said. I enjoyed the time I spent with my family and the overwhelming generosity of these strangers to the farang (foreigners) who had entered their vil-lage. I was even inspired to keep a journal, an exer-cise I have never been able to maintain in the past. As this home-stay was a part of our orientation and not focused on a specific subject, I was mainly trying to absorb and, essentially, feel all that I was ex-periencing. Yet it was not until my mom brought me and my three young siblings to the one-ride fair that had come to the village that I was overwhelmed with emotion. As the children laughed and flew around the rickety swing ride, I watched the late twenty to forty-year-old men operating the attraction laugh as they blew cigarette smoke in the children’s faces and hit the heads of those on the ride with a plastic mal-let (which, by the parents’ and children’s reactions, was not the fun they had bargained for). For the first time, I felt completely overwhelmed and deeply sad-dened that local families were giving these carnival workers their much needed and deserved money. After about an hour, we began our walk home. Still struck by what I had observed, I passed a group of teenagers from the village. They walked

paired off in couples, wearing slightly inappropriate clothing and listening to the American R&B/ Hip-Hop artist Akon. Though I smiled at them, the ges-ture was unreturned and their faces showed the same teenage angst present in every American high school student. I was taken aback by the harsh contrast the night had played to the generosity I experienced at home and the local school. I then remembered why I had decided to come to Thailand- to learn about the character and challenges of people around the world. While the homes in this village have a single room and a tin roof as opposed to the prefab town-houses in my city, the villagers, at their core, were just people. My home-stay family, the teenagers and the men at the carnival were living their lives just as I, my friends and my family are living ours. Though our lifestyles and cultures and unmistakably different, I realized that humans everywhere are truly the same. While I had expected to learn only from the kindness of my family, experiencing both the warmth and negative aspects of the village gave me a connec-tion to the human race that I did not know I lacked. Here I was, literally on the other side of the world, spending the night at a carnival with the same foul-mouthed, cigarette-smoking men I could easily find in America. Bored teenagers wandered the street and children cried when their mothers were out of sight. If you took away the stray animals and added in a modern plumbing system, I could have called it home. I certainly hope this revelation does not come across as negative or disheartening because I feel it is, in fact, refreshing. It means that we can connect to people everywhere regardless of language, religion or nationality because, together, we are humanity. We should want to travel and learn about the struggles of other humans around the world because these struggles could be ours if we were only born in a dif-ferent country, under a different government. It is this sentiment upon which I hope to further reflect and learn during my next few months in Thailand.

Carnival Revelations

Katherine Cahn Georgetown UniversityPhilosophy


��

The last time I was in Thailand my own religion never seemed to arise in conversation, neither within my homestay nor with anyone from my group. Though for some reason, this topic has become recurrent this time around. Since Thai culture is predominantly based around religion, it is no surprise that athiesm is a foreign concept for most. When I first met my Thai roommate, Top, he informed me of his passion for Roman Catholi-cism and his hopes to one day become a minister. When he then asked what my own religion was I informed him that I had none. He seemed stunned for a moment be-fore finally agreeing this wasn’t an issue (though possi-bly to be polite). Then, about a week later, sitting with my younger host brother, he took out a book, which

contained pictures of multiple religions. As he point-ed to each one I had to consistently shake my head, ‘no,’ until he finally understood and asked, “Mai mee?” (no have?). I nodded and his jaw dropped. Coming from my community in the U.S. where religion has become a ‘do it if you want to’ ritu-al, I was taken aback to realize how prominent it is in Thai life and the every day routine. I haven’t discussed my absence of religion in years, and now I’m forced to confess it each week, resulting in the same response.

After a very restful first night at my homestay, waking up every hour to the thunder of a train located five yards away, shivering because my little sister decided to steal my shred of blanket, and having the strong urge to wrangle the skinny rubber neck of the rooster shrieking on the other side of the wall, I got up refreshed and ready for the day. When I was done with my colorful breakfast of purple rice and green mush with my nine-year-old sister Dew and her cousin, I was ready to take the ride to school. My host family lived quite a ways from school and Dew usually got a ride on a motorcycle from one of her uncles. I stepped outside to put on my shoes and in a sad attempt to communicate, I pointed to my motor-cycle helmet, smiled at Dew and made a little ques-tioning sound. She just looked at me like I was some kind of crazy person. I slapped that baby on, buckled it up, and grinned at my host father, who was sprin-kling some feed for those hellish, undeserving roost-ers. He just laughed at the bowling ball on top of my head. Egged on, I tried to make a joke that all cultures understand, or maybe just me, and hit myself in the head, which was now fully protected. Pa couldn’t take it, and cracked up. Meh gave me a knowing smile. Satisfied by my skills at bonding with my family, I grabbed the hands of Dew and her cousin and glanced around to find the motorcycle. Nowhere in sight. Well,

maybe we just had to go to the end of the driveway and somebody was going to pick us up there. Yes, that was it. Oops, just stepped in a pile of mud up to my ankle. And the motorcycle was…still not there. By this time, we were partially down the road. I looked back to see my parents still laughing at my apparently hilarious joke. Then, I slowly started to realize that I was walking down the road with a little girl on each side of me, I had a huge sphere of plastic around my head and there. Was. No. Motorcycle. Coming. Turning my head first to one girl, then the other, I detached myself from their clasp, so I could unbuckle my helmet and pull it off. In a ges-ture of kindness, or maybe pity, Dew took it in her arm, gave me a smile like she was trying to hold back laugh-ter and grabbed my hand again. We were on our way.

Religion in Thailand

Motorcycle Miscommunication

Jenny McGinnisWestern Michigan University Psychology

Ian SamplinNew York UniversityFilm

Jenny McGinnis


��

Last week I visited the school children of Nontan. There I was paired up with my little brother, Frank. I had the pleasure of living and getting to know Frank’s family over the next four days. Even though I only had a couple of Thai phrases under my belt, the experience allowed me to become conscious of and to better understand how vastly different Thai family dynamics are from American ones. Immediately, I noticed that their communal lifestyle instilled a strong sense of social harmony in which commitment, compromise, and tolerance are essential. Even though the father is regarded as the leader, each family member plays a significant role in effectively completing his or her daily activities.

During my time spent with Frank and his family, I became aware of the fact that a much stronger sense of responsibility is instilled in children from a young age. Children are assigned certain duties according to age

and ability, in which they learn codes of behavior that will guide them throughout later life. For example, a prominent Thai concept of family is the responsibility of the young to take care of parents in their old age. There is no feeling of being inconvenienced by this duty because the family unit is placed above all else. Thais are taught to help their family when they are young so the family survives and with the expressed knowledge that if they as an individual fall on hard times (or grow old and frail), then the family will look after them. As an American, this home-stay has helped me recognize that truly being immersed in family values is something that the West has lost. They were dispensed some time ago as we placed too much value on the individual instead of relationships.

Family Dynamics

Faranglitis

Andy MillerUniversity of Colorado, BoulderMarketing

I walked up to Nontan school, my eleven year old host sister proudly holding my hand as we bustled by the curious eyes of her Thai classmates. I had gestured toward my student peers who were sitting under a tree, attempting to tell her in my broken Thai that I should be waiting with them. She simply smiled and pointed into the school, insisting I come with her. Assuming that she knew more about what the heck was going on, and unable to resist her eager nudges, I allowed myself to be whisked away up the concrete steps and into a dark classroom. The classroom was similar to any American classroom, with rows of desks and vocabulary scrawled onto the blackboard. My host sister sat down and began eating her breakfast, while I wandered about the room. My attention was drawn to the blackboard where English words had been neatly spelled out next to their Thai counterparts. My eyes followed

down the row of simple words until they hit “gresstings”. “Gresstings?!” I laughed, “This isn’t English!” I told my host sister in Thai. Between bites, she simply gave me a smile. Disappointed by my previous failure to impress, I began to write some of the words in Japanese on the board, knowing that my sister and her classmates had studied Japanese along with English. I even wrote a few in Russian for good measure. I wanted to be the cool American, someone my sister could show off to her classmates and be proud of. Just as I was finishing up satisfying my ego, a parade of Thai children traipsed in. Spotting me, they surrounded me at a safe distance and began bombarding my little host sister with questions about her “farang.” I smiled proudly as they fawned over me, wondering what sorts of questions they were asking her. Suddenly, the room went quiet, and they looked up at me with looks of concern spread across their

little faces. Confused, I said the only real Thai phrase I knew. “Hello,” I said with a big smile and a wave. They shied backwards, looking from me to my sister. My smile faltered as one by one the children slowly began pulling out anti-virus masks and putting them on. I was shocked. Here I was, going to be the pride of my Thai sister, and I had come to be a walking plague! I stood dumbfounded as my little sister began speaking very quickly in Thai. With a few more questions, and uneasy looks, the masks slowly came off. My pride hurt a bit but the misunderstanding was resolved. And at least it was a good laugh.

Sarah PowersBeloit CollegeInternational Relations and Modern Languages


��

The HIV/AIDS Mock Unit prepared us for the future units that we will participate in. The unit included speaking with those living with HIV/AIDS, those affected personally by HIV/AIDS and people working to improve and sustain the lives of People Living with HIV/AIDS. It accomplished its goal of preparation for the challenges and experiences which we will face; it also taught a valuable lesson about life. Mama is a 9 year-old girl living with her grandmother in Thailand. She attends school, likes to jump rope and her favorite color is pink. Mama was born HIV positive. Her mother died a few years ago from the infection, and her father died in a car accident. She knows she’s sick, but doesn’t like to talk about it.When people think of children born HIV positive, they imagine

them sick, low-energy and afraid to go to school. But Mama broke the stereotype. She had endless energy and a contagious smile. She jumped rope better than any of the five students visiting her and taught our group brand new games. She proves the fact that life isn’t about being sick or scared- it’s about living and enjoying every moment.Even though the visit only lasted an hour, it was about more than

just living with HIV/AIDS- it was about living. As a continuation of the experience with Mama we are hoping to have the chance to invite her to spend an afternoon at Khon Kaen University. Every day, Mama fights for her life with a smile, a laugh and the strength to live life as if she was like any other 9-year old girl- because she is.

I’m a clean person; I shower every day. But everyday isn’t enough in Thailand. In fact, most times twice a day isn’t enough. I’ve experienced this as many times as my fellow CIEE students have during our short stay here. Naturally, in a hot country, showering more often than usual isn’t what a student has to adjust to. Rather the conditions in which a shower takes place is to say the least, different.

There are a few options one faces in the art of showering here in Thailand. Our dorms provide us the luxury of an electrically heated shower, certainly decent by my standards but we are only at our

dorms about half of our semester. The second option is the bucket shower, located in our home stays. A bucket shower is exactly what it sounds like: The bathroom is made of concrete and contains a large basin filled with water for the day. When you want to shower, you throw a bucket of water over yourself and it drains from the floor. Far be it for me to complain about this one, leftover conditioner in my hair from the lack of water pressure is completely worth a cold shower when retreating from the heat. However, a third option arises when the home you stay in has no bathroom. In this case, showering takes place

outside, bucket style. As a girl, I’m given a patung, a connected piece of cotton fabric that covers my body as I essentially pour my bucket water over myself (and the patung). I have yet to master the art of changing under and showering in this contraption, but after nearly flashing my entire host family and a young monk sitting nearby, I assume trial and error will have to do. Trial and error is all any of us can do in our adjustment to cultural quirks and Thai norms.

Kara HeumannIndiana UniversityInternational Studies

Mastering the Art of Ap-naam

Jumping For Hope

Rani PimentelNortheastern UniversityEntrepreneurship and Marketing

Rani Pimentel

HIV/AIDS Mock Unit


��

HIV/AIDS is a disease that for many has a great stigma associated with it. This is especially true in Thailand, where sex is often a taboo issue. So to be able to talk with a person living with HIV/AIDS in a completely opened fashion is a remarkable experience. This was the case in our exchange with HIV/AIDS patient P’Ham. After a morning of education and discussion with patients and workers, we broke down into smaller groups to exchange with people living with HIV/AIDS. P’Ham, the subject of our exchange, was a young male who was categorized as very sick. However, with his mom at his side, P’Ham appeared healthy and upbeat. He spoke openly and informatively about living with HIV/AIDS. During the exchange, P’Ham did not attempt to side step or down play his previous promiscuity (he said

he slept with over 300 women including sex workers). Accepting of his fate, P’Ham instead claimed that HIV/AIDS was proper punishment for his actions. P’Ham promoted openness for HIV/AIDS patients as the best way to undo the stigma associated with the disease. He also called for greater action by society to accept the disease. Being able to exchange with P’Ham was a truly unique experience because P’Ham’s openness created an atmosphere that invited any and all questions. Although P’Ham’s experience is just one of many that HIV/AIDS patients must face, it was an informative and interesting discussion that I will not soon forget.

Not Afraid To Talk

Angry and frustrated I sat down in the van, huffing and puffing from the heat and agitation I could feel pulsing through my body. “The face of children born with HIV/AIDS, are you kidding me?” I yelled inside my mind. “That’s not the face of HIV/AIDS!” However, the longer I sat in my seat and letting my thoughts ferment in my head on the drive back to Mahasarkham Hospital, I slowly grew conscious of how absolutely ridiculous I sounded.

Nearly an hour earlier I firmly decided to join the group of students visiting the home of a now blind nine-year-old boy. His mother delivered him at a premature weight of 2.5 pounds. At four months, his sight was compromised due to his immune system’s inability to stop a minor infection from spreading to his eyes. Judging from my own experience volunteering in an HIV/AIDS orphanage in Ethiopia, I was expecting this child, except for his blindness, to be no different in appearance and behavior from any

other healthy child his age. However, my preconception was quickly shattered. Instead of spending time playing games and singing songs, I had to adjust to a different set of circumstances. The child did not seem to acknowledge our presence, and our translator could not understand his speech. We also learned that he had no friends outside of his family. Even more upsetting was the discovery that his primary caretaker had no plans on sending him to school or of teaching him herself. It was clear to me that his premature birth and early infection affected more than his sight. It seemed that his life had stopped exactly in the same place where it had started.

Although the experience was disheartening to say the least, one could not help but rejoice at the fortunate aspects of his life. Ban Rom Yen-- the holistic health center for treatment, prevention, counseling and care for PLWHA (People Living With HIV/AIDS) supplied the boy with ARV (Anti-

Retro Viral) medication. ARVs will make it possible for him to live a relatively healthy and long life. Taking the extra step, the health center also sent representatives to educate his community about HIV/AIDS and de-stigmatized his illness among fellow villagers. Most importantly, however, he was blessed with having an aunt who selflessly assumed the responsibility over his well being, immediately after his own mother passed away from AIDS.

Although the symptoms of HIV/AIDS are not blindness and mental disability, the disease is undeniably the source of the problem. A child suffering from complications after being born with HIV/AIDS is just as representative of the issue as a luckier infected child able to go to school and lead an active life. This little boy is undeniably the face of PLWHA and perhaps a more sobering detail of the complex story.

Growing Conscious of the Truth

Ana KostioukovaClaremont McKenna CollegeEconomics & International Relations

Matt LevinUniversity of PennsylvaniaEconomics


��

A simple, stern reply to a question regarding HIV/AIDS prevention education highlighted the reality of the different cultural values in Thailand and the United States. When asked whether children in Thailand could also be used as a vehicle to spread HIV/AIDS awareness in their communities, the idea was quickly refuted: “American values are very different than those in Thailand- children cannot teach their elders.”

In both Thailand and the United States, activist groups have mobilized to raise awareness about HIV/AIDS in the local community, to wipe out stigmas associated with the illness, and to attempt to limit its spread through both medical assistance and prevention education. During an exchange with Ban Rom Yean, a Thai HIV/AIDS organization, it became clear that education is valued as a key component in the curtailment of HIV/AIDS, just as it is in the United States. However, as the exchange continued, it became clear that the method and target of the prevention education is

different. An HIV/AIDS education program that I work with in Washington, D.C. emphasizes the importance of sharing knowledge. Participants are expected to use their new information to engage with their communities and families and to challenge misconceptions. This strategy apparently has no legitimacy in Thai society. As a young American, I have grown up believing that it is natural and necessary for youth to challenge the ideals embedded in the generations before them. Youth may be more open-minded to new information and flexible in their opinions than adults who have been set in their ways for many years. As a society grows and attempts to improve human rights, it is necessary that new opinions and ideas can flourish. If the fire of new knowledge from youth is suppressed due to age hierarchies then it will be impossible to destroy the erroneous beliefs preserved by the authority of elders.

Clashing Cultures: Prevention Education

Katalyn VossGeorgetown UniversityRelations International Affairs

Ap naam- Shower Duu na ka - LookFang na ka - ListenMai puut - Don’t speak Nak tu ra git - Business manNit noy - Little bit

Nong - Younger siblingPaa saa ang grit - Speak EnglishPet - Spicy Sa wa dee - HelloSuai (rising tone) - BeautifulSuai (dropping tone) - Unlucky

Thai-English Dictionary


��

Liz AeschilmannHaley CampbellMaina HandmakerBrodie HenryAna Kostioukova

Jennifer McGinnisRani PimentelSarah PowersScott Pulido

David Streckfuss • Resident Director • [email protected] • 01-708-1852Arunee Chupkhunthod • Program Assistant • [email protected] • 01-965-3400Jintana Rattanakhemakorn • Language Coordinator • [email protected] • 01-662-3324John Mark Belardo • Program Coordinator • [email protected] • 06-639-7723

Program participants from left to right back row: Miles Baker, Podjanard Ranmeechai, Dan Hebert, Sarah Powers, Nicole Keimer, Brodie Henry, Rani Pimentel, Kara Heumann, Liz Aeschilmann, Kate Voss, Sagar Pathak, Matt Levin, Morgan Miller, Kati Cahn, Ana Kostioukova Middle Row: Tommy Russo, Jenny McGinnis, Jon Springfield, Katie Steinhardt, Andy Miller, Jordan Templeton, Sarah Priyanka Gerdes, Maina Handmaker, Shayne Thomas, Andreu Neri Front Row: Ian Samplin, Haley Campbell, Scott Pulido, Anne West, Hilary Ford, Dalya Heller, Josh Gohlike

Newsletter Editors:

the farang chronicle...the farang chronicle morgan miller orientation small victories hold your...

Documents