The Devastation
This morning I awoke to a flurry of tweets describing the violence and chaos in Bangkok, over the latest Red Shirt political protests. I never thought I would ever see a city, in a place of such tranquil happiness, blanketed in smoke from fires fueled by rage. I follow the tweets to online reports of sniper fire, army tanks rolling through downtown, grenade launches, slain journalists, and red shirt leaders surrendering to the boos of their red shirt camp. The followers deciding instead to continue the cause’s fight, and go on a rampage to loot and burn the city.
Photographs of the devastation surface. A looter throws a brick into the already shattered window of a shop, that was once a part of the now burning Central Shopping Centre. We were there when they renovated, expanded, and opened the second biggest shopping center in Asia, modernizing Bangkok with high end stores, and movie cinemas. Now, it’s former glory engulfed by flames. Bodies of protesters lie among the rubble of the red shirts camp outside Lumpini Park and Victory Monument. I recognize the place instantly. It was where I would stand several times a week, returning from shopping or work, to wait for bus 47 to take me back to Phu Khao Thong, the Temple on Golden Mountain, where Craig and I lived in it’s adjoining school. A street normally clogged with traffic and the thick air of diesel pollution, now lies deserted, thick with the air of burning rubber, death, and frenetic madness.
Photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/plasmastik/
My stomach churns with the images, and I feel a sickening despair deep within me. The world is full of everyday chaos and violence,in some places much worse, yet this disturbs me like no other. The images of a city whose streets I became a part of daily, shows a war zone so unlike the Land of Smiles that I became accustomed to. I scan the faces in the photographs, hoping not to see an old student or a friend. Through the eyes of the lens I see anguished, angry, and afraid Thai faces staring back. I don’t recognize them at all.
Mai Pen Lai
For over 10 years I have traveled in and out of Thailand, and never once witnessed animosity or violence. Though Thais experience hardship and pain like any other culture, and in some respects a lot worse, they still go about their day with a smile on their face and a strength of spirit, that enables them to rise above their problems and continue moving forward. They don’t spend their day,moaning and complaining to anyone who’ll listen and even to those who won’t. It’s not in their nature.
There were political protests when I lived in Bangkok in 2002, and yet they were peaceful and strangely celebratory. We arrived in Bangkok in 2006, just after the coup to oust Thaksin, the incident that sparked the current flame of hatred. You would never have known anything this major had happened then, as the Thais were going on about their day with their usual smiles. They just got right back to it. The world witnessed the devastation of the Tsunami in 2004, on the shores of Thailand. The Thais recovered quickly from the disaster, refusing to let it dampen their spirit. ‘Mai Pen Lai,’ no worries or never mind, their philosophy of life that previously has served them so well.
This time though, I feel, is very different and I am frightened. I am frightened for Thailand and what this means for them and how this will scar. Can they bounce back from this and return quickly to peace? I’m not so sure. On closer inspection, I feel an unsettling of my own core strength. A strength that Thailand helped build the foundation of. I am frightened by what this means for me, and I think that is partly why I feel so sick.
The Thai’s taught me over and over again this fundamental truth to life. ‘Mai pen Lai’, there is nothing to worry about. All the problems and challenges, pain and suffering can be overcome with the simple attitude that it doesn’t matter. All that matters is this moment, to be kind and happy. Things will get better, and there is so much joy that you can instead focus on. Life exists within Mai Pen Lai.
Since my love affair with Thailand began, I have strengthened this belief within my own soul and it has kept me sane. Despite the ensuing madness of my own life, I’ve been able to maintain an inner sense of peace and calm. It has held me up from crumbling. It has helped me to choose to be happy, and to look for the positive in all distressing situations.
But what now? I once drew strength from the Thai spirit to remain strong and calm and brave, when my life gives me many reasons not to. How can I get back up, when my own mentor is drowning in the fires of a people who can no longer maintain the facade? The face is no longer saved. The curtain has been drawn, to reveal a sinister ugliness that cannot be held back or concealed any more. Can we ever win this war against hatred, violence and pain? Thailand used to make me believe we could.
