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Update: She's Five
... and Tabea Johnson is Fiftymumble ...
1/10/2005
I'm Still Here
I promised at the start that I would only post when there were things worth posting, and truth to tell it has mainly been more of the same for the last few weeks. But I am still here, both metaphorically and literally.
We have a new court date of November 11. However, the month of October is a school holiday for Neung. Because Panya and Sanam are both working, it is difficult for them to look after Neung during the holidays ... and so we have based here for as much of the time as we can. This runs contrary to our aim of not being too heavily in her life before the court hearing, but there really wasn't much to be done about that.
We spent a week at a different hotel in Phuket (just for a change), notable for two facts (1) it had a huge waterslide that Neung loved (she has dangerously little fear!); and (2) our room was literally about a third of a kilometer from the main part of the hotel. Neung kept asking to be carried, and so I spent much of the week transporting her on my shoulders. It turns out that it is not a good idea to walk two kilometers a day with 17 kilograms on one's shoulders. I ended up with a badly trapped nerve in my neck, resulting in very nasty trapezoid pain and two numb fingers.
We briefly returned to Singapore in order to complete our Permanent Residency applications. When we moved to Singapore last year we thought we were just going to stay for two years, but obviously things have changed. We need to stay near Thailand so that we can keep bring Neung to see her grandparents, and so it looks like Singapore is home for the foreseeable future. I don't mean to sound like a broken record, but I am amazed on a daily basis by how our lives were changed utterly by what still seems to have been a tiny, random decision to go to Thailand after the tsunami.
On October 15, we moved back up to Khao Lak. The Le Meridien Hotel, which was probably the best hotel in Khao Lak, and also one of those hardest hit by the tsunami, was re-opening. From our point of view, this is currently a great deal. It is a beautiful hotel; it is only fifteen minutes from Ban Nam Kem, making it possible for us to see Sanam and Panya frequently; and yet it is (at the moment) much cheaper than the hotels we were frequenting in Phuket. It is a bit more expensive than the Merlin, but although I liked many things about that hotel -- particularly the people -- the Le Meridien is much much better. Excellent food, wonderful people, and broadband internet too!
It was also fun to be in the vanguard here. There are of course still very few guests, but the hotel put on several events for the opening, including a spectacular party. It is heartening and exciting as well -- staying here, it really begins to feel possible that the tourists will come back to Khao Lak soon. And of course, Neung has rapidly charmed everyone who works here. What is more, because this hotel is close to the Sofitel, it turns out that several people who now work here used to work at the Sofitel, and some remember Somsri. We are going to interview them so that, when she is older, Neung will be able to hear some first-hand memories and stories of her mother. I will report on those later.
27/10/2005
Making Merit
Driving from Phuket to Khao Lak one day about six weeks ago, I noticed huge billboards on the side of the road. They consisted of a lot of Thai text, together with some photographs which I guessed had to be of Nongkran Petchpoonsap. I mentioned Khun Eiang, as she was nicknamed, in one of my posts in August: she was the goalkeeper for the Thailand women's national soccer team, and we recently learned that she too worked and died at the Sofitel. At least two people here at Le Meridien were colleagues of hers and remember her fondly. She and Somsri probably knew each other, as well.
Intrigued, we photographed the billboards and asked someone to translate them for us. It turned out that a local temple was holding a ceremony for Khun Eiang, in order to raise money to build a children's play area (or something of that sort; I'm not exactly sure) in her honor.
Now, Jill and I have long been interested in women's soccer. We have coached many girls' and women's teams, and we even took a trip to Sweden back in 1995 to watch the women's world cup, back before most of the world was aware that such a thing existed. We were watching Mia Hamm, Kristine Lilly, Briana Scurry and the rest long before their names found their way on to replica shirts and their faces on to American girls' bedroom walls. And so, last Sunday, we took Neung down to the temple to "tham boon" (make merit) for Khun Eiang.
Making merit is the term for the giving of donations (money or food) to monks. This site explains the practice as follows:
"[Merit refers to] doing good deeds or actions in an unselfish way for mental development. Some ways of making merit have been institutionalized in Thailand and for lay people in Thailand making merit is more common as a religious activity than meditating or studying dharma. People in Thailand make merit mostly by giving food to monks and making donations to temples.
Despite its name in English, merit isn't a supernatural credit system (although some Thais see it that way). Instead, making merit refers to doing deeds unselfishly, without expecting anything in return. They're therefore done skillfully, and this raises the mental and spiritual level of the person doing them. It's believed that even if you don't follow the complete path to enlightenment these actions will help you have happiness in this lifetime and also in future livetimes."
Whatever. We parked at the side of the road, and wandered up towards the temple. The main hall was full -- Khun Eiang was something of a local celebrity -- and people were also seated all around the outside of the hall. Buses had brought football teams (I don't know which ones), and the atmosphere was serious but not sombre; it was clear that the ceremony was more about celebrating Khun Eiang's life than it was about mourning her death. There were ice cream sellers and snack vendors, and music. At least one song has apparently been written about her, and to judge by the applause that greeted its singer, she is somewhat famous as well.
I think we were the only farang in the place. Unsure of what to do, we approached the main hall, and before we quite knew what was happening we were beckoned inside. A row of monks were seated at one end, beneath the Buddha statue, and the rest of the hall was crammed with people. Except for the middle, that is: it was a miniature forest of money. When you make merit, you attach your donation to little money trees. The temple hall was full of them. It was an amazing sight.
All the guidebooks tell you how friendly Thailand is, and all the guidebooks are right. People were evidently curious as to who we were, but our intrusion was greeted with nothing but smiles. Within seconds we were in whispered conversation with Khun Bam (another survivor of the Sofitel) and Khun Eiang's sister, explaining that we were there because Neung's mother had died at the Sofitel and because Neung likes to play football. There was praying and chanting, during which we did our best to adopt the appropriate poses. Fortunately Neung impressed the old Thai women nearby by making merit and by knowing all the prayers.
One of the promises that we have made to Sanam and Panya is that we will continue to educate Neung in Buddhism. This is going to be a challenge, as neither of us know anything about it. (Our current division of labor is that Jill is in charge of Buddhism and I am in charge of ensuring that Neung continues to learn Thai.) One good thing for us is that the basic precepts of Buddhism, at least as we understand them, are not too alien to our own lack of religious belief. In any case, we were now able to tell Sanam that we had taken Neung to the temple for tham boon!
There is something particularly heart-wrenching about the death of such a gifted young athlete, still approaching her prime. When such random and cruel death strikes, we all grab the small consolations that we can. A couple of days ago we stood on the beach in front of the Sofitel with yet another of her former colleagues, a woman named Khun A, who told us that, on the morning of the tsunami, Khun Eiang was playing beach soccer in front of the hotel.
So this, at least, we know to be true: Khun Eiang died playing the game she loved, and as the water fled the land before the tsunami struck, her football field stretched to the horizon.
31/10/2005
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