CIEE Khon Kaen Newsletter--2008--SP--No. 3

This is our story ...

Wow Saa Saa Volume VII Issue 3 CIEE Thailand Spring 2008

We are 24 united i.n.d.i.v.i.d.u.a

.l.s

working to understand Thailand

and the world.

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Letter from the EditorsFriends, Family and Advisors,

Sawatdeeka again from Khon Kaen, Thailand! We are pleased to present to you a fi nal collection of our writings, thoughts and photos from the rest of the semester. Our student group has evolved signifi cantly throughout the duration of the semester. We have gotten to know and trust each other through shared experiences, 14-hour meeting marathons and countless conversations into the wee hours of the morning. The program of study at Khon Kaen University continues to focus on the human perspective of globalization and development. In the past few months, the group traveled southeast to Ubon Ratchathani province on the Mekong River, near the border of Laos. Our entire group stayed in the home of a social leader involved with the Assembly of the Poor to study dam projects in the Greater Mekong Subregion. Our fi nal academic unit brought us south to Bangkok where we studied social trends in Thailand. These trips are heartbreaking for some, emotional for many and inspiring to all. This past month, our group split up into eight different subgroups to work on fi nal projects. A collage of photos, statements of purpose and personal refl ections about the projects are included towards the end of newsletter. Just as before, the newsletter focuses mainly on our experiences both during and after the trips. Included are news articles published in local newspapers, journal entries, our favorite photos, polls, superlatives and memorable quotes. This issue of the “Wow Saa Saa” newsletter is dedicated to Isaan. Its culture, language, food, and hospitality has enriched our experience tremendously. Kab Khun Kaa!

Our cover reads, “We are 24 united individuals, working to understand Thailand, and the world. This is our story…” We hope you enjoy!

Sincerely,

CIEE Spring 2008 Editors

Jessica Fisher, Leslie Garrison, Kaitlin Muench & Caroline Silver

Volume VII Issue 3 CIEE Thailand Spring 2008


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after 3 months together

we were finally ready to...

paaaaaiiiiiinnnnnnttttt ttthhhee wwalls


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Just admit it: you love her.

Meet Pearl; everyone’s favorite neighborhood rascal.

Whether shes pounding on our classroom doors, writing with permanent marker on our whiteboards, running around doing cartwheels in rainbow colored leotards, or jumping into your arms when you need it the most, Pearl can always be counted on for in-stilling endless joy, love and sometimes pain (those little knuckles can hurt your shins) into our lives.

“DON’T MESS WITH ME!”

“North v. South” Journal Entry; Kaitlin

Muench; The George Washington University


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We’re entering their homes without taking off our shoes. Instead, wethrow our money at hungry hand, hoping they won’t yell when we step ontheir toes with steel tipped boots. Now they sit on dirty streets anddepend on our white skin to feed themselves.“We’re giving you jobs, we’re helping your culture,” we shout.But they can only look at us with empty eyes and shells of what theyused to be. Stripped of their lands and livelihoods by people whodesperately search for a sense of community lost when the wagon wheelsstarted West.And we train them to smile. And we train them to be who we expect themto be, disregarding anything that’s under their “traditional” garb.Their language is a joke to us, and we shove English words down theirthroats. We get angry when we come into their country and they livetheir own lives, frustrated by the fact they’re not just like us. But,we train them to smile and we train them to be who we expect them to be. And we spend thou-sands of dollars to come and watch the other spread hisass wide, their dignity dropped like their shorts on your hotel roomfloor. Those lazy, dirty fools who wear numbers instead of suits everynight for that 20 bucks you so generously give them as you wash yourhands of “their” sin. And we don’t ask names, histories, or what theygot their degree in. We don’t think of the children miles away who don’tknow their mom is calling for a whorehouse so they can eat. Instead, wecram into malls to buy those goods that are oh so cheap and we justcan’t live without, for- getting that we all live without the verything we need.

You didn’t escape the oppressive grip of the West, you just didn’tnotice when they so gently took your hand and dragged you to into thisshithole.

Journal Entry; Alicia Rice; Santa Clara University

frog


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“Dam Things” Song written by Beth Tellman; Santa Clara University


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THE DOUBLE “U” & A

Yo Yo it’s the double “U” and AWhat do you wanna say,

How you feeling,Whatcha feeling,

Share us what’s on yo mind,Anything and everything at this moment in time,

Some of us hate it,But some of us love it,

You got your emotions,Along with all the commotions,

Trying to reach a conclusion that we can’t fi nd,Talking about the downfall of mankind,

Quaking it quaker style,Pulling off 14 hours,

So let me tell you how I feel,Hear me out and feel,

Just say whatcha you wanna sayIt’s the double ‘U” and A,

Where We’re At!

Poem by John ThaoUniversity of Tulsa


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The Ghost of SurinAlexander Scott: Bates College

I suddenly sat up screaming profanities across the one-room wooden home in Surin province. Fortunately, my host grandmother, or yai, couldn’t understand a lick of it as she stared at me from her bed across the room. “Mai ben rai, yai!” (It’s alright!) I mumble before uneasily falling back asleep. I had just been dreaming or at least thought I was dreaming, that a tall, all-white person was towering above me. I awoke lying on my back to look up and to see this fi gure standing at my feet, absently staring down at my face. The fi gure itself had a face with no features, almost looking fuzzy. It slowly fell towards me, passing through the mosquito net. Just as it landed directly on top of me, I actually awoke from the dream more violently than ever before in my life screaming, kicking, and punching. Thailand is said to be chocked full of spirits. Many homes, businesses, and other places of gathering have spirit houses that look like two foot square temples on a post. These serve as a method of paying respects to the spirits that guard and inhabit the premises. Many families have these spirits. Not necessarily ancestors, my understanding is they are simply a spirit that is attached to the family or building. Many people are able to share personal encounters. Srijan and I were paired in a home stay for a few days while the CIEE group studied organic agriculture in Surin, a southern province of Isaan that borders Cambodia. On the farm the day following the encounter, I was still not a true believer in spirits. Ajaan Dee came by that afternoon to help translate between yai, Sri and I to clear up any questions our limited Thai language skills had trouble with. Now, yai had been making fun of

me in the morning and so I felt I needed to clear some things up. She would walk about waving her arms and imitating my brief moment of ‘freak-out’ from the night before. However, now she apologized for not paying respects to the spirit house. I had not noticed it before, but it was standing just inside the gate in the corner of the dirt yard around the house. Apparently, yai had never had a

farang, or white foreigner, stay in her house before. She thought perhaps the spirit wanted to check me out because I was such a novelty. I think the spirit could have been a bit more cordial about it. I decided to keep my distance from the spirit house. Wouldn’t want to rile’em up any more than necessary. We spent the evening burning the rice fi eld adjacent to the house. In the middle of the night, I awoke to the most blood-curdling scream I have ever heard. It lasted no more than a second and came from just outside the house. No comment. All I will say is no one else heard it. Srijan peacefully slept away

each and every night there. Now at this point it seems I am a pretty strong believer in spirits. Well, it was the day that we left that got me good. Just before leaving, I decided the time was right to check out where yai had burnt some incense on the spirit house and said a few prayers. I gazed in only to see a small, framed picture of an all- white, featureless person. That did it for me. Have you ever seen a ghost? Have you heard of any friends swearing they saw one? Heard one? Felt one? They say you can feel cold around a ghost. Some Thais claim they can smell them, an odor like a dead animal. The ability to detect one can run in the family, it does not come to all. They say you feel like you are dreaming when you see a spirit. Saying it was only a dream starts to wear thin after a couple dozen stories.


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High School Superlatives

Best Smile: Rachel Wobeter; Luther College

Most Likely to Become A P’Fac: Dylan Cook; University of Southern Illinois

Best Sense of Humor: Kaitlin Muench; The George Washington University


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Most likely to Become A Thai Farmer: Caroline Silver; Barnard College

Most Likely to Get Up During Lecture: Alex Halpern; Indiana University

Most Likely to Work for the World Bank: Kris Kane; Bates College


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Most Likely to Date: Peter Ringold and Kira Harvey; Occidental College, Beloit University

Most Likely to Call an Emergency WWA with Friends Back Home: Jessica Fisher; Drake University

Most Dependable: Sadie Beauregard; Occidental College

Photos by Corinne Kisner;Georgetown University


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SHHHHHHHH!! Srijan’s Sleeping...


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I was nervous before we went to dinner. I didn’t know quite what to expect as a farang man on a date with a Thai wom-an. I was worried about what people would think. I thought that Boi would be shy and I was worried about our conversations being awkward. I realized I was thinking too much. In America, dating is usually really stress-ful, especially when you don’t know the other person. There’s so many expectations and worries that it is easy to forget to have fun. Fortunately, this date was different than any date I’ve ever been on. Boi was relaxed. She didn’t share my anxiety, and she was very outgoing. I quickly forgot about all the pretense of American dating. We told stories. We talked about traveling, books, and movies. We laughed. It seemed so smooth and natural. In the middle of din-ner we switched plates so we could try each other’s food, like we had known each other forever. I’m not sure what made us so com-fortable, but I feel like that is the Thai style of dating. It was refreshing to be a on a date that didn’t have the pressure that I normally associate with dates.

I admit I was anxious about going on my blind date. Not only are blind dates more stressful in general because you do not know much about the other person, but the fact that it was a Thai blind date made me even more nervous. In America, a lot of societal pres-sure is associated with the word “date.” American dates are very structured: dinner followed by dessert or coffee and, if all goes well, perhaps a kiss or at least an exchange of phone numbers to end the evening. In the States, the word “date” has so much stigma attached that American youth often avoid labeling a night out as a date to escape all its underlying connotations. The date went really well; it was relaxed, fun and much less stressful than American dates. Thai dates seem to follow the same structure as American dates, e.g. dinner followed by coffee, but have a com-pletely different vibe. I felt more like I was hanging out with Oon to get to know him as a friend, not a possible boyfriend. The date was quite different from any I’d had before. At the end of the date, Oon just waved goodbye to me. It seemed very informal, especially compared to the antici-pation associated with the end of most dates at home. But, we both had so much fun we decided to hang out again.

Thai Blind Dating: CIEE Style

Kaitlin Says: Dylan Says:

Kaitlin Muench; The George Washington University

Dylan Cook; University of Southern Illinois


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Mother River and the Concrete StatueJessica Fisher; Drake University

Before the grasses, and the trees, and before the grasshoppers, and the dragonfl ies, and before the cows and the birds, and before people took their fi rst steps, Mother River fl owed through the land. She wound around rocks, and snuck into cracks in the ground. In her bed, Mother River has stayed for millions of years. The water that creates Mother River is calmness, coolness, and energy. The fi sh swim in Mother River’s calmness. The grasses soak up Mother River’s coolness. And the animals and people drink Mother River’s energy. Long ago, the village people asked Mother River if they could eat her fi sh, and use her calming waters to drink and grow rice. Wanting to provide for everyone, Mother River happily agreed. The village people and Mother River lived together in peace.

One day, men in black suits came to Mother River to speak to the village people.“This river will bring all the people in the country happiness,” they explained, “We will build a Giant Power Creating Machine!”Mother River listened to their conversation in confusion. She did not know what a Giant Power Creating Machine was. .A few days later, the men in black suits returned, and brought many more men. The men worked for months and months on their Machine. When they were fi nished, they left only a Concrete Statue on Mother River’s belly. This is the Giant Power Creating Machine? Mother River thought.

Mother River swelled from the pressure that the statue forced on her middle. Tears from

the pain spilled onto the village people’s fi elds. The fi sh that the village people used to eat could not swim past the Concrete Statue’s huge mouth.

When the villagers saw that Mother River was in pain and that the fi sh could not swim, and the rice could not grow, they begged the men in black suits to take the Concrete Statue away. But the men in black suits insisted that the Giant Power Creating Machine would bring too much happiness and so they refused to remove it.

One night Grandfather Wind brought news from all over the world of more Concrete Statues being built. From deep beneath her bed, Mother River felt the pain of all her brothers and sisters. She cried to Grandfather Wind, asking him to spread her story to all who would listen.

Today, Mother River waits for the Concrete Statue to be removed from her belly. If you listen carefully, you can hear Grandfather Wind whispering her story and asking for your help.


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I am not a social activist, but I am a liberal…a neo-liberal, that is. When I speak of freedom, I mean it in terms of trade. I am not inhuman, but I am willing to sacrifi ce for the greater good. I am the enemy. I am the Luther to your Kent, the Napier to your Wayne, and the Osbourne to your parker. But before writing me off, know that the hero is defi ned by his villain. Without me and my kind, you would be activists without an activity. Face it; your joke just isn’t that funny without me as a punch line. Besides, I’ve got my own kind of wit; take this terrifying thought, we are similar you and I. Although our collective end has dra-matically different means, we are both doing what we believe to be best for humanity. My solemn vows include ending injustice, achieving the Millennium development goals, and most of all, ramping up peace worldwide. Only, my method-ology is trade. My language is GDP, DDA, FDI. ISI, WDI and most of all, USD. My barriers are American Neo-Colonialism, European selfi shness, global protectionism and trade distorting mecha-nisms. I venerate Smith, Ricardo, and the invisible hand that provides us food, clothing and 60” fl at screens. My system may not be perfect, but neither is yours. I refrain from waxing philosophical about things like individuals and their rights; instead, I implement action, constantly pursuing that ever elusive beast named progress. Instead of calling for widespread social revolution, I dedicated my 9-5 making fair trade free. Sure, things go wrong, it’s a process, trial and error, construction and destruction, life and death. If you’re going to make an omelet, well shit, sometimes you’ve just got to collapse a few developing economies. It’s just like I said, I am the enemy.

You’d think I’m the victim of progressMy yoke, the farmer’s yoke, is burdened with the weight of split familyI heave hunger and debt on one shoulderWhile balancing the urbanization of his pittance-paid daughter on the otherThe war you wage with the grenades of individu-alism that you use to terrorize my community with your sword of trade and neoliberalismJeweled at the hilt by diamonds and stone, dug with the blood of my hands where my cassava fi eld used to beAnd you ring the gong of GDP GDPCONSUME CONSUME CONSUMEAnd the earth sounds her rape whistleYou don’t hear it, but I doOur mother is wailing a warning while you march through the forest, village, river, hospital, school, farmland, a puebloPlowing on with your IMF shield, and your hel-met slogan profi tAs you thin the ice of our sustenance, it is I who will fall through fi rstBut my knees will not buckle under my yokeI am a soldier, and I fi ght to fi ghtAnd my sword is double-edgedOrganic agriculture and popular education on the otherSmall is beautiful and so I tradeQuantity for qualityProduct for peopleConsumerism for communityFinance for familyYour cement will crumble with each economic earthquakeBut I have my investment in the bank of humanityMy progress is measured not in numbers but in smiles

The Great Debate

VS.Confessions of a Recovering Economist

Kris Kane; Bates CollegeManifesto of a Progressing HumanistElizabeth Tellman; Santa Clara University


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I am going to the village in Ubon Ratchatani to stay with Paw Tonjaloo, an active chao baan on the issue of the Pak Mun dam as well as an avid self-suffi cient farmer who lives in the middle of the woods with no electricity or running water... Once P’Joy had left for another moo baan, I sat down with meh and all the little ones to get acquainted with my new comrades. After a little while, I chose to bai teow with the kids. Within fi ve minutes we arrive at a huge cave-like structure made of boulders, black as night, lying on the ground like hunks of spent charcoal discarded from Mt Olympus. The littlest boy hasn’t stopped screaming and running around vying for my attention, doubtless a symptom of being the youngest child of four. The children invited me down into the deepest crevice of the cave into which at fi rst I didn’t think I had the slightest chance in fi tting. Until they insisted, “P, bai dai”, “You can”. After much effort I was now shoved between a rock and a hard place… incidentally another rock, with my little monkey friends. We saw a gecko scurry across the rock’s surface and disappear into the darkness. The youngest girl reaches out to the rock and pulls down a small round white ball that had been carefully affi xed to the belly of the rock along with two others. Confused, I asked, “ni, arai ka?”, “what is that?” She smiles coyly and goes, “Cai gecko, cai gecko”. That’s when I realized these were gecko eggs carefully stashed away from such assaults by a careful parent. I was not prepared for what happened next. I expected her to place the egg in a niche somewhere among the stones but instead her fi ngertips turned white with pressure and she crushed the tiny egg with a sudden crack! “Doo doo”, “look look” she said and when I looked over, there between her fi ngers, lay a tiny, limp gecko fetus lubricated with the liquids of development. The tiny creature certainly resembled a tiny tinyversion of the geckos you see scurrying around at gravity-defyingangles but this one still had its external gills, white and root-like protruding from the sides of its head. I was astonished at this frivolous abortion but apparently my concern was not apparent nor was it shared because they proceeded to dislodge and crush the remaining two eggs as well. “Well, so much for that” I thought, let’s hope there are plenty of eggs to go around, which I assume there are given those things are ubiquitous both by eye and ear. My morbid thoughts were interrupted by “glup, glup, bai glup”, “let’s go back”. We emerged from our temporary den back into the scorching desert and headed back to the house. All the way home I was bombarded with questions “P… this” and P...that” few of which I understood, but with some patience, we could work up some acceptable responses. Upon returning home I soon found myself transformed into a hunter-gatherer. We had a basket of lizards or “ga pomb” and were digging for plants and crabs in the fallow rice fi elds. Meh was adorned in her usual patoong and sun hat with a straw basket slung over her shoulder in which she was stashing her booty. For some reason, it dawned on me at that moment, more so then it ever has before, that so many people on this planet truly do depend on the forest and surrounding environment for food and recreation. To compromise the quality of these resources is to compromise the lives of millions... I offered meh my fi ndings: a paltry four vegetables to add to her full basket of plump goodies. She smiled and accepted them, probably laughing to herself about the silly farang gathering food in the wild yet still programmed with the mere skills of supermarket profi ciency. She was right.

“Village Adventures” Excerpts from a Journal Entry; Leslie Garrison; University of Michigan

“As conscious consumers, we recognize that our society depends on agriculture for life. In a globalized community, we share the responsibility of sustain-ability. There is a disconnect in agriculture which must be rem-edied. The separation between food and nature is magnified by the unequal power distribution between farmers, governments, corporations, and consumers. Our vision for positive change requires awareness and networking. We, as students, are enablers, energizers, connectors, and educators. We have the resources of time, technology, and access to information. We

seek to restabilize the balance of power within

the food industry.”Surin Organic Agriculture Final Project Leila Alciere; Brandeis University Rachel Wobeter; Luther College


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FINAL PROJECTS

ANALYSIS/REPORT: Globalization, Dams, Alternatives, Social Costs, Pak Mun Dam, Civic Participation, Development

Leslie Garrison; University of MichiganMax Holland; George Washington UniversityAlex Halpern; Indiana University

May 7, 2008: Consumer Awareness Forum on Organic Produce

Yasotorn Organic Agriculture Final Project Sadie Beauregard; Occidental College Elizabeth Tellman; Santa Clara University Anna Yaloris; Bates College

Organic Farmer in YasotornPhoto by Sadie Beauregard; Occidental College

Organic Farmer in YasotornPhoto by Sadie Beauregard; Occidental College


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“ Development projects are not self-contained; they have repercussions which are felt in far off communities, and even across national boundaries.

Our goal is to facilitate the formation of a transparent world where development incorporates the

view of the local people.”

GMS Research NGO Final ProjectMaureen Ditol, Occidental College; Kristopher Kane, Bates College; Kaitlin Muench, The George Washington University; Srijan Munier, Pace University; Cathleen Parisian, Macalester College and Peter Ringold, Occidental College

Village Forum; May 4, 2008 Udon ThaniPhoto by Maureen Ditol; Occidental College

Visit http://engagetheworld.wik.is/Issues/Greater_Mekong_Subregion

“Education is a process of challenging individuals to understand and evaluate themselves, and their role in society. Our schools and communities should be the teachers. We aim to support the teachers of Khon Kaen in their endeavors to promote good citizenship. Together we can develop a groundwork for the future of

Isaan and the world.” Alternative Education Final Project

Dylan Cook; University of Southern Illinois Jessica Fisher; Drake University Kira Harvey; Beloit University John Thao; University of Tulsa


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David Streckfuss • Resident Director • [email protected] Adisak Kaewrakmuk • Logistics and Field Study Coordinator • [email protected] • (66)(81)974-0290 Arunee Chupkhunthod • Acting Administrative Director • [email protected] • (66)(81)965-3400 Jintana Rattanakhemakorn • Language Coordinator • [email protected] • (66)(81)662-3324 John Mark Belardo • Offi ce Manager • [email protected]

CIEE Th ailand P.O. Box 91 Khon Kaen University Khon Kaen 40002 (043) 342913 calling from the US: (66) (43) 342913

cieeCouncil on International Educational Exchange

Photo by Leslie Garrison; University of Michigan

CIEE Khon Kaen Newsletter--2008--SP--No. 3

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