Breathing Out

The past ten days have spun away in the comforts of Khon Kaen. Academically, we have been crammed with workshops in the theme “Social Research Methods.” This has included:

• A Sri Lankan reporter who told us that writing to tell the truth demands writing as clearly and simply as possible from fact to fact.

• A 70-something “radical conservative” advocate of Buddhist social change who has been charged with lese majesté more than any other person (may or may not be true) and spun out commentary on Thai history and social structure. He also provided quotable sentences like “in the West you cannot learn to be good, to be truthful, you learn how to be successful” and led us in meditations (“breathing out, it is a wonderful moment”) that seemed strangely like something my mom told me to repeat to fall asleep

• A Thai professor who was described as sounding like “an Asian Dr. Evil” as he described the “leaky buckey” (bucket) element of the livelihood model of development

For me, the most valuable workshops were the one led by a photojournalist named Nic Dunlop and an introduction to working with human rights documents. Nic Dunlop has worked in Burma, Thailand and Cambodia. After carrying around a photograph of the head executioner for a central Khmer Rouge prison for years, he ran into the disappeared man, confronted him, and helped bring him to trial. The documentation of these events is becoming a documentary (I believe), while his other long-standing project, a collection of photographs of live under the military regime of Burma, will be published as a book. Seeing his work and hearing the explanations, I learned more about these two places than I thought possible in less than an hour.

The task he gave us was to create a set of five photographs that began to tell a story. We had to pick one person and spend time with them, taking pictures of different activities from all the angles we could imagine. Patrolling the streets for subjects, I was surprised to find that I was terrified. I didn’t want to intrude on people, I didn’t want to shove my camera in their face (no zooming allowed), and I didn’t want to get in their way for twenty minutes. Once I had bumbled through my first target’s door, however, I was exhilarated. The permission I had to give myself allowed me to see people I never would have more and more naturally as I stuck around. There was so much going on and so many people in the few blocks around school—construction workers, copy shops, restaurants, an old woman sitting in her house, a snooker joint, and the hairdresser I ended up focusing on. And not surprisingly, the pictures were better. Never again will I whip out my camera nervously and snap a photo while I think my subject isn’t watching.

This woman was lovely, and I wish I could remember her name, but Thai names still haven't clicked for me. I'm still working on the tones of my roommate's.

We had to take four types of photos: establishing shots, portraits, action, and detail.

Our human rights workshop also sparked my excitement. Together, we read the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, and the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (which the United States has not signed). Reading these documents, as much as they reflect aspirations rather than assured promises, felt so important. * Their existence alone gives solidity and legitimacy to their contents, and as I read, I felt an incredible sense of citizenship and responsibility to know about things directly. After, we read Thai case studies and combed through the covenants and the Thai constitution, formulating arguments for why actions of the State had been in violation. This, too, felt important, an application for the aspirations.


Other events:

• Being paired with a Buddhist Buddy, someone who is supposed to balance me. The idea is for us to watch out for each other and push each other when we see that the other can be pushed.

• Crossing a rugged terrain of rocks, plates and candles with my Buddhist Buddy Morgan. Neither of us could speak, and the person being led was blindfolded. Despite the copious dirty looks I gave the program facilitators when my foot zinged along a plate, I truly think the world would be a better place if every relationship past acquaintance were forced to walk this gauntlet. The trust and awareness of the other person that had to develop for this to work was truly rewarding.

• Playing three on three badminton in the courts designed for dakgaw, a crazy sport where a bamboo ball must be rallied over a net without using your arms.

• Running near our dorm to find a village-like part of the city and a fresh food market—fish-flopping-fresh—closer than I realized.

• Meeting my peer tutor Mam, who has bright blue contacts, asked if I drink beer unexpectedly between Thai exercises, and made a song composed entirely of the word for "pen" which I could repeat thirty times and forget a minute later. Bak gaa. Thank you, Mam.
  

• Winning our Thai-class sponsored scavenger hunt through the market and being rewarded with a Japanese-style dinner with all of our Thai teachers. Ajaan John asked to sit with the girls because he thought we would eat less, but we proved him wrong, stuffing ourselves with an ark of animals boiled in the middle of the table, roast duck, green noodles and ice cream.

• Celebrating the end of orientation with a party at the program facilitator’s house, lying in their reed hammock, dancing to Issan music with P’Joy, who drives vans and does other tasks for the program, and hanging out with all of the people I have gotten to know over the past month.

*Article 4, ICCPR: “In time of public emergency which threatens the life of the nation and the existence of which is officially proclaimed, the States Parties to the present Covenant may take measures derogating from their obligations under the present Covenant to the extent strictly required by the exigencies of the situation, provided that such measures are not inconsistent with their other obligations under international law…”