Comings and Goings.

     Arriving in Issan at Issan Survivor, my NGO base was quite natural. The room I had imagined so many times had not changed, except for the removal of a wardrobe "to make more space". The family gave me an Issan  welcome; undemonstrative, but genuine. Even before I unpacked there was a Skype call from old mate Gregan McMahon, and the line was as clear as a glass of spring water.
    On arrival my boss Jack Panasrisi met me in Non Khai bus station whence we went looking for a bicycle for me. I bought a red one, I hear they are the best. The price was about $70 more than the Aldi model I considered bringing,but a more reliable unit I think. 
    Then a siestal rest was sweet balm after the eleven hours on the bus labelled VIP. "O sleep it is a gentle thing beloved from pole to pole" and as well beloved by this non Pole.
     Wednesday is afternoon market day in Phornpissai, the local bigger town. Jack cranked up his resurrected TukTuk and took his wife Patricia, daughter Luna (14 months) and me to the market.   Crossing the main road is challenging as the sputtering vehicle needs to transcend the camber diagonally and needs a wide gap in the traffic to do so. But once that obstacle is crossed the back lanes may be rough but reassuringly flat.
     The market exudes wares, cosmetics, groceries, flesh and fish, insects, beetles and frogs, gear almost too terrible to look at lest the digestive juices go on permanent strike, and popcorn, shoes, clothes and bling. Back in Oz I could recount the affronting images with a survivor's pride, but I did find it all confronting even though I have seen it all before. Watching all kinds of flesh and fish laid out and protected from flies, well some of them,  by stallholders waving sticks with plastic bags attached, is not the same as the hermetic protection of tucker in a supermarket refrigerator. And it helps to sever any data gathered by the imagination when looking at food on the table. So...
     All this is small matter compared with conversations with my sister Julie and her four children who have tenderly nursed their father and let him die at home last Tuesday. That morning I spoke to them by Skype and said I would go to the temple and offer incense, according to our Zen practice, for my brother in law Robert. While I was in the temple he died peacefully with his children and Julie. The world felt very small and the connections very big.
     Robert's funeral will be today Monday. HIs four children are the embodiment of his and Julie's loving encouragement for each of them to be who they are and take life as it is.
My monk mate Johnny, and his brother monks will have a little ceremony for Robert in Laos as I will here in Issan.

Mekong Fisherman P.M.