Grains and Granuals.

For whom the bell  does not toll.

        This silent cast metal bell used be the school summoner. It is severely neglected, though once a proud and powerful force. Students and teachers need a sound marker to assemble, change classes, go to lunch or just ignore.

         The bell replacement is a jarring couple of bars of "Home Sweet Home" culturally foreign and cacophonous; belted out from an impaired electronic keyboard.

Little school; big school.

          We visited a small primary school threatened with closure because of declining numbers of students. They have their first foreign teacher in Georgie from Bolton near Manchester who has won their hearts and minds. Teachers ply her with food, children bring flowers to her and make lovely little cards expressing deep love. There is a palpable spirit of community at the school.

Georgie and class.

Admin, 6th class, teachers' lunch room, TV Room.

          This is the more remarkable as 80% of the students have one  parent or are cared for by grandparents, aunts or uncles. Adults often go overseas to bring back hard earned cash and find their relationships are in tatters.
           One building has already been abandoned. One room functions as staff room, classroom for year 6 and "canteen". A tired full size football pitch suggests former days. Soon these comfortable and co-operative students will be bussed to a larger distant school where as minnows they will flounder. Sad to see such rich social capital being dissipated.

Widow Ghost.

          Outside my room the Widow Ghost bush nightly exudes an exotic heavy perfume like Frangipani.  The folklore is that if a man sleeps with a sprig of this bush the Widow Ghost will spirit him to his death during the night. It did not work for this iconoclast. But I imagine the potent services of the Widow Ghost have been used to remove or explain the removal of the odd villager.  "Well, Officer, I just put this sprig near his pillow to help him sleep, and he was gone in the morning".

Contemporary Courtesies.

       Having found myself abandoned at the dinner table by young volunteers welded to their smart phones, as yet not bound by the courteous conventions for tables and phones I have suggested the practice be called "textabating".

New Arrival.

       A thai English teacher with whom I work has just given birth to a son. HIs name is iPhone. Obviously the apple of his mother's eye.

Fire!

         "Our house will burn down" usually gets action. Patricia in the house next door was justifiably concerned when a farmer burned a heap of dry rubbish and coconut leaves so that the flames ran up the coconut tree  and set the crown of it alight. Coconuts and burning bits showered the base of the tree and beyond. 

          With a trickle from a blue plastic hose and a rake I grabbed from the gormless woman pyrometrical farmer we got it under control, while dodging intermittent showers of  great balls of fire.

          Jack the boss here asked the farmer about the incident. "I don't know why she did it". He remarked of the incident. End of episode.

Nasal Work.

       Alex a Spanish, English teacher pointed out  large number of "nose jobs" which are popular among local women. Small noses are the mark of  Isan people. It is so sad to see them wanting to look so different they they will have plastic surgery to enlarge what they recieved at birth. 

       On the other hand had my Dwyer relatives been on the scene they could have made considerable donations of tissue to these ladies.

Disability Run.

Discarded Wheel Chair

Mother with kidney failure and disabled daughter.

Kitchen

Taking Daughter for a walk.

          We visited several families caring for their disabled children on Constitution Day December 10th. Managing these people in a developed country like Australia  is a challenge. The challenges here are similar and the questions the same; "Who will look after my child when I am gone?" 

          But the vast difference is in the resources available and affordable. We delivered disposable nappies, rice, packaged milk and dried fish in differing quantities for different family needs. To those of you who have supported me financially, I thank you for the little I was able to pass on. 

           On our way through the small villages we came across women women splitting reed like plants to make strands of weft for floor mats. Others wove straw into bands for sewing into hats. They talked, children talked to them and played, some sat around in hammocks. They sold us a couple of mats for about six dollars or less.

Community work.

           At a brief glimpse they seemed more contented and aware of who they are and what they do than many of the people I see in Oz. These villages are puddles of equanimity though of course there is no nirvana. They are also puddles of intrigue, magic, teenage marriage and abandoned children.

          We also saw fisher folk with beautifully formed nets. They cherished each little fish collected.

Getting Dinner.

          Nearby there was a charcoal oven ready for firing. These things exist around the world, but each region has its own design flavour.

          Thai has some words which are common and central to their everyday life. Truism, yes. But these words do not have the same meaning in English. Fuck Thong is a pumpkin. A bean filled loofah plant is Fuck Keow (pronounced a bit like "You"). No offence intended.

Fuck Keow 

Next time medical services at the local hospital.
Cheers,
m