Just So You Know

Earlier this week my university’s international studies coordinator emailed the people on my internship program. Many had failed to turn in their mandatory reports, including the other USC intern at my organization. My coordinator was annoyed; he made this abundantly clear in the email.

He also seemed to think that some interns were not taking enough cultural risks. The other intern was rather peeved that the email was so direct. But, it made me examine my own behavior.

Instead of simply parting as I could anywhere else, I pride myself on getting to know where I travel.  My coordinator urged students to lose themselves in a neighborhood and discover as its streets unfold. I did that two weekends ago.

Actually, I got a bit more lost than I’d have liked. I stupidly assumed that I could walk from Bangkok’s Silom district to the Grand Palace. I got hopelessly lost. However, along the way I saw discovered a new side of Bangkok. On winding streets near the river I meandered past old wooden households in front of open canals. This was the essence of the city before the development of the late 20^th century. Five hours later, I arrived at the royal residence too tired to see the Emerald Buddha temple. But that was ok. I’d already seen many local temples. My USC counterparts had not.

My coordinator also opined that you have not truly seen a country until you’ve been invited to a native’s home. Incidentally, I was. After teaching English at Huay Sala School, the English teacher took us to dinner. He told us that he would be happy to have us as guests in his home amid the rice paddies. He also gave us his contact information. Unfortunately, I did not have time to follow up.

Still, I wondered if I’d gotten out of my comfort zone. I only saw so much on my walk because I was suspicious of taking a taxi. This isn’t because I’ve heard horrible stories about Bangkok cabbies. Eastern European drivers would rip a foreigner off. I’ve stayed at friends’ apartments in the region as well.

I haven’t taken a hired motorbike, eaten street food, or made much of an effort to learn the language. The last is odd. I usually pick up languages quickly. Thai is one of the harder tongues I’ve encountered. But, I can’t help but wonder if there’s something else at work. I’ve been to over 40 countries. Maybe, I’m starting to view myself like the children at some schools my organization sponsors view me:

‘Here one day; gone the next. Why is it worth the effort’?

 That doesn’t mean I’ll stop traveling. It’s good to get a wakeup call every once in a while. My coordinator’s email may have annoyed some others. For me it was a reminder: Never be too set in your ways. Never become too jaded.  

Up-Country

I was happy to return to Ban Huay Sala School.  We were with the 17-year-old son of a Korean donor, who wanted to show the students how to make kimchi and take pictures. Kuhn San Hun, the school's  head English, teacher told us that he wanted us to give an encore English lesson. I agreed, but knew it might be hard.

I’d asked to go up country again to observe teacher trainings. No such trainings materialized as my departure date arrived. As we set up our lesson plans the next day, my supervisor announced that I was to attend a training at another school.  

 As I said goodbye to the students, they seemed happy that the other interns would remain, but were disappointed at my departure. Surprisingly, so was I. I’d only spent a few days teaching here. It was the closest I’d come to making an impact.

 I boarded the van, watched the fields roll by and  thought about letting the students know they could come visit me when they got a bit older. Then I thought better of it. When I was around 14 I went skiing in British Columbia, and took tropical vacations in the BVI.  It occurred to me that most of them would probably never leave Thailand. Its  improbable that people from such different cultural, linguistic and socio-economic backgrounds could make any kind of connection. I’d like to think we did.

I only stayed at the teacher training about 45 minutes. Obviously, the training was in Thai; no one was sent with me to translate.

 The local English instructor  gave me and a visiting American teacher a ride back.  He told us that our visits to schools do work in that they really make the children want to learn English. The visiting teacher said she’d been told to teach English by my organization, as the local teacher watched best practices. The only problem that she happened to be a literature teacher!  “I don’t know what they’re thinking” she said.  “Frankly, I think it’s insulting to the teachers and the children.”

 It’s better than nothing. Although both English teachers I saw on this trip speak well, others can’t even hold a basic conversation. The question still remains: Why wern't we sent to a school were the faculty’s English level is a problem?

I did teach English the next day. The students were happy to see me. But, they seemed a bit jaded. In the month after my organization’s program started they’d seen a virtual parade of westerners tour their school. In older projects, the students practically ignore our continued visits.

 Later that day, a younger intern was trying to figure out what benefit learning photography could be to the villagers. I had to break the news to him. “He’s the son of the village’s sponsors” I informed him. “The benefit is his family’s continued sponsorship”.

 We attended a tree planting the next day. Villagers receive 40 baht (about 60  U.S. cents) per tree toward capital in their micro-credit bank. We bounced over dirt paths through the rice paddies until we finally arrived at the site. I’d expected the villagers to regard our presence as interference. They couldn’t have been more welcoming.  At one point, an old woman came over and cut open my tree’s plastic root lining. “She is 80 years old” a translator told me. In an odd way she reminded me of my grandmother, who taught me to garden as a child. We worked as a team until lunch.

The villagers served us on reed mats under older trees. The Koreans demanded the villagers bring their lunch to where we left our van. But, they are the ones providing the 40 baht per tree.  We eventually convinced them to walk to where we had stopped planting.

This was likely my last trip to Buriram. I am going to miss it. The trip encompassed the best of what my organization does for rural villagers. But is it  enough? Is it counterproductive?  Or is it effective NGO work?

You decide.