Week 13

A fair amount of my time here in Bangkok has been spent reading. As a whole, the five of us were required to bring along six books to read and discuss while here. I've spent a lot of the last week reading the remaining two: Sexually Exploited Children and Sex Slaves. As I found out four months ago in Dallas, these are awkward titles to have on your office desk if you aren't a social worker or something close.

Sex Slaves, at one point, refers to Bangkok as "the world's brothel." When people ask me what I think of Bangkok, I usually say something about the food, mostly because "the world's brothel" is often what first comes to mind. I recognize that this thought is unfair to Thai people in general and citizens of Bangkok in particular, but for half a week every week, it's what I see of the city.

Women are trafficked here from all over the continent, but Sex Slaves asserts that the majority are from Burma and North Thailand. These women arrive under varying levels of coercion, from outright, drugged kidnapping to a conscious choice, albeit made under the duress of poverty and a familial culture that emphasizes concrete, financial indebtedness to one's parents. These are the girls lining the street that I walk down three times a week at night.

In the daytime, Bangkok offers me the chance to tour scores of intricately constructed wats--temples--all dedicated to a seemingly innocuous, peaceful dogma that fatalistically assigns a prostitute her lot in life with no hope to save.

What do I think of Bangkok? The food is excellent.

As usual this week, we had outreach on Monday and Wednesday. This week we prepared food packets beforehand--two chicken sticks, an orange, and bread. Nearly all the faces this past week were familiar, so our awkward Thai conversations were longer and more awkward, with lots of pauses, but with much grace. When someone we know allows us to sit with them, they are always happy to forgive our linguistic shortcomings.

The police were out in force both nights, apparently running off child beggars after "confiscting" their earnings and taking their shoe-shining kits. This meant that many of our friends were gone or hiding by the time we made it to Nana.

This week, Jeff and I participated in our first, and unfortunately second-to-last, week of partner ship with the MST--Men and the Sex Trade--project. The project seeks to humanize the men who visit Nana plaza and Soi Cowboy as broken sinners in need of grace as opposed to much more one-dimensional labels like "pervert."

Next week, we will actually approach men for discussion. This last week, we joined MST on a very eye-opening prayer walk through Nana plaza. I had seen the entrance to the plaza every week during outreach, but was unaware of the structure within. I found it disturbingly procedural. I needn't go into details here--you can always ask me--but the place is every bit as orderly as I imagine any Old Testament cult's fertility temples would be. The men there are not just out-of-control tourists on a bender, they are pious adherents of a religion.

At home, I've taken up yoga with Bethany leading the way. It was my idea, which should stricke anyone who knows me as odd. Thankfully, Bethany never lets me escape my committment. I'm getting sore in places I didn't know existed.

As I post this, there's only one week of English teaching left at Klong Thoei. I think I'll miss those kids, even the really loud ones.

Week 12 - The One About the Massage

Fact: the average meal here is around 90 cents, the sort of meal you would easily pay $9.00 for at Royal Thai on Greenville.

Outreach twice again this week. We spent a little time visiting with people we already knew, handing out Thai workbooks and pencils to the little ones. I am lost in these relationships, those which can seemingly go no further than "How are you." If they happen to say they are not well, and I ask why, I will not understand what they say after that. At times like these, I have to believe the eternal Logos is also preached in mystery, apart from the spoken gospel, that Christ in me is enough and that the Spirit will shout grace and mercy in a way that surpasses me.

An aside on the subject of mystery: does anyone think there's a link between Eastern Orthodox and the Southern USA pentecostal tradition? I've been obsessed with this question lately.

We discussed Nouwen's Compassion on Thursday. Nouwen writes in riddles, but there were a couple of edifying concepts in the essay. Mainly, that of presence. Nouwen aims in the beginning to dismiss the idea of compassion as a condescending pity, a common misconception. Compassion, for Nouwen, and I think accurately, is sharing the suffering of your neighbor. The practical manifestation of this becomes a question with in impossible number of answers, but Nouwen happens to mention sharing awkwardness as one of them. Sitting with a beggar who is likely Cambodian and knows little Thai, when you yourself already know little Thai, is assuredly one of the most awkward things I have done. Nouwen's exhortation is not to run from that awkwardness, not to exist in frantic impatience that desires only to run away from the moment, but to share the awkwardness with them in your brief relationship. It sounds goofy, but it rings more true than the noble fantasies of "compassion" in my head.

On Tuesday, our Thai friend Boo came over and cooked for us. Boo keeps outdoing herself in the cooking department. This time it was a yellow curry over noodles and sauteed garlic. I aim to try and recreate her achievements when I return home, but I doubt they will come close.

This week, I began my WMF project. My goal is to locate squatter communities around Bangkok. This mostly entails walking a lot. On Monday, it entailed some dude stalking me for a few blocks with a big stick. I wouldn't have minded so much if he'd actually swung the big stick or done anything for that matter, but whenever I turned on him, he just gave me a blank stare. He was either an imbecile or very high. Regardless, he left me a few blocks later.

The squatter communities are a mixture of depressingly inadequate and surprisingly tranquil. Grigg in his book Companion to the Poor distinguishes between several types of squatter communities. They are not all places of despair, although there are those. Some are highly organized, insular communities that care for their citizens. All of them exist on unclaimed property, often near a railroad track or canal. Some of them have been around for decades. I encounterd suspicious individuals, as mentioned above, but I also encountered the characteristic Thai generosity. As I walked through one community, an older gentleman came out to stop me from continuing, saying, in English, "Um, that one, he bite," as he pointed to a dog directly in front of me.

I got my payoff massage for winning the "new experience/extrem food" contest of a couple months ago. It was a real swank place. They washed our feet to begin--Tim and Jeff came along--and gave me some very loose-fitting pajamas to change into. I think she gave me the foreigner, "I'm trying not to hurt you" version of the classic Thai massage. She could have twisted me a lot further than she did, but it was nice. There was pan flute music. And then they gave us tea.

Prayer Requests:

--That I would work on my project when I have free time. Time is getting short.

Week 11 - Staying Present

It must be close to winter, because Lotus--a local megastore--has dragged out their tocques and scarves. Soon Thais will be bundling up for chilly days topping out at 85 deg. Farenheit. I will still be sweating, but even I've noticed the difference. For the past couple of weeks, I have been sliding under the sheets somewhere mid-sleep. The mornings have been dry and cool, or what passes for cool in central Thailand.

As promised, the regular schedule resumed this week, which included our Monday and Wednesday night outreaches. Additionally, we had the opportunity to visit one family we've gotten to know at their home. I think this really shows where the Mission of WMF takes traction; seeing someone who happens to beg in the context of their living space humanizes them.

I wish I could write in full about something that happened this week, but it would be unwise and maybe unsafe to publish even a slight detail. Suffice it to say that to witness the Holy Spirit calling one to belief over time is a special kind of blessing, the radical nature of which one can miss if you aren't paying careful attention.

I am trying to do my work here without distraction. In Nouwen's Compassion, he exhorts the reader to exercise a holy patience that allows them to remain in the present, particularly as it relates to our relationships. A trite, but relevant example is that of listening to someone as opposed to waiting for your turn to speak. At the same time, I have a brain, and I would have to shut it down entirely to avoid knowing that I have a mere six weeks left. I also have practical matters that need to be planned in that time. Still, there is a great need for me to remain present, to be with people--my living community, those we meet on the street, the children we teach on Saturday--in the present tense. To do otherwise, is to dehumanize them to some degree.

Prayer Requests:

--As already stated, that I would be present. As with all inward movements toward God and neighbor, I cannot do this of my own volition, but only the Spirit can move me. Pray for this grace.

Week 10 - Set

This is your first Thai lesson. In the American colloquial sense of "all set," "set" means the same thing in both English and Thai: finished. English camp is now set as we finished up the second week this past Thursday, Friday being the celebration of King Chulalongkhorn's (Rama V) death.

I do not think of myself as a kid person. Most people believe this speaks poorly of one's character. The same is often thought of those who con't consider themselves "dog people." I have historically been neither, which is why I was surprised to find myself teaching English conversation in a loud, expressive voice and even enjoying it. I particularly enjoyed the youngest group--5 to 6 yrs.--who normally sat in rapt attention--out of fear or interest I could never tell--for the bearded, tattooed hobbit yelling "one building, six buildings," over and over with wide eyes. I do not know if any of my three classes learned anything from me, but I got to know some very cool Thai kids and hopefully they got to know me a little bit.

On Tuesday, Pastor Anon wanted us to present topics on American culture at the English camp. I all but demanded to be in charge of music. I was fastidious. Believing American music comes primarily from two fountainheads: Appalachia and the Mississippi Delta. To be short, these are the artists I included: Robert Johnson, Son House, Carl Perkins, Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, Buddy Holly, Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Jack White (Cold Mountain Sdtrk), Hank Williams, and Dolly Parton. I also threw in Jenny Lewis, Sufjan Stevens, and Jay Z as examples of modern American music. Tragically, I believe Thai children may be less passionate about American music than I am as their attention often waned.

We did not all go on outreach this week. On Monday, Tim and Amy took a group of Christian leaders from this region of Asia on the same walk we do on outreach nights. On Wednesday, outreach was voluntary. Consequently, I did not go on outreach this last week. This next week will be a welcome return to normalcy, after two weeks of English camp split by a week in India. We will resume our morning devotions, study of Thai, and Monday and Wednesday outreach. Additionally, Jeff and I will join the work of the MST project for the first time this week as we minister to visiting foreign men in the bar district every Tuesday.


Prayer Requests:

--That the Lord would open my eyes. I can hardly believe I've been here ten weeks already. I often worry that I am missing something vital that I will regret ignoring after I've left. Much of the past several weeks has been full of reasoning and lacking faith. I want less of me and more cross.

--I will begin working on my WMF project, locating squatter communities around Bangkok. Pray the Lord blesses this work so that I will be dilligent in it and so that it will bear fruit.

Week 9 - Kolkata

Or Calcutta. You can wikipedia this later; they're the same place.

I was in Kolkata all week. The pragmatic side of the trip was that we had to leave Thailand and renew our visas for another sixty days. But the main reason we went to India--as opposed to a more obvious choice like Cambodia or Laos--is that we were able to see what WMF was doing in Kolkata as well as meet up with the servant team from Nepal who were going to be in Kolkata at the same time.

Other than completing the red-tape marathon necessary for a visa application, the first half of the week was spent visiting some of the places WMF works in Kolkata. We visited Freeset and volunteered for some small tasks at Sari Bari. Both manufacture bags as well as blankets and t-shirts and both offer an alternative to those working in the red-light district. This is the dignity of life or what some might call God's common grace. This is thought only came to fruition later in the week, as you will see if you read on. I could say a lot about these businesses and the importance and kingdom-relevance of their work, but the founders could say it a lot better. In lieu of my regular prayer requests, I'm going to post links to both businesses. Christmas is drawing nearer and Freeset and Sari Bari have honestly great products. Please give them a look and consider them if and when you do some Christmas shopping. Also, I suggest you get your order in now, because they go quickly, particularly for Sari Bari.

While we visited Freeset and Sari Bari, we were able to walk a good portion of Kolkata. The difference from Dallas or even from Bangkok is dramatic. Sanitation is a problem: large piles of trash are everywhere. That people would live on the street seemed to be a foregone conclusion. I have seen homelessness in every city I've visited, but never to this degree. Additionally, the coming festival dedicated to the idol Kali added a menacing touch to the delapidated condition of the place. Which is not to say I didn't witness moments of extreme beauty in the architecture, in the food, even in the disposable sculptures of Kali. But there was an air of oppression I cannot quite describe.

On Friday, we were able to volunteer at two of the houses founded by Mother Theresa. These were started by Mother Theresa, as far as I can tell, because, in the tradition of their merciless religion, society was almost literally throwing away their people, leaving them to die an animal's death in Kolkata's traffic-jammed streets. Theresa, however, saw only the image of God and, indeed, Jesus in "the least of these." This is the dignity of dying. For over fifty years, sisters, workers, and volunteers of varying terms have sought to give these men and women just that dignity. Giving our fellow men and women dignity from birth to death, led and guided by the saving grace of the Holy Spirit. That, I think, or something like it, is the vocation of the every member of the church and can only be done as the church.

Other than that, I had great fun meeting the Nepal team, the Kolkata staff, trying great food--Thailand's still got it beat--and experiencing another country. I've still got a lot of undeveloped film and now I've added one more roll. Pictures forthcoming. For now, I'm back in Bangkok and preparing to finish up the English camp at Jaisamarn church this week.

For all your Christmas shopping needs:

http://www.saribari.com/

http://www.freesetglobal.com/

Week 8 - Hello, how are you?

I've repeated the above litany many times this past week, expecting an emphatic "I am fine, thank you. And you?" Monday thru Friday was the first week of English camp at Jaisemarn Church 68, an offshoot of the larger branch in downtown Bangkok. The Hupes have a relationship with the church and volunteered us for two weeks of the three week camp. For me, the week consisted of a daily cycle of waking not early enough and teaching conversational English to three age groups, usually with hilarious results. As most of you know, I have no formal training in teaching conversational English. Luckily, we all have a free period. I used mine efficiently, hiking to Ramkamhaeng rd. to have coffee and read The Possessed. During the morning period, I have an older student named Beer (sic) to whom I have nothing to teach, so I dedicate a portion of our 1 hr. 15 min. session to "stump Beer time." I've yet to succeed.

Although street outreach was optional this week, due to the rigors of lesson planning, I and a couple other people did venture out on Wednesday night. We made a point to limit ourselves to visiting beggars we had met. We visited a few people whose names I already knew. This is a simple, but huge portion of WMF's ministry here: giving names to those forgotten by the secular empire. On Saturday, one of the girls who begs with her sisters on Nana St. had a birthday, so we visited her there amidst the bars and carousing and evil and confusion and simply wished her a happy birthday.

Street outreach is a short and eloquent way to say we walk up and down Sukhumvit Rd., sometimes seeing people we know, with whom those skilled in Thai can have a decent conversation. Sometimes I'm the one talking and, in broken Thai, I ask for a name and place and little else. Sometimes we hardly see anybody. And yet I can't get away from the mystery of being a walking temple of the Holy Ghost in such a rote task. I can't see Him and I certainly can't feel Him, but a word tells me He is there in my bones. Last week, I was reminded that He blew over this planet once already and made everything and I wondered at Him having to breathe over it all over again. I cannot, for all my big words, tell you that I understand it entirely, but I hope while I'm out there that I'm some redeemed bit of the King's Body and not just a plodding loner with a big beard and pious habits.

Tomorrow morning, we go to India to renew our visa and see a little of what WMF is doing in that country. We will also volunteer a day at the home established by Mother Theresa. I can hardly believe I get this chance and that it's so soon. I can hardly believe I've been here for half my time already. Additionally, the WMF team from Nepal will be traveling there during the same time and I will get to see a long lost friend from college. Even halfway around the world, I'm bumping into Golden Eagles.

Prayer Requests:

--Pray for the team and for our community. Scripture attaches a lot of importance to our relationships with the rest of the Body of Christ. Pray the devil will find no foothold in our frustrations.

--Pray for my prayer time. I am giving into the subtle temptation to put off prayer. Refer to request #1. This is just such a foothold. Sin is great, but greater the grace.

Lord's Week - Pictures

I'm taking a week off from my long monologue style and posting some pictures. I brought camera technology of the Andre Aggasi era and consequently don't have the ability to take and post pictures immediately. Buuut, my fellow teammate Melanie does and she was kind enough to send me these pictures.

The culmination of our first contest: eating weird food. Ultimately, I accumulated the most points and won myself a traditional Thai massage, which I hear is something like professional wrestling.

Respectfully greeting Mr. McDonald Thai-style

The birthday morning feast and entertainment--MGMT--prepared by my teammates.

The Servant Team: Back-Jeff, Melanie, Emily; Front-Me, Bethany, Boo, and Jim. Boo and Jim are friends of the Hupes and have been helping teach us Thai language and cooking.

The team singing at a Thai church with Tim at the far right

Melanie, Bethany, and me putting our lives in the hands of a reckless Tuk-Tuk driver