Asian monsoon storms produce thunder that sound like bombs. Unfortunately I do know what bombs sound like.
I hear thunder. I look up at the sky; no storm clouds, no rain. I
hear sirens... perhaps the lightening has struck a building?
How wrong I was… three and half years in Bangkok makes you lose your
crisis sensitivity.
In the hour following the “thunder”, social media alights
with information about what really happened at 7.15pm on the 17th of
August in central Bangkok.
800m away from where I live, a pipe bomb loaded with 3kg of
explosives detonated at a Hindu shrine (also visited by hundreds of Buddhists
every day), killing 20 people and injuring over 100, some very seriously. The
vast majority of casualties and wounded were Thai.
Now, if I was living in a different country, I would continue this
article with a political analysis and express my opinion about the problems
here. Due to strict laws preventing free expression in Thailand, including
an archaic Lese Majeste law and the current Military Junta controlling the
country, I simply cannot.
While twenty innocent souls perished on a pavement a few meters from
our home, a caterpillar which we had been taking care of, completed her life
cycle and emerged from the chrysalis as a beautiful butterfly, at dawn, this
morning. When I awoke, I saw her spread her wings, ready to fly free. It was an
incredible moment, pure and humbling. I am not a religious person. I don’t
consider myself spiritual, either.
These two events happened together: death, rebirth, destruction and
beauty…
How do I explain to my 5 year old that there are people in this
world who take other people’s lives? How do I explain that to her?
I ran 8km this morning. I ran past the barricaded streets, I ran
past the half empty market stalls, the nervous policemen directing traffic and
the closed schools. I looked at people’s faces. No smiles, no laughter, just
grim expressions of hopelessness. This struck me. If you have ever lived in
Thailand, you will know that the Thai are very friendly, happy. They smile and
laugh, always.
I ran into the park, I ran past the park guards, I ran past the groups of elderly men and women sitting together, I ran past the walkers, the juice stand seller, the gardeners sweeping the leaves fallen during the night.
Sad and depressed…everyone.
My past experiences have not prepared me well for this type of reaction: In Beirut, I watched the Lebanese partying during civil unrest. They
ate dinner at restaurants while bombs exploded and aerial raids destroyed the
city. In Eastern DRC, I danced with the Congolese under the threat of
continuous violence. We drank local beer and laughed. In Palestine, during yet
another Israeli imposed lockdown, I saw Palestinian families gather around a
table and eat and share their dreams and hopes, all very joyfully.
The Thai are very patriotic. Their country, their unity, their
language, their culture are extremely important to them. The Thai are not
comfortable with conflict and negativity, in every day life. They don’t argue
openly, they don’t offend, they don’t refuse or say no. They are reserved and
accommodating.
The combination of the extreme violence of killing innocent people
and the prospect of it destabilising their beloved country, is what I read on
peoples’ faces this morning. It was heartbreaking.
The Lebanese, the Palestinians and the Congolese are used to civil
strife, violence and conflict. They have found the coping mechanisms that are
culturally acceptable. The Thai have responded in their own way.
Today, we don’t know who did this, why they did this and what will
happen next…
