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Tuesday 21 April 2009

A Weekend of Fun - Thai Boxing and Morlam

My weekend in Thamuang coincided with the annual festivities of raising funds for the temple and Songkhran. Khamma and I and most of the family made the most of everything that was going on in the village and from Friday night to Monday night there was never a dull moment and hardly a nano second to take a breather. It is testament to the spirit of the village community that so many events were organised and well attended. Of course we have village fetes in Diggle and the Beer Walk and the Whit weekend band contest that are firm favourites and well attended. The atmosphere is different in Thamuang because everybody knows each other and there isn't that uneasy feeling of half knowing someone through watching them drive to work at 7.30 every morning but not quite familiar enough to say hello face to face. When I was more permanent in Diggle I hardly saw my neighbours from one month to the next. Often, as I cleaned my car, I would cast a half a wave, more in hope than expectation, that I would engage in conversation about something or other with a neighbour. I always had a good chat with John, one of the rare breed of neighbours who genuinely enjoyed a natter, Sarah Jane would say hello, but usually she was off somewhere in a hurry. I don't know much about the rest of my neighbours even after nine years living in the same house.
In Thamuang it is different. There our neighbours drop in for a chat and a glass of water, or bring some surplus mushrooms and bamboo shoots. It is an echo of my childhood in Hazel Grove where neighbours would take in your washing if it started to rain, or help with the shopping, or lend a cup of milk. As you walk down the road in Thamuang people ask where you are going, what have you got and how much did it cost. In Diggle we would tell these nosy parkers to 'bugger off' and mind your own business, but the Thai openness and superficial inquisitiveness make it as natural as, well, getting on with your neighbours.
So it was with spring in our step that we strode purposefully to the temple for the annual Thai boxing and Morlam music concert (or gig as we would call it in Diggle). The temple was transformed from the usual open and peaceful and tidy sanctuary into something resembling a fair ground. Lots of mobile fast food stalls selling fish balls (?) meat balls, fried grasshoppers, BBQ chicken, beef, pork to be consumed with spicy sauces laced with chillies, garlic and ginger were parked on the main road. These vendors had a steady trade from the Thamuang faithful who turned out for the event. I was taken aback by the controlled access into the temple grounds and somewhat astonished to see Khamma's cousin smartly dressed in the khaki uniform and shiny black boots of the village security corps. He looked very smart but completely out of character wearing a riot helmet and carrying a sizable truncheon in his right hand tapping the side of his leg. He was one of many similar dressed trying to look menacing with a look in the eye that indicated they were there patrolling the grounds to prevent trouble, but if anything started they were unsure how to stop it!
We moved into the Thai boxing area which on every other day of the year does nothing except bake in the fierce sun, but for this night only was hosting a floodlit boxing ring with ringside seats for the judges and dignitaries and the famous. There was a commentator amusing the crowd with his comments and wit. There was a beer stall also enjoying a brisk trade on this hot humid night under the Thailand stars.
Altogether there were fifteen bouts starting with the young kids of about ten years old rising through the age groups to the top billing of the champions (I think). I had not been to a Thai boxing event before and soon realised I didn't know what was going on, for example how do they scored points and decided a winner. I have been to professional boxing in the UK and like to watch out for local heroes like Ricky Hatton and Amir Khan. As a kid I enjoyed sitting round the radio with my Dad listening to the Henry Cooper fights against Sonny Liston, Floyd Patterson and of course Mohammed Ali was, and still is, my all time hero.
No such legends were on the bill tonight at the Thamuang Temple, but there were plenty of feisty young kids and it was a very entertaining and enjoyable evening. I remember one young boy who was about three foot nothing ducking and weaving like the champ, then a kick where his leg spun his entire body round and his perfect balance brought him back to the start all in the flash of eye. This was serious fighting with prize money as well as pride at stake.
The smell of the boxing liniment, the glistening muscular bodies shining in the lights. That first contact where the impact of the irresistible force against the immovable object explodes into a spray from a mixture of sweat, liniment and water and is silhouetted against the clinical white lights of the ringside spotlights. It was a great atmosphere egged on with the crowd backing their favourite and 'oohing' and 'aghing' as every punch and kick landed on their opponent.
I think this is close to a true sport as you can get. Then a spotlight bulb fell out of its socket onto the ring. Luckily none of the barefooted fighters trod on it.
We met up with Adrian and Rattana our new friends from down the road. It is good to meet farang to have a chat and compare notes and I'm sure we will be sharing more beers together in the months to come.
We moved onto the Morlam gig. Morlam is the music of Isaan area of northeast Thailand. Tonight was a fusion of normal drums and guitars with a traditional 'cann' and singing in a deep monotone style. In its way it is similar to English folk songs, but it is much more popular and the people of Isaan love to listen and dance and sing. We took a spot near to a group of friends and family and watched the 'cann' player weave his music around the stories spun by the singer. They were backed up by the band and the men were distracted by the 'eye candy' of the dancers who did an excellent job contributing to the visual effects of the music! Everybody on stage was performing well and the crowd was dancing in front of the Buddha. I looked around and caught a glimpse of the monks looking on from their dormitory, smiling and no doubt wishing they were dancing with everybody else. It did occur to me that it seemed incongruous for the temple to open itself to all this cavorting, but the senior monks are just as part of the community as everyone else and as this is an event to raise money for the temple so, I guess at worst they tolerate it and at best they enjoy it as much as anyone else.
But suddenly, on the stroke of midnight, a shock wave poured through the crowd from the dance floor. Screaming and shouting displaced the band and the stage was being evacuated part in self defence, part in an futile attempt to restore order. The pent up anger of local youth which had been festering over the last twelve months burst open like an angry boil on the back of your neck. Local gangs clashed and now targeted males were being beaten senseless. Of course drink was the catalyst, but the event itself was the obvious draw for this kind of trouble. Entirely predictable, hence the local security from Dad's Army, but nobody could keep the rivals apart. There was a panic for a while but after twenty minutes the band re-appeared and started all over again as if nothing had happened. Dad's Army re-appeared from behind the temple to assure the crowds they were in control, but a glance around the grounds showed that nothing was further from the truth and it was only a matter of time before round two would kick off.
There have been gigs like this in Thailand where guns have been produced and the violence is more serious. Luckily this is Thamuang where fists do the the talking. Khamma and I had seen enough so along with Yo we walked back home under the stars to the sound of the frogs in the fields.

The comparison to England is the same. Drink fuels violence whether it is in Thamuang or Diggle. Young men will always strut their stuff wherever they are, whatever their creed and culture, whenever they have drunk enough to let their bravdo surface and take on all comers. The guns are also there as we saw in Bangkok last Friday and was affirmed today by the now underground leaders of the red shirts. It is a pity that some in the world want to be like this whereby the majority just want to get on with their neighbours.

2 comments:

  1. Quite a story. Glad you all got away and home safely. I'm quite happy to witness an occasional dust up, but the whole drunken gun thing is very worrying....

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  2. It was all expected and hopefully the gun mentality will not arrive in Thamuang. I thought it would better to stick them in boxing ring and let them knock seven shades out of each other.
    The sad part is the violence occurs every year and measures to control it are not working. Eventually the leaders will stop organising the events and everyone suffers because of the mindlessness from the minority. I hope it doesn't end like this but it is the only solution at the end of day. The police are too busy and to few to help every village......

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