Last time we left off, the ride had just begun. Curious, eager, and equipped with a few essential phrases of Thai we left our

sheltered university in Khon Kaen to explore a new classroom, the real world. Since this time, we have ventured through sugar

cane fields, dunked ourselves into the great mother Mekong, and stood atop towering piles of trash. Beginning in the city of

Yasothon, we heard from farmers who had converted to organic agriculture after experiencing the not-so-pretty side-effects of

chemically dependent farming. After returning to our dormitories for a brief respite, it was off to landfill and slum communities

to understand the struggle of having no permanent land titles, rendered invisible to mainstream society. From there we split

up into separate groups to discuss the relationship between CIEE and the communities we visit. By this point, we had more

ideas than is healthy, so it was crucial that we actually spoke with villagers, pushing back on each to determine how we could

continue meaningful partnerships- deciding what types of projects we could produce, what these communities really saw as

important, and how we could work together to arrive at these places of hope. Most recently, we have concluded a unit on

dams, which involved travelling to villages affected by the impediment of water’s flow, including communities by the banks

of the wondrous Mekong River. The journey has been rich and swift; we have quickly come face to face with the impacts of

development and with each other. Hopefully these stories shed some light on what a unique place this is to be.

CIEE Khon KaEn SprIng 2010

BE HERE Now ISSuE No. 2 ApRIL 2010

Cyril Bennouna (university of Michigan) ....................................14Liam Dixon (occidental College) .............................................. 19Gianna Fazioli (university of Michigan) ......................................17Charlotte Friedman (Bates College) ............................................ 9Larissa Gaias (Bowdoin College) ................................................. 10Becky Goncharoff (Transylvania university) ............................... 13Caitlin Goss (occidental College) .............................................. 15Emily Hanson (Macalester College) .................................................. 4Ben Hudgens (Claremont McKenna College) ............................... 19Ann Kam (Claremont McKenna College) .................................... 5Megan Keaveney (Denison university) ......................................... 8

Abe Levine (Macalester College) .............................................. 18 Stephanie Liu (Northeastern university) ..................................... 8 Bijal Makadia (George washington university) ........................ 6 Rachel Mattingly (Denison university) ..................................... 11 Maggie McLagan (univ. of Colorado at Boulder) ...................... 7 Jenna Mendell (George washington university) ....................... 21 April Morris (univ. of Colorado at Boulder) .............................. 13 Kayla Nolan (occidental College) ............................................ 14 Leslie o’Bray (Georgetown university) ..................................... 10 Maggie pearson (Macalester College) ....................................... 5 Ilse pukinskis (Bowdoin College) ...............................................16 Amy Saekow (Middlebury College) .......................................... 17 Samantha Sencer-Mura (occidental College) .......................... 12 Barrie Schwartz (university of Michigan) ............................ 5 Althea Smith (Georgetown university) .......................................18 Ben Smith (Indiana university) ................................................. 20 Esther Sosa (Bowdoin College) ................................................... 3

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Table of ConTenTs

Newsletter Editing Staff:Alexander Binder (univ. of Colorado at Boulder), Claire Coddington (occidental College), Emily Hanson (Macalaster College), Ann Kam (Claremont McKenna College), Stephanie Liu (Northeastern univ.), Jenna Mendell (George washington univ.), April Morris (univ. of Colo-rado at Boulder), Samantha Sencer-Mura (occidental College), Michelle Nguyen (Brown univ.), and Barrie Schwartz (univ. of Michigan)

FarmEr: a bEttEr namE For SlavE?Esther SosaBowdoin College: Economics; Environmental Studies

After an extensive orientation, we finally began the semester with unit one, which focused on agriculture. Reflecting back on the unit, I realized that farmers in both Thailand and America, despite their different economic standings, have marginalized farmers. Farmers in both countries are falling in more debt to big corporations such as Charoen pokphand (Cp), perdue, and Tyson. Consequently, these farmers work to pay off their debts rather than turn a profit. Farmers have become the slaves of the 21st century.

Farmers from Roi Et and Yasothon provinces in Northeast Thai-land are in debt to Cp, for whom they produce cash crops. These farmers’ debt can be attributed to the increasing prices of and de-pendence on chemical fertilizer. Fifty years ago, Ban Dong Dip Vil-lage in Roi Et province began growing cassava, a cash crop that is converted into sugar. The village became increasingly connected to the international community and became susceptible to mar-ket prices. As the price of cassava fell, the revenue was less than the farmers’ initial investment and farmers fell ino debt. The mono-cropping, clearing of the land, and use of chemicals destroyed the diversity and fertility of the land. Additionally, farmers are currently

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experiencing diminishing marginal returns on fertilizer. For exam-ple, a bag of fertilizer is only good for one rai of land, and that same bag a couple of years ago would have been sufficient for two rai. In Yasothon, farmers who have completely converted to organic farming are similarly slowly paying off their debt. Because they no longer have to pay for fertilizer, they are able to generate a small profit, which they invest in their children’s educations.

Robert Kenner, director of Food, Inc., expresses a similar situa-tion with American farmers. In the united States, chicken farmers on average owe $500,000 to companies such as perdue and Tyson because they must invest in their own chicken houses. Therefore, they work to pay off their debt. Farmers are no longer working for themselves, but instead for large corporations.

As the world becomes increasingly more globalized, a more modern form of slavery seems to have arisen. Farmers are the back-bone of our society and should be treated with dignity. we need to put an end to this injustice by not supporting policies that benefit large corporations.

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agrICulturE and SElF-SuStaInabIlItyEmily HansonMacalester College: Environmental Studies

Arriving in Yasothon for the first unit of our program, I was excited to learn about agriculture. It is my main interest in the States, aca-demic and otherwise, and I knew I would enjoy my time learning about alternative agriculture in Thailand. I did learn a lot about the issues during our exchanges but, unexpectedly I learned the most in the hours spent quietly observing and living with my host family. In

the morning, we all went out to the farm to work – Amy and I help-ing our da, or grandpa, mulch the rows of corn, and planting beans with our yai, or grandma. The kids, aged two and five, helped too, spraying water for the thirsty yard-long beans, helping mix compost with dirt. In the evenings, their father would return with fish he had just caught in the pond outside. They would watch as he cleaned and skinned the fish, and he would talk to them quietly, instructing and chatting intermittently. After dinner, he would point at the alphabet poster on the wall, drilling them on their letters, before sitting them down with a book.

I grew up with a vegetable garden in the corner of my yard and miles of woods stretching up the hill behind my house. My parents wanted me to know where vegetables came from, and that identify-ing bugs in the woods is more exciting than looking at pictures of them on pages. Although I was raised in this relatively well-rounded manner, I have come to realize through my years in higher education that most of American society operates rather differently. The goal for most, it seems, is specialization. Learning happens in the classroom, food production happens on farms, and most of the goods we use ev-ery day are made in factories. The processes we depend on are sepa-rated, categorized and sent far away from their origins, the home.

with my host family, I felt the pieces of life that had been alienated from the home in the uS coming back together. They grew their food 100 meters down the road on their farm and prepared it together as a family. The kids learned from their parents and grandparents, from the soil and the fish in the pond. Their mother had decided to home school them because she was frustrated with how the Thai education system taught children to memorize facts and work towards financial prosperity instead of thinking critically and working toward happi-ness. The family had decided to switch to organic farming because they wanted to bring the production of their food back to their own land. Many would call this model of small, sustainable farming and child rearing “self-sufficiency”, but I came to see that it is much more than that. It is an intense dependency on the family and community, instead of far-removed “experts” in education and agriculture.

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SurvIvIng lIFE In thE raIlroad SlumSAnn KamClaremont McKenna College: International Relations

“I am very proud of my community,” proclaimed Tongsook wan-yawoot, 48, while sitting amongst water basins and stray electrical wires. “But, I am [still] waiting for basic infrastructure.”

As one of the oldest residents of the Nong waeng slum commu-nity, which is situated near the railroad tracks in downtown Khon Kaen, Tongsook has waited decades for a lease to the land that her house resides on. unfortunately, she is one of 142 households that suffer the same situation. For the past 30 years, the State Railway Authority of Thailand (SRT), the agency that erected the railroad adjacent to Nong waeng, has refused to acknowledge nearby resi-

dents. The SRT owns the 40 meters of land on either side of the tracks and considers Tongsook and her neighbors as trespassers.

Consequently, the municipal government won’t issue permanent housing registration numbers to residents. without the numbers, residents must wrestle school administrations, are barred from be-ing formally employed, and cannot access running water or perma-nent electricity.

Tongsook has experienced such deprivations from a young age. Growing up, neither her parents nor the government could support her education.

“I [was] very poor… So I used a… little blackboard and I [had] no school supplies,” she recalls.

Expensive schooling led Tongsook to drop out and begin work-ing at age 14. At 16, she was hired as a nanny for five baht per day. Later, she worked as a day laborer for 15 baht per day. Today, Tongsook works as a maid at Kaseansin place, an apartment com-plex near Khon Kaen university. She works six days a week from 7:30 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. for a stipend of 5,000 baht per month. The apartment residents like Tongsook because she greets people with her contagious smile. Her light-heartedness, however, masks the worries that constantly bog her mind. Many of her troubles revolve around financial problems. Recently, Tongsook borrowed a 5,000 baht loan from Nong waeng’s headman.

Loans are not the only thing Tongsook must pay off. Each month, she spends 600 baht to get electricity wired into her house and over 70 baht to pump tap water into large clay jars. Tongsook pays high rates for amenities because a middleman, rather than the govern-ment, provides them. If the politics unfold correctly, Nong waeng might see an improvement in its infrastructure. Six months ago, an NGo started the leasing process between the community and the SRT. If their leased is approved, the residents of Nong waeng will be notified within two months. But regardless, Tongsook will always take pride in her community.

lIFE In thaIlandMaggie pearson and Barrie SchwartzMacalester College: Environmental Studies and Geographyuniversity of Michigan: English

napping. haystacks. plowing. walking. gates.cowchasing

sustainable. buffalo. mai cow jai. fried frogs. dirty water. sweat. bugs in shirt. rice.

cucumber. tomatoes. eggplant. yard long beans. stars. flashlights. mosquito nets. farming. weeding. swimming. big eyes. no lights.

four a.m. itchy. fishing. AAN. green market. laughter. language barrier. organic. mats in shade.

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wIld In thE SlumSBijal Makadia

George washington university: Business Administration

There was a cool breeze that chilled the night air, an unfamiliar relief from the typically hot and sticky Thai evenings we were used to. our third home stay was in a slum community near downtown Khon Kaen. By now, we were practically experts in the customary evening schedule of Thai people; bathe, eat dinner, an hour or two of sitting around, and in bed by nine at night. on this particular evening, how-ever, there was something in the air besides a breeze..

we had just finished eating dinner and I had followed my little home-stay brother as he led me down the block. Community mem-bers sat in front of their homes along the street, talking casually, enjoying the break from the heat, and relaxing from a long day of work. As we approached the bigger clumps of community mem-bers, I was happy to see the familiar faces of my CIEE peers. we exchanged words on our day and sat at a picnic table watching the young children play, never expecting what happened next.

The feeling spread among them like an infectious disease, spar-ing no one. The transformation occurred within a blink of an eye. As easy as a light switch, the cute, innocent faces of these Thai children were no longer. our inability to understand the Thai chatter sud-denly became irrelevant as shrieks, growling, and screams filled the chilled night sky. we looked at each other, confused and slightly scared as a madness swept over the children.

Suddenly my arms were being pulled in different directions while children were fighting to climb my back. The energy was overwhelming and I had no choice, I had to let the madness in. It was an abrupt transformation, painless and freeing. Before I knew

it, I was running like a mad woman up and down the block, being chased by dozens of little monsters and when the time felt right, turning directions and chasing dozens of little monsters away. we communicated in yelling and roars. on several occasions I attempt-ed to break up two little ones clawing and growling at each other, failed endeavors, I should add. The monsters fought for turns riding on my back. we raced and engaged in violent hand combat with the other pair of CIEE student and monster. we took turns scream-ing as loud as we could. There were ghosts running around with flashlights and blankets. A fierce wildness was in their eyes and an indescribable feeling of happy savageness was in the air.

The adults of the community did little to restore order, continu-ing conversation, giving an uninterested glance from time to time. occasionally, an old man would walk by and say “Good Morning.” It wasn’t until my home-stay mom came down the block to bring me home for bedtime that my pupils returned to their normal size, my fangs receded, my green scales faded, and the madness leaked slowly out of my mind..

I do not spend sleepless nights in Bangkok and wake up with neon body paint in my hair and I haven’t attended any crazy beach parties in phuket. CIEE’s program in Thailand does not fulfill the expected norm of study abroad partying in many ways yet I do not feel deprived. I will always remember the untamed madness in the air and the curious events of this particular evening. unlike many of my friends, my nights abroad are wild in a whole other sense of the word and needless to say, I was sound asleep by nine at night.

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landFIll ExpErIEnCEMaggie McLaganuniv. of Colorado at Boulder: psychology

I will never forget waking up at 5:00 AM to a cup of hot coffee ready for me to ingest, accompanied by a large bamboo basket filled to the brim with steaming sticky rice with a plate of ripe mango on the side. I was so nervous to go to the landfill that I could barely eat my delicious breakfast that was anxiously waiting for my consumption.

Finally, only after my host mom handed me a camouflage bucket hat and brand new long sleeve t-shirt did I slip on my rubber boots and muster up the courage to go do the work she does eight hours a day every day. Steph, my home stay mate, and I grabbed bottled water, bandanas, and our cameras and dragged our feet behind our home stay family, rolling our eyes and cursing under our breaths.

The second we arrived at the site, it smelled unlike anything I can describe. our host mom handed us scavenging tools and a huge straw basket that was meant for collecting recyclables that were dumped in with regular trash. Right as we started walking towards the other vil-lagers, our shirts were yanked from the back to move aside as a fresh graffiti-smothered garbage truck bulldozed backwards through our pathway, emitting black exhaust clouds and eventually slamming on the brakes after motioning to dump its contents. The second that the truck started to tilt its metal basin full of trash, around 20 scavengers rushed to the site to start sifting through the food waste and insane amount of unnecessary consumer goods.

with our host mom prodding us onto the heap of waste and with my handkerchief keeping hardly any skin exposed to the air, I began

to find bottles and cans buried within the hill. After I got used to it, it was actually fun to scavenge. I found myself excited when new garbage trucks came. The competition to find the most recyclables was made into a game to us students. At one point my mom yelled to me, “suai mai (beautiful)?” as she held up a pair of cloth pants that she pulled out of a plastic bag for me. I nodded yes and she gave them to me later that day after she washed them.

we stayed at the landfill for two nights and three days. During this time we learned that this landfill was supposed to close seven years ago because it was practically overflowing. But, because the scavengers take out a lot of recyclables, the city can afford to keep it open. Although they make a surprisingly decent income, the scav-engers face vast health problems. Asthma and respiratory problems seem to be the biggest issues in the village–almost everyone has experienced them. private hospitals dump their medical waste at this landfill, so virtually every single villager has been stabbed by a syringe at one point or another. The worst thing that they have found is a box of grenades. Even though you can find some crazy items there, the landfill is made up of mostly plastic bags and pack-aging from consumer goods.

Although it seems extreme, I think it is pretty awesome to be a part of a program that exposes people to things like consumer waste. I will never forget the experiences at the landfill and I have most definitely vowed to use less plastic bags.

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traShIng traShStephanie LiuNortheastern university: International Affairs

It seemed backwards. I had spent the morning at a landfill in search of recyclables. The landfill in Khon Kaen is operating at overcapacity and many of the old piles of trash are nothing more than mountains of pesky materials that do not decompose nearly fast enough.

And yet I was being offered water in a plastic, disposable cup from my host mom. Reusable cups lay only a few centimeters away, and yet she reached for the disposable cups.

I didn’t accept the water. I was taken aback by the fact that the people who scavenge through

our trash and have to live, see, and breathe with the end result of much our consumption do not seem to care about reducing our waste.

Most frustrating about trash is that there are many steps every-one should take to reduce waste. The grassroots-level solutions are simple, and yet no emphasis is put on them. when the general pub-lic learned about global warming, we bought energy-efficient light bulbs and turned off the lights, but we never addressed our trash. Don’t forget that trash contributes to global warming via methane and dioxins released during incineration.

So how do we solve this problem? A root cause of the trash problem is that we, the consumers, are

so far removed from our trash that we do not know where it goes. I can at least tell you which country my product originated from,

but I cannot tell you where the nearest landfill is. we are taught to recycle, but we have no idea where our recyclables go either. They might be shipped to China and dumped in a landfill there for all we know. Recycling is not perfect, and it is not enough to reduce the input at landfills. There are three Rs of a closed-loop cycle: reduce, reuse, recycle. Somehow, we ended up getting caught up on the last R and disregarded the first two. Reduction is achievable in so many ways – bringing your own grocery bags, buying unpackaged food, and so on. Consider this: diapers are the third largest con-tributor to our landfills. Yes, having to wash a cloth diaper is slightly less convenient, but you save money and a lot of landfill space.

And what about reusing? Reusing is the most difficult of the three Rs because our economy and culture is always pressuring us to buy more. we toss things without reconsidering and buy things we know will break in a short period.

our landfills are filing up at an alarmingly quick rate, and we need to take action. we recycle, but we have to consider reducing and reusing as well. “packaged convenience” is actually extremely inconvenient because it contributes an obscene amount to the land-fill. Do you really need individually wrapped slices of cheese? If the three Rs are widely practiced, then hopefully consumer demand will shift to buying in bulk or buying simply-packaged products. As a result, companies would rethink their packaging. we can only hope, though, that consumers become more conscientious shop-pers. otherwise, our landfills will continue to overflow and our trash will come back to bite us.

nIght SCavEngIngMegan KeaveneyDenison university: Sociology and Anthropology

Covered head to toe in clothing, the small fraction of our larger CIEE group pressed on walking through the landfill. It was our first night in the landfill and our group went out to scavenge around 8:30 p.m. with a few flashlights guiding our way, we were all laughing, trying not to be freaked out by stray dogs or random plastic bags. The bags would blow past us and we mistake these bags for ghosts or small animals of course. when we reached the landfill, we spot-ted a small boy on a mound of garbage. He was standing awfully

still and we would not have even noticed him had he not moved. He jumped off the pile and ran towards his dad on the ground. on the concrete floor in the middle of mountains of trash, the fam-ily had one blanket, a few pillows and a mosquito net to shelter them. His mother rummaged through a pile of bottles, her head-lamp guiding her every step. The little boy is 3. They were waiting for the 9pm garbage truck. working from 8pm-8am, the family slept throughout the day and then repeated the process. As the garbage truck’s light penetrated the darkness down the dirt road, the little boy rose, picked up a hoe (much longer in length than he was) and with basket in hand (this basket capable of holding three of him), he looked like one of the seven dwarfs. He stood under the only lamp-post within a hundred feet, hoe and basket draped over his shoul-der, staring off into the distance presumably waiting for the dump truck. He knew the routine. It was a pretty powerful picture, seeing this little boy, thinking about his daily routine, wondering what the future had in store for him. Despite all my thoughts regarding this little boy’s future, I thought about what in the immediate present his family needed help with. They needed a huge pile of bottles sorted into various bags. So that’s what we did. Direct and tangible help. It’s really about the small things.

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lEt’S worK togEthEr to bE lESS waStEFulCharlotte FriedmanBates College: Environmental Studies; women and Gender Studies

1. obtain a reusable water bottleplastic never biodegrades, so even if you recycle it, it will break into smaller toxic bits.“Imagine a water bottle filled a quarter of the way up with oil. That’s about how much oil was needed to produce the bottle.” – National Geographic

Ways to remember: I have realized that carrying my water bottle with me everywhere I go is an effective way to prevent myself from buying plastic bottles.

2. use reusable bags rather than plastic bagsplastic bags take up to 1,000 years to degrade.If you forget your reusable bag, ask yourself if you even need a bag. Then, if you have to use a paper or plastic bag, reuse it later.

Ways to remember: Keep your reusable bags in your car, so they are with you wherever you go (don’t keep it in your trunk if you’re forgetful; I never remember them there). If you walk plac-es, keep your bag next to the front door.

3. when getting food to go, use tupperware instead of receiving Styrofoam or plastic

Styrofoam takes thousands of years to decomposeWays to remember: Whenever I forget my Tupperware, I prevent myself from getting what I wanted. If it is a food that doesn’t need a container (like fruit) then I will ask for it without the bag or container.

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4. buy in bulk to avoid packagingBe aware of buying in bulk because some bulk items are pack-aged individually and then packaged again to be sold in bulk, thus not minimizing waste.

Ways to remember: When you go to the grocery store, think about how much of what you are buying will end up in the trash.

5. reduce your use of paperThe average office worker uses 10,000 sheets of copy paper each year (that is enough paper to build a 12-foot high wall stretching from New York to San Francisco). – Minnesota office of Environmental Assistance

Ways to remember:When printing utilize both sides of the paper.Do not recycle paper you do not need right away – save it for use as scrap paper.Use e-mail and computers instead of printing something out if it’s possible.

lastly, having someone to hold you accountable is the best way to remember!

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Before I came on this program, being “sustainable” was something I really struggled with. Although I am an Environmental Studies major and have learned about my impact, it was always hard for me to remember the small steps I can take. This is because I was often too lazy or would simply forget. For example, when I was at college I bought two totebags to bring to the market instead of using paperbags, but I always forgot to bring them. However, after visiting the landfill and other communities who are impacted by environmental issues pertaining to waste and living with 30 other students who are generally committed to being less wasteful, I have finally begun to work harder and put more effort into minimizing the waste I produce. Here is a list of 5 small steps that people can take to produce less waste:

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grEEn Study abroadLarissa Gaias and Leslie o’BrayBowdoin College: psychology and Environmental StudiesGeorgetown university: Science, Technology and International Affairs

For the first month of the program, many of us grumbled about how wasteful we felt we were being in Thailand. we would eat an individual yogurt cup in the morning, maybe with a mini box of Frosted Flakes, a big plastic bottle of water (because we cannot drink the tap), get some fresh pineapple for a mid-morning snack, which invariably comes in a plastic bag placed inside another plas-tic bag, snag some take-out lunch in a will-never-decompose-styro-foam container also inside a plastic bag, and down an iced coffee pick-me-up in the afternoon.

For a program that places such emphasis on student empower-ment and environmental studies, we felt remarkably disempowered about our impact in the world. we don’t have a kitchen to cook for ourselves nor do we have a fridge so we can buy our soymilk by the gallon rather than the juice box. Thinking about the lifestyle we are living here in Thailand, coupled with the carbon-emitting 20-hour plane ride and constant car rides around the country, a friend remarked about being here, “I feel like I’m doing more harm than good.”

part of me justified this lifestyle by remembering that we were abroad, and that there were other lessons to be learned while here.

we placated ourselves by thinking, “well, it’s only one semester of living this way.” However, it’s a different story when you think of the compounded impacts of all of the students who are “only living here for one semester.”

Luckily, we found that we can change things. we could buy tupperwares and use them instead of bags and styrofoam contain-ers. Nalgenes and reusable plastic cups could hold water and take-out coffee. The phrase “Mai sai tung” (Don’t put it in a bag) de-creased our waste dramatically.

we realized that we should not only focus on passing on proj-ects with the communities we work with, but we should also leave a legacy of sustainability within the CIEE program itself. Hence the formation of our first “on-campus club”, CIEE sustainability, with three sub-groups: the garden club, the kitchen club, and the climate action plan group.

The garden club started after we learned about food and organic agriculture. Realizing how little of the food we consume here in Khon Kaen is grown organically, students approached Ajaan Dave, the resi-dent director, about creating an organic garden so we can plant, har-vest, and eat our own vegetables. we already have plants growing. The students created a schedule for watering and weeding, and have talked with our neighbors about watering while we are away.

The kitchen club is in the midst of drawing up plans for what we need in the kitchen and where we will place it. Ajaan Dave agreed to build a mini-kitchen and purchase a fridge for the students to use so we are not so dependent on food vendors.

Lastly, the CIEE climate action plan is examining the environ-mental impact of the program, and what the institution can be do-ing better to make it a green study abroad program. we decided to first establish a baseline of the current environmental impact of the program (by looking at our electricity, water, and vehicle gas bills, as well as weighing our trash) over a period of time, and then discussing ways to reduce these numbers. The program can con-tinue using and updating these reduction goals as years go on. we are also hopeful that a green study abroad pedagogy will catch on throughout CIEE and other off campus study organizations.

Through work with CIEE sustainability, we’ve realized that we don’t have to be disempowered while abroad. It takes an extra effort and some creativity to think of how we can be more environmen-tally friendly, but it is worth that extra thought. In doing so, we are taking ownership over our education, and are confident that our contributions will additionally benefit future CIEE students and the longevity of the program long after we leave Thailand.

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FIndIng out how to hElpRachel MattinglyDenison university: Environmental and International Studies; German

we chat after dinner, resting on the bamboo and wooden platform where we ate. The platform’s thatched roof protects us from the sun, but as there’s no electricity, light and the occasional breeze come from where walls might be. The platform sits directly next to the sin-gle dirt road, as do most of the buildings in Baw Kaew Village. we’re surrounded by neat rows of young eucalyptus trees on every side.

when the community’s lawyer arrives with a two-stringed instru-ment, we don’t think much of it. As the instruments multiply, how-ever, the meaning of “cultural exchange,” the ambiguous next item on our schedule, takes shape. The lawyer, ood, and our translator, Ajaan John, take turns on the guitar trying to find American songs our group knows. we rarely make it past the first verse, but we have a great time trying.

Soon the musicians switch to playing Thai music. Villagers begin dancing and we join them, mirroring their steps and hand motions, improvising and combining them with American moves. when it again falls on us to provide the entertainment, we lose all timidity. we yell “I will Survive” into the night sky, our dance illuminated only by a few oil candles and the occasional arrival of a motor-cycle. The villagers laugh and dance with us. They are two, three,

even four times our age, but they celebrate the night as loudly as they must have when they were much younger.

we didn’t come to party; we came for a long series of meetings with villagers, NGos, and their lawyer to discuss potential collabora-tion projects. They don’t own the land we dance on, although many years ago they farmed it or searched its forests for food and firewood. They were evicted when the government declared the area to be a National Forest Reserve – after which it cut down all the trees to plant the fast-growing eucalyptus as a cash crop for the pulp and paper in-dustry. Most villagers were never compensated for the lost land. Last July, some of them came back and established this “protest village” as part of their struggle to get a Community Land Title and abolish the forest project. our group has come to find out how we can help them share their story and pressure the government.

During orientation, we spoke with the archetypal Buddhist wise man, Ajaan Decha, who has worked as an advocate for social jus-tice for decades. when we asked him how we can help, he told us, “Become friends with the people. put their heart in your heart. Then you will know how to help.” After an unforgettable evening under the stars, I think I understand what he meant.

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a plaCE whErE paSSIon IS EnoughSamantha Sencer-Muraoccidental College: Critical Theory and Social Justice; urban and Environmental policy

A few weeks ago while visiting Baw Kaew protest Village, I had the privilege of hearing members of the CERN River Group play lovely Thai melodies. The apparent leader of the group sat in front of myself and other American students, coercing us into singing a pitiful version of the Beatles’ “Imagine”. I enjoyed the man’s tal-ent with the “Saw” (a Thai string instrument played with a bow), and was impressed with his knowledge for Beatles’ songs, but I didn’t think much more of him as I attempted to Thai-dance the night away. I wouldn’t have given this man much more thought had I not, a mere 9 hours later, met with him to discuss the legal future for this village and their fight for a community land title. It turns out the CERN River Group is actually made up of activists and NGos working on the community’s plight. This man, a lawyer named ood, was not only a musician in the CERN River Group, but a non-profit lawyer working on this community’s case. I was amazed at ood’s ability to move from musician, to lawyer and ac-tivist so seamlessly. Throughout my time in the village I started to realize how connected these roles were, how necessary both were to organizing this community. These NGos and others who work for the non-profit sector are in every community we visit. But at first glance, there is nothing separating them from the rest of the village, and that is the beauty. NGo’s in Thailand embody the true spirit of grassroots community organizing; living and working in the villages they advocate for, really getting to bond with the community before they start any kind of organizing or campaigning.

on the night I met the CERN River Group, our student group was supposed to meet with the community to talk about possible projects we could collaborate with them on. Instead, the villagers insisted on dancing with us first, getting to know us before we cre-ated any kind of project together. At first I was nervous, embaressed at my Thai dancing skills, and not sure what this act meant in terms of collaborating with the community. I realize now that time spent dancing was no different than the time spent discussing ideas for possible campaigns we could work on. They are all in a day’s work for an NGo here in Thailand.

Thinking ahead to our return to the uS, myself and fellow stu-dents face constant stress to find the perfect internship; struggling to break into the non-profit sector. we all have the passion for social justice work, but find it surprisingly hard to actually do this work.

paid and unpaid internships are extremely competitive, and there is a pressure to work for the right organizations that will somehow help us secure a job after college. Internships have GpA and other requirements, and some of them boast an acceptance rate as low as 2%. I marvel at the fluidity of the NGo system here in Thailand, it is the way it should be. Breaking into the non-profit sector should only require a passion for the issue, a love and understanding of the community, and maybe, a willingness to dance.

“Walking beside the villagers, NGOs become a part of the community.”-Shadow on the Mun

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SoundS oF SolIdarItyBecky GoncharoffTransylvania university: political Science; philosophy

The sun was just rising behind the traditional Buddhist wat, when the Internet connection finally came through. I couldn’t help but grin when I heard the familiar twang of Eastern Kentucky voices. The skype call between villagers of Na Nong Bong in Northeast Thailand and community organizers of Kentuckians for the Com-monwealth had officially begun. Each community has experienced similar struggles; a gold mine was built in Na Nong Bong 6 years ago, and the consequences of Appalachia coal mining have con-tinued for over a 100 years in Floyd County, KY. Both communi-ties have been organizing around their respective mining issues for years, but now they have decided to make a connection in order to share stories, give support, and exchange strategies.

I found the situation to be pretty surreal. I didn’t realize people in Thailand had even heard of Kentucky when I arrived 3 months ago, and I didn’t expect the two areas to have anything in com-mon. Each community talked about how the mine had made their water unfit for human consumption, destroyed their landscape, and broken old friendships. Ecological degradation, human rights viola-tions, and hope for the future have created a relationship between these mountain communities.

As I listened to the conversation that spanned 3,000 miles, I thought about the power of solidarity. what if people from rural Thailand no longer thought of Hollywood and our other cultural exports when they thought of the united States, and instead thought of friends with a common struggle in the hollers of Appalachia? what if people in Eastern Kentucky realized that they have more in common with people in Isaan (Northeast Thailand) than their policy makers in washington D.C.? There is immense power in making these types of connections across cultural and political boundaries that have otherwise separated us. Hearing each group say, “our problems are the same,” and “we have friends across the world,” sent chills up my spine.

Members of our group often lament that the work we do in Thai-land is much needed in the united States, and that we should be building relationships with communities at home instead of here. when it comes to mining, the struggle is the same. Some students from past semesters in Thailand were there in Kentucky, talking to their former host families in Na Nong Bong via skype. There need not be a separation between struggling for the recognition of human rights and the preservation of livelihoods in Thailand or the united States. It is the same struggle and the more aware we become of this connectedness, the more powerful our movement will be.

protESt at na nong bongApril Morrisuniv. of Colorado at Boulder: psychology, Sociology

After waking up around three in the morning and driving to Na Nong Bong, Loei province to partake in a skype call between Na Nong Bong villagers and a number of mine affected community members in Kentucky, three other students; Becky, Gianna, Barrie, and myself decided to stay the night in Na Nong Bong village.

Na Nong Bong and surrounding villages have been extremely affected by a gold mine that was built right next to their community in 2004. The mine has lead to the ground and surface water that Na Nong Bong villagers drink and use in their everyday lives to cook and bathe, to have high levels of cynanide and arsenic. The water had been tested by Government officials but the results were not released to the villagers, so the villages decided to take their own initiative to obtain those test results by protesting.

Even though the Na Nong Bong and surrounding villages had protested in front of City Hall three times last year, this specific pro-test that I attended was the first one organized this year. Confused and flustered, Becky, Gianna, Barrie and I went with the villagers to the City Hall Governor’s office, where we stood on the sidelines and observed the villagers slowly march towards the entrance of the office. As they marched in unison, Meh Rot, a highly involved community member, demanded that the Governor release the wa-ter test results to the villagers. Her demands were being blasted from a makeshift loudspeaker of several huge speakers hooked up to the back of her husband’s pickup truck.

unfortunately I could understand very little of what was actually being said, but from the sound of their demands and their strong stances, the Na Nong Bong villagers were obviously not leaving the City Hall empty handed. It was extremely inspiring to me to see the frontline of the villagers, who were mostly woman, leading their communities to the steps of the City Hall, never looking back.

After about two hours of being in the extreme heat, the villagers demands were finally heard and the Governor arose from his of-fice and spoke to the villagers. He expressed his worries about the high levels of contamination he obtained from the water test results, promised daily water would be provided to Na Nong Bong and would visit Na Nong Bong the next day to discuss more solutions to the villager’s problems.

The overall experience of watching the entire protest from be-ginning to end was very empowering to me. The fact that the villagers never stepped down and powered through the heat until their demands were met was inspiring to me. I will never forget their faces, hiding their suffering, leading their communities to the entrance of the City Hall.

we’re going fishing, I think. Trouble is, I don’t see any rods or nets in this banana. There’s only my host family, my American roommate, who has deemed himself Sticky Rice, and a lot of water, which they have started to bail out. My Thai skills are slightly more effective than a newborn’s cry, and the people of Tamui – where I currently am – speak a particularly impermeable form of Thai, called Isaan. Yet, I’m still fairly certain that we’re going fishing, all the better if we learn to snag fish from the water with our bare hands... maybe even blindfolded... I hope.

After 10 minutes, we’re crossing into Laotian waters. The 11 year-old girl is pointing to a particular patch of water I can’t figure out how she’s chosen, the father turns off the motor, and the 13 year-old boy oars us carefully to the patch. I notice stones surfacing sneakily and want to yell “iceberg!” but the boy seems to have it under control. He guides us over the stones, where he parks the boat. within moments, the family disappears into the water and I step off to join them when my legs are taken out from under me, because we are smack in the middle of the current. But the water is shallow. I scrape a few rocks and when I get back on my feet, I find my host father with a smirk and a hand stretched out holding our quarry – mussels.

Sticky Rice and I spend the next hour hunting against the cur-rent, one hand tightly gripped to the circular pits that naturally form in the limestone – like we’re mountain-climbing horizontally only with a hyped up gravitational pull – the other hand clawing into the surrounding pits. occasionally, I come up for air and find the bucket of goods mounting in the distance where the boat lies. My hands remain empty, but for the occasional small shell (which don’t have the wow capacity to impart my unprecedented genius at mus-sel scooping, and besides, I need to save hand space for the big treasures that surely lie ahead), or large shells that turn out to be empty. Eventually, I turn in severely out of breath, my head a little woozy, with zero spoils. I poke my head over my host family’s trea-sure bucket and what do I find but a heap of small shells. I sigh and fall back onto the boat with a smile. I had a great time, but I certainly did not go fishing.

Standing atop a five story dam built along the Mekong River, I looked down and watched as water flooded from underneath the open gate. The dam I stood upon was the pak Mun Dam, one that has been considered to be a complete failure. This fish ladder on the side of the dam was empty, a small trickle leading down it from the dam to river. The ladder had been constructed for smaller fish that do not live in the Mekong. Before the dam was constructed fish as large as cows swam freely up the river to spawn. Today these fish are nowhere to be found as the dam has blocked their migration and the fish ladder has failed to offer a way through the wall of con-crete. The dam has also failed to create the amount of hydropower it was constructed to produce. Though a mass reservoir of water has been created by dam, it has been unable to produce even a fraction of the energy that the dam was established to create. In order to create the reservoir, lands near the river were flooded and commu-nities were vacated. Families who had been living off of the river for decades were now displaced and forced to move elsewhere.

The pak Mun Dam is just one of hundreds of dam projects con-structed in Thailand. A symbol of development and progress, dams plague the rivers of Southeast Asia. After the Great Leap Forward in China, 500 dams a year were constructed in order to develop the country rapidly. Following suit, Thailand and other Southeast Asian countries have begun constructing large dam projects in order to meet the energy and irrigation needs of the population. These proj-ects do much more than simply meet the needs of consumers, how-ever. These enormous, concrete, manmade structures have become synonymous with development. Many dams in Thailand are named after the Royal Family and have become symbols of the strength and status of the nation.

As Thailand and many neighboring nations continue to con-struct dams in the name of progress, the necessity to reassess this type of development becomes apparent. Are dams the most effec-tive way of achieving energy and irrigation goals in Thailand? Do the benefits outweigh the costs incurred by local communities and the environment? Does development always have to come at the expense of the environment? Can the Earth sustain every country to develop in this manner?

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damS and dEvElopmEntKayla Nolanoccidental College: Diplomacy and world Affairs

lazy road rIvErCyril Bennounauniversity of Michigan: Cognitive Science

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ConnECtIonS to watErCaitlin Gossoccidental College: urban and Environmental policy

I must have been some sort of sea creature in a past life. I could swim before I could walk properly, and as I grew up, I increasingly refused to get out of the water when it was time for our family to pack up our beach accoutrements and head home. I think it was because I innately felt that I was already home, in the water, mov-ing fluidly with the power of the salty waves. I was intrigued by the creatures I would find in the tide pools and thought it a compliment when my mom told me I was a fish because I never willingly got out of the water.

when I hit my teenage years, when the importance of tanning on the sand overtook the need for pretending to be mermaids, I refused to be kept out of the water. I was the first one running into the waves calling my reluctant friends into the water. with each crashing crest I was enveloped with a cooling reassurance. I felt safe in the water, but I also maintained a reverence for its power and capacity to house some of the most biodiverse ecosystems in the world.

As I grew up, I began to learn more about the interactions be-tween nature and humans and became increasingly interested in the ocean and related bodies of water. Issues surrounding the ocean’s exploitation have continued to ignite an angry fire in me, almost more so than other environmental issues. The ocean holds the world’s smallest, largest, strangest, unbeknownst creatures, some of which have had the least evolutionary changes throughout the course of the earth’s evolution. This is one aspect that has given

me an overwhelming respect for the water systems on Earth. From what I have learned, if the earth started as a huge stew of water and organisms, then water is truly the essence of life and is essentially where we, as humans, originated.

The word for river or ocean in Thai is mae nam, which literally translates into “mother water”. For me, this name encompasses the power of water and the respect it deserves. Bodies of water through-out the world are all a part of one another in respect to how they flow into one another; each separate lake, river, ocean are really one huge entity that creates and nurtures life for every organism, including humans.

when I first jumped into the majestic Mekong River adjacent to Tamui village, I felt relief and comfort. Although I was thousands of miles away from my family’s home, I felt reassured in the water that I knew flowed into the same ocean I have grown up swimming in. A drop from this water will be carried off to where I used to swim, bring-ing with it a piece of myself. I was instantly connected to the animals and ecosystems within the river. Although I was halfway across the world, I felt at home, I felt safe, and I was overcome with happiness.

I have a special bond with water and being in another country with a community so connected to their own river solidified my own connection. The ocean and its tributaries will always be, for me, another mother, and I will continue to call her “mae nam” and I will protect her while she continues to give me life.

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lIvIng In thE momEntIlse pukinskis Bowdoin College: Environmental Science, Government

I’m standing on top of the hill looking out at one of those land-scapes whose beauty will forever be perfectly preserved in my mind. The scene below looks like something out of one of the National Geographic magazines that used to clutter my grandmother’s spare bedroom. Below my feet, a steep hill dappled with banana trees and cotton plants leads to rolling sand dunes covered in sun-beaten grasses and then an immense field of beautifully weathered and perfectly placed giant river rocks. In the final moments of daylight, I gaze at the placid water filled with giddy children, bathing mothers, rows of longboats and fishermen returning with their final catches of the day. Just a few steps behind me, my host mother is grill-ing fish and shaving green papaya in the spare but fully functional kitchen beneath her house built on stilts. I am in Tamui Village, on the shores of the infamous Mekong River, looking out at Laos. It is one of the most beautiful places I will ever have the privilege of seeing and all I am thinking about is dams.

Tamui Village lies immediately below the site of a proposed dam, to be built by the Italian-Thai Development public Company. Italian-Thai is currently talking with the Thai and Lao governments to secure permission to build a 22-gate dam and is securing sig-natures from villagers at the cost of a 5 million baht ($154,000 uSD) per household. The construction of this dam will completely destroy these villagers’ way of life as the river will dry up for the majority of the year and the fishery that has sustained generations of families for centuries will inevitably collapse. The proposed dam downstream of Tamui will be the final nail in the coffin when it

completely submerges this community that already lives precari-ously close to the unpredictable Mekong. The impacts will be dev-astating to these villages and the environment. These two dams are only a tiny piece of Southeast Asia’s plan to dam the Mekong River. All this beauty, completely gone.

Looking out at the river, my mind and heart turned with informa-tion and emotion. I began to question my own reasons for fiercely disliking a company and dam I knew very little about. The environ-mentalist in me was horrified by the idea of the Mekong River (the Mekong!) being completely altered by a few concrete walls. The romantic in me grieved the loss of this beautiful, traditional way of life. I felt sincere empathy for the people in the village who were still vehemently opposing the construction of this dam, even in the face of huge bribes. we talk a lot about sympathy versus empathy on this program. Being able to empathize with the people we meet is one step in being able to help their cause. Yet, at that moment I was acutely aware of the danger of letting my heart decide what was right and what was wrong. I saw the other side of the picture. I saw what 5 million baht could provide these families. I saw the potential for massive amount of renewable and carbon-neutral hy-droelectricity and I saw irrigated paddies in place of the scorched fields that seem to spread as far as the eye can see. Development is never black and white. My experiences here have left me frustrated and confused but more excited than ever to understand that gray zone. And a very big part of me hopes that gray has a space for the Mekong River, just as I saw it in that radiant sunset.

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no ConCluSIonSAmy N. SaekowMiddlebury College: International Studies

After dinner, my home stay mother, Mae Tanom cuts some fresh pa-paya and hands me a piece. I sink my teeth into its soft orange flesh and think of how I never tasted a better papaya in my life.

Mae tells me,

“This is all natural, no chemicals. It’s from my friend’s home.”

She told me how if she didn’t have something to eat she would ask her neighbor. “I buy my food.” when did we shift from creating to purchasing?

I see little ants running into their cubicles, not understanding the small tasks they do in a much larger world. My mind turns back to macrotheory, and professor Matthews says, “Comparative advan-tage is the ability of an individual to produce a particular good or service at a lower opportunity cost than someone else.”

Now I would sit Mae Tanom and professor Matthews down to dis-cuss comparative advantage. Maybe professor Matthews would draw some graphs, explain efficiency and opportunity cost and how it’s better for a well-organized world. Maybe Mae Tanom would cut him some papaya and mango and show him the pillow cases she weaved and the cotton she stuffed them with and tell him that comparative advantage doesn’t matter to her life. But I am just creating

...fiction.

I secretly want to protect this village, write a nice story about them and put it on my bookshelf, lending it to no one else’s eyes and ears. I want to take their TVs away, rewind to a couple years past and cushion their worries. Lastly, I want to trample on the dam that is to be built.

I have a tendency, though, to control. The hydropower dam, as we were told, is perhaps a pseudonym for development, globalization, progress, a greater good? william Yeats wrote, “Turning and turning in the widening gyre / The falcon cannot hear the falconer / Things fall apart, the center cannot hold.”

My host father leaves me on a large rock formation and tells me to wait. As his boat drives away, waves form behind him; they become larger and larger, until they settle and fade.

lEarnIng outSIdE oF thE CurrICulumGianna Fazioliuniversity of Michigan: Environmental Science

upon finishing the fourth unit of this program, I am very proud of how much Thai language each of us has learned and applied each week. However, I continue to find myself at a loss of words on our home stays.

This home stay was quite different. My home stay father, paw Toon, and I were once again trying to communicate. we were sit-ting at the table with my Thai book and dictionary. Most of our conversation revolved around their new born, seven day-old baby who was lying peacefully next to us. Then we got to a part of the conversation where we couldn’t quite communicate. He got out a piece paper and pen and wrote out a sentence, then proceeded to speak out each word. I finally understood then that he was asking about the birthing process in the united States. I told him that some people go to the hospital and some have midwives come to their homes. He said that his wife had given birth at home. I figured that is where those intravenous bags in the backyard came from.

upon struggling through this conversation, two elderly villagers with nicely shaded grey hair came up to our house. paw jumped up immediately and returned with a pile of medical supplies. Then, he positioned the older woman and man so that they were both com-fortable. He then pulled out a rubber band, two hypodermic nee-dles and cleaning supplies. He tied the rubber band on the man’s forearm. He wiped it thoroughly with rubbing alcohol and then administered a shot of medicine to the man. He repeated this pro-cess for the woman. Chuckling briefly in my direction as I watched intently, my paw continued to speak normally amongst his friends. The couple left and I said to my home stay dad, “where did you learn to administer medicine like that?” He motioned to my book and said that he studied through reading.

It was incredible for me to see a man who is as diligent and skillful as a fisherman, characterize one of the missions of this program. we are taught in the classroom and through group work how to guide our learning. My paw exemplifies taking ownership of his education and I aspire to do the same by learning from every moment I have left here.

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on gIvIngAlthea SmithGeorgetown university: Science, Technology and International Affairs

During our recent stay in Tamui Village, I shared a homestay fam-ily with Esther and Les-lie. Like all great guest-daughters, we made an accidental mess of our clothes and effects in our shared upstairs room, always remembered to tell our family when we were going to go play in the water (usually about 5 minutes after we returned from our last such expedition), got our

offers to help rejected at every mealtime, and woke up late. This last habit became a point of contention, because at 6:30 in the morn-ing several monks walked by serenely on the road for the quotidian ritual of tambun (giving for merit). our 28 year-old p’saow (older sister) informed us when we arrived that we would take part in this tambun, but try as we might, a mixture of sleepiness and the elusive phenomenon of Thai time kept us from being present. This became a running joke in our family, as we made a habit of rushing down the stairs bleary-eyed only to be informed by our amused hosts that we had just missed it.

previous failure only increased our conviction, however; if it was important to our family, tambun was on the agenda come hell or high water. on the final morning of our stay, we were downstairs at 6:10 AM in various states of dishevelment, ready for anything. As the moment of truth approached, we helped our p’saow arrange four identical plates of monk rations: blobs of sticky rice complete with a packaged chocolate snack. while our p’saow scouted ahead to get a sense of their numbers, we perfected the plates, finishing just in time to rush to the roadside, drop to our knees in the grav-el, and hold the plate rims to our foreheads with decisive resolve. After a brief frenzy of placing snacks in each monk’s metal bowl, the long-planned ritual was over. our knees were in pain, but our hearts were light with happiness and merit.

Minutes later, an entire bus full of monks rolled up to the village center, and Leslie and I, in our nascent tambun fervor, chased our sister down the road to join the line of villagers waiting to give. She gave more sticky rice and we took turns giving the chocolate snacks until we ran out. we felt bad about giving away all of the

thE FEw, thE proud, thE unIt FaCIlItatorS Abe LevineMacalester College: Religious Studies

unit facilitator: what does this term mean? I deeply wondered as I was assigned the role. our program is divided into five units, each unit devoted to a development issue such as dams or agriculture, and each requiring unit facilitators to plan activities. This past week, I embarked on the experience of facilitation that challenged me to my core, and I am now a better, more complete man because of it.

I began my assignment by looking up the word facilitator. As it turns out, it refers to “a person or a thing that facilitates.” Though this research was highly valuable, CIEE prides itself on experiential learn-ing, so I put down the dictionary and began facilitating. I quickly learned that facilitation requires a lot of goal setting – as ambitious people, there are many values to be cultivated, information to be amassed, and skills to be honed. Sitting with a group of five wise and poignant women, I was very intimidated; thus, one of the first goals we drafted was to help me feel like one of the girls. whether travel-ing through the towering mountains of the Mekong River or sitting in fluorescent lit room until 4am, we were a sisterhood.

But this role is not about being lovey-dovey; it’s more like being part of the president’s secret service team. Just as you have to know where the eagle’s location is at all times, you must always be keenly aware of where the group is at – where the group is emotionally, who we are meeting with at 2:15, what his agenda is, and how he takes his instant coffee; everything must be planned to a tee. You must never show fear – the group smells it and will pounce on you in an evaluation process called +/-/delta as soon as you begin to sweat.

This role is not for the weak or weary. At times it makes you want to curl into a small ball and cry, at others you feel like a million bucks, capable of facilitating the heck out of any situation thrown at you – from managing a boardroom meeting to helping a lost child in a grocery store find his mother. At any rate, for what it’s worth I am proud to have served with a group of the calmest and collected ladies this side of Bangkok.

chocolate though, since she had told us chocolate snacks were her favorite and she was pregnant. Immediately following our second tambun experience, we made one last trip to the town’s local gro-cery and beer joint. Right before we left the village, after photos had been taken and kitungs (verb: to miss) exchanged, we three guest-daughters each handed her a chocolate snack we had pur-chased, in recognition of her unfailing generosity, her unborn child, her sense of humor, and our sincere appreciation. we may have gotten a late start, but I think we are really getting the hang of this tambun thing.

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aprIl Fool’S hItS thaIlandLiam Dixonoccidental College: urban and Environmental policy

“Another hot day in Thailand,” I say out loud to nobody in partic-ular. I re-enter my host family’s house and strategically place myself in front of the fan, hoping that it might wick some of the sweat off of me. I think about getting up and doing something, but then my eyes close and I fall asleep.

The high-pitched spitting sounds of my host dad’s motorcycle engine wake me. Before I get up, he has made his way through the front door. He approaches me with purpose, a concerned look on his face. Something’s not quite right. I move to stand. Before I am fully up right, my host dad is in front of me. His Thai comes at me faster than usual, and I struggle to comprehend the sentences. I hear him say over and over “tong sia” and “ahb naam.” The second one I get. Ahb naam means to take a shower, but tong sia… I search my brain. Nothing.

Throughout the day my host dad keeps asking me about “tong sia,” especially before we eat dinner. I know that “tong” means stom-ach, so I don’t find it too strange. I brush the phrase aside thinking that he is just making sure that I don’t have any stomach issues.

That night I meet up with some of my CIEE friends. we exchange stories about our home stays, strange foods, the heat, and some other stuff. After a while my dear friend, Maggie McLagan asks me if my host dad has mentioned anything about “tong sia.” “Yes!” I exclaim with relief hoping that other students had experienced the same thing. while explaining my story I notice Maggie and others holding back their laughter. My brow furrows, suspecting some-thing might be up. when I finish regaling the peculiarities of my afternoon, Maggie smirks at first and then bursts out laughing.

As it turns out, Maggie and a couple others pulled my host dad aside earlier that afternoon. They told him that I was feeling ill and that I had come down with a serious case of diarrhea – a.k.a. “tong sia.”

Now, fully understanding the story, I could not help but laugh. I had been the brunt of a cruel April Fool’s Day joke, and you can bet that the fun did not stop on April Fool’s. I tried over and over to explain to my host dad that the whole “tong sia” thing was just a big joke. unfortunately, however, I acted too late. By the time I had straightened business out with my host dad, the story had spread to my host sister, brother, and mother. And by the time I had straight-ened business out with my host sister, brother, and mother, the story had spread to my host aunt, uncle and cousin. when our CIEE vans pulled out of the community a couple days later I feel fairly certain that I was the talk of the town. Everywhere I went, I was asked about my unfortunate situation and whether I wanted to take a shower or not. Needless to say, I don’t imagine that I will ever forget the words “ahb naam” or “tong sia.”

rong-pa-ya-baan (hoSpItal)Ben Hudgens Claremont McKenna College: Economics

Since arriving in Thailand, my trips to the hospital have been my most vacation-like experiences; you have no homework to do, no exchanges with communities to plan, ample room service, cable TV, and a bed that motors slowly into an upright position. whether you go because of food poisoning, a mild case of bronchitis, serious dehydration or just to get out of the landfill, you are guaranteed to have an interesting, albeit confusing, experience.

My first visit was for a cough I could not shake off and included having metal instruments stuck down my throat (still hot from the open-flame sanitation), a camera shoved up my nose (surprisingly pink up there) and a prescription for a large quantity of antibiotics and small red pills (wikipedia later revealed these to be codeine tablets). Despite moments of complete confusion about where I was going, what they were doing to me and whether I was actually sick or not, I would call the trip a lackadaisical adventure.

My second trip was a little more stressful. At around 10 pM dur-ing my landfill home stay, I awoke confused, nauseous and gen-erally not feeling well. There was a brief internal debate between sleeping more or muscling through the sickness in order to go out and scavenge the trash heaps at night with my home stay family; unfortunately, my stomach decided for me and after abandoning dinner I called the teachers and made my way to the hospital again. My bed was comfortable, the nurses were nice and for the first time in a couple months I had nothing to do. Tennis and bad movies kept my spirits up and after two recovery nights I was able to return, chagrined, to my host family.

over the course of the second unit, nine students made the same trip as I did. Some went due to equally frivolous dietary discomforts and others because of foolish choices about raw meat salad found in the landfill. Although we all had different experiences—sponge baths, massages, email address exchanges—we were all amused, if not impressed, by the experience. In a semester that does not ever stop moving, getting sick is a great outlet to kick back and forget about the world’s troubles for a couple days.

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FarangSBen SmithIndiana university: English

whenever I’m in a village and I walk to the nearest shop for coffee, something strange occurs. without fail, I am met along the way with the amused voices of children and villagers calling from the side of the road.

“Farang! Farang!” they shout cheerily. Farang is the Thai word for westerner. This experience, for many

of us, can be very disconcerting. Ideally, we want to immerse our-selves in the culture seamlessly, so that our presence among a crowd of Thais is hardly noticed. we want a candid glimpse of the country. we want to ogle our surroundings in peace.

But among Thais, blending in is nearly impossible for farang. And westerners are actually viewed, surprisingly, with a sort of rev-erence here. According to Dr. Buapan, a professor at Khon Kaen university, farang are ranked nearly equal to royalty on the Thai social hierarchy. That is saying a lot considering the love that Thais have for their King – in most rooms of a Thai home, the decorative centerpiece is likely to be a large portrait of His Majesty.

our social position here is a reality that makes many students uncomfortable, and it affects each of us differently. This is a country where every convenience store is stocked with a shelf-wide supply of skin-whitening cream. If you have fairer, undoubtedly burnt skin, you attract an especially large crowd. play a pick-up game of soccer in an empty lot with some city kids, and you’ll find that the whole neighborhood has gathered around to watch the farang.

Though unsettling, this has some interesting implications. A couple of weeks ago, members of one of the communities we vis-ited, Na Nong Bong, went to their provincial government building to protest a nearby gold mine that is contaminating their drinking water with dangerous levels of cyanide. A group of CIEE students were present, and the governor responded to the protest by prom-ising the villagers clean water. The following week, he visited the village and fulfilled his promise while some of us were staying with families there.

I was in Na Nong Bong during the governor’s visit, and I spoke with p’Kovit, a local adovate for an NGo and one of our teachers,

about the outcome of the protest. He believed it would have been different if the farang hadn’t been present. “The government doesn’t listen to the villagers. They don’t pay any attention to them,” he said. “But when villagers have the support of farang, it puts a lot of pressure on the government.” He continued, pointing towards a basin of contaminated water. “The situation here is very dangerous. I think sometimes farang are afraid. But when a farang is in danger, everyone here is going to know about it. Everyone pays attention to the farang. If a farang stayed here, the government would have to do something.”

A political system that values the presence of an outsider over the voice of its own people is certainly not just, especially considering the values I’ve been taught to appreciate. The thought of other people respecting me for something as superficial as my place of birth or my appearance is troubling to my American mind. I’ve been brought up in a place where human worth is determined according to com-petence, how hard a person works and how smart they are. To be regarded highly for anything other than that would hurt my pride.

But the difference between Thai values and those of Americans allows for some unique opportunities for westerners in Thailand. It means that just my presence is, at times, enough to really initiate a positive change in my surroundings. It means that if I place myself in certain environments where people are suffering and no one is paying attention, somebody might start listening. A lot of us are struggling with this concept. By visiting these villages and attending these protests, are we perpetuating the system that leaves these vil-lagers without a voice?

My lack of participation, though, isn’t going to cause the system to change. If my presence as a pale westerner might bring attention to the injustices occurring in a particular location, then I’m a little more comfortable with the idea of being next to royalty in the social ladder. I wouldn’t have that opportunity in a place where people are less receptive to Americans, and understandably so. After all, to a large extent we’re responsible for many of the world’s injustices anyways.

21

FlowJenna MendellGeorge washington university: Business Adminsitration

Currently I am watching Flow, a documentary about the world water crisis. I am confronted, for the third time this semester, by a massive issue our world is facing.

About six weeks ago, it was the food crisis, a few weeks later, it was trash, and now, it is water. we lived on a farm in order to learn about the Green Revolution and organic farming, but I left with the harsh realities of seed control, mass consumption, and contract farming. we sorted through trash in a landfill in order to understand the realities of urbanization, but what I also discovered is that America’s biggest export is trash and we are rapidly running out of space to put it. we lived in pre- and post- dam communities to determine how a dam effects the surrounding environment and people; now I am being faced with the privatization of water, hav-ing to pay for something that we literally cannot live without.

whatever gave me the impression that I was coming on a pro-gram to learn about development in Thailand was wrong, because

it is actually impossible to do so. The issues do not make sense if you just look at Thailand. Even if you try to focus on a local issue, in the constant struggle for answers, the web gets bigger, the com-panies get more powerful, and the governments make more money. Somewhere in that search, the truth gets lost.

I now do not eat meat unless I know where it comes from. I say “mai sai tung” to tell the fruit guy not to put my mango in a plastic bag, but in my hand. I turn my faucet off when I brush my teeth and reuse my water bottles. But do these things matter? It is hard not to feel hopeless and even harder to convince myself that these little steps can contribute to countering issues that just get bigger the more I learn about them.

Back to the movie – a Gandhi organizer said, “The 21st century will be the century of common people.” If we realize that even though these issues are big, they are also what connects us all and what could potentially bring us together as common people.