Saturdays we often head out for breakfast (who am I kidding, we eat out every meal). Yesterday Amnat came home from our favorite breakfast place on Ratvithi Road ahead of Jimmy and me. He had a massage to give, and we had a favorite coffee shop to visit. Over coffee, Jimmy grew a little anxious to get home and nap, so we poured my big latte into a to-go cup and headed for the sidewalk sooner than I might have hoped. The birdcage across the way caught my eye, so we headed for it. Coordinating camera, latte, and carriage, I got my shot. The whole process, about one minute.
In the next block, we were approaching the noodle shop, a place I've been meaning to tell you about (just waiting to get a better photo), and this is exactly what I saw.
Men yelling and confusion. A man ran out of the noodle shop in front of me. His left hand was wrapped in a tan jacket. He ran into the street and yelled at a passing red truck taxi to stop. He got the people out and jumped in. Another man ran up to the truck taxi, stopped it again, and jumped in. Then a lot of men on the sidewalk. Walkie-talkies and head sets. They moved up the street ahead of me. We walked ahead a bit. There was blood on the sidewalk. Not a lot. We stopped in front of the mango stand. I couldn't understand anything anyone was saying and didn't know what to do. I just wanted to get off the street, but there was no place to go.
From the mango stand, I could see men gathered around a point on the sidewalk ahead of us. The ambulance came (and believe me, you never want to find yourself in one of these). I saw the face of one of the (very young) ambulance drivers as he shifted weight into the back of it, and it sped off. By this point, you didn't need to speak Thai to know that someone had been shot. The mango seller's wife was standing next to me. I asked her in Thai, "What's happening." I didn't understand the answer, but she made the universal sign for shooting gun.
People were all around and seemed unaware that something was happening. Students were coming and going from the school across the street. Traffic kept moving. I even remember that people were still eating their noodles while the guy was jumping into the truck taxi.
I hurried to the opposite side and past the spot where the ambulance stopped. There was more than blood on the sidwalk, and I could see that these were cops in street clothes. Lots of them. Emotionless. I got about a half block between it and us and started to cry. I thought about that birdcage and where I and my seven-month-old baby would have been if I hadn't stopped for it.
We've been back down Ratvithi Road since yesterday and the mango seller told Amnat what he knew. Two men were walking to the noodle shop from the university at a nearby temple, where they were taking classes. A man came out of the construction site as they walked past, shot one of them in the back and twice in the head, then jumped into a waiting red car. The second man (a cop) was shot in the hand. He ran to the noodle shop for help then commandeered the truck taxi to chase the red car. The man who was shot died on the sidewalk in a place we walk (and take photos) every day. He died under this ridiculous sign.
This morning we were awakened at 7:15 by loudspeaker music coming from the parking lot of the city offices (and ambulance station) across the street. After a round of Thai pop music (which I cannot explain), monks began chanting. It was a merit making ceremony for the man who died. Feeling some connection to this person whom I never saw, I went over to the edge of the parking lot. I don't know why, but the ambulance guys have a big Chinese shrine, and it was the center of this ceremony. The ancestor papers had just been burned in the red bin and prayers were being offered. As I left, I noticed people coming up the sidewalk, each little family group carrying an envelope. One hundred baht (about $2.50) to be offered to the family to help pay for the lunch, the tent rental, and the loud speaker rental. All traditionally Thai.
Apart from the horror of what happened, something in the reactions of people to it troubles me immensely. The first person I saw when I got home was Nok. I told her what happened. I got teary and felt shakey. She laughed. The second person I told was Amnat. After listening to my laborious explanation, he said, "Did Jimmy have lunch yet?" I told our friend Jo that afternoon. He had heard about it already. When he heard how close we were to it, he laughed. When the mango seller told Amnat that he grabbed his wife and ducked behind the bins of fruit when he heard gunfire, he laughed. The two old guys who were gossiping about it with him laughed when Amnat told them Jimmy and I were there too. There weren't even any tears at the funeral ceremony. I have seen this before. Thai people, if they react (publicly) at all to something highly charged with emotion, laugh. They place tremendous value on keeping "jai yen" or a cool heart. Sometimes I wish they'd just show what they feel, instead of bottling it up until in explodes.
1 comment:
Since posting, I've learned a little more about what happened that day. The man who was shot was ladden with troubles, and the police see many reasons that someone wanted him dead. He had gambling debts (HUGE mob here), he had "many wives," he had local political squabbles from a minor office he held in his village, and he was a "construction manager" for a big road building company. It doesn't make me feel much better to know that people settle their scores with guns in broad daylight with so many people around.
Thanks for worrying about us, but we are all fine.
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