HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND A MONK HAS DIED.

      Issan and rural Thailand always has something new to amaze me.
It was the wife's birthday recently, as the rubber tree dormant time was nearing and the flow of money would stop, we could not afford anything grand. Said to the wife, we could go to a resort on the Mun or Mekong river for the night, have a nice dinner and relax by the pool, for you birthday.
No she says, a Monk has died in a nearby village and I would rather go there. Seemed a strange way to celebrate your birthday, but it was her birthday, up to her.


      Next day, I thinking that this would be a kneeling and blessing job at the Wat { Buddha temple } get my kneeling pillow, told you won't need that, just get the big blue ice box in the car.
We pack the kids and mother in-law into the car and set off. Ask where am I going, she says to town { Bunthark } 27 km later we arrive at our nearest town and park in front of a bulk supply shop. Wife and mother in-law start buying, not snacks, but boxes of chips, biscuits, all manner of sweets, small bottles of water and drinks. The ice box was filled with ice, the car a 7 seat SUV is so full of junk foods and drinks we could hardy get the kids and mother in-law in.


      We set off to this nearby village, which is not nearby, tarmac road turns to concrete, then to dirt track, as we head off into the hinterlands and we arrive at a small village with a Wat just outside.


      Now our village is at the edge of the badlands, no police to speak of, border soldier country. Soldiers go armed when on patrol, first thing I notice here border soldiers carrying sidearms and not on patrol, we are in bandit country.


      At the Wat we are escorted to an area with lots of long tables, people are giving out free noodles, ice drinks etc to the crowd. There is a stage set up, blaring music and scantily clad dancing girls. Not what I had expected a funeral for a Buddha monk would be, it was a full on party.
We unloaded the junk food and drinks on to our table, the name of our village was written on a piece of paper and stapled to the table. A crowd gathered round, as we opened the boxes of goodies. At some unseen signal they pounced, grabbing arm fulls of food and drink, with in minutes 4,000 Bahts worth of food and drink had gone. Wife and mother in-law were smiling ear to ear, I on the other hand, stood stunned. Say to the wife, what the hell was that all about, she explains our village has out done all the other villages, we can go home now.


      Monks get burnt at night, people in the day, when the party was over and night fell, the crowds would go. Leaders, village heads and respected elders would attend the Wat, for a night of meditation, candle and monk burning.


      Just attended another one yesterday, much smaller affair and not for the death of a monk, but the blessing of a new building and a mass car blessing.