Reflections by Cheah Wui Jia

Written by: Cheah Wui Jia.

Sometimes it seems like heaven is a place on earth.

At the mosque we were visiting, I saw the young girls clad in tudung, running around joyfully, as if there were no such thing as pain in life.

And I took it all in, smiling. It seemed… so pure. I smiled at a young child and she smiled back at me, before running somewhere to hide behind a door. I thought my heart would burst. Dramatic, I know, but me, being the sentimental freak that I am, just cannot help myself. While they scuttled around like little mice playing hide and seek, I understood what purity may possibly mean. Trust. Devoid of fearfulness or presumption. Children love with an innocence that no adult can ever understand. They don’t see the colour of your skin. Or your body shape. Or whether you are doing drugs, or sex work. They just love you if you give them candy. Or make them laugh.

It makes sense. Loving the human being. Imperfect in many ways but, nonetheless, human in every way.

The people that I have met are pure at heart. Strangers I come across in Chiang Mai clasp their hands and say “Sawadika,” with a humility that the world needs most in a contemporary age of despair and disappointment. Institutions of authority have failed us in one way or another. Corrupt organizations, themselves comprising fallen human beings, have swindled away hopes and lives like conscience never existed. We live in a period when truth seems elusive, when motives are incessantly questioned, when ideals evaporate to leave an arid desert where dreams are nothing but mere shiny mirage, when a flurry of ideology seems destined to implode under a heavy weight of contradiction.

But out of brokenness and sorrow comes forth a faith that can be purer than gold. Faith is that transcendental signified that we so desperately need, in a world full of flickering simulacra and empty signifiers. Faith is that wall that came crashing down when a crowd that shrieked for joy climbed over its remnants from the East into the West of Germany. Faith is when a woman, shackled under house arrest for 14 years, still possesses a heart that drums to the beats of freedom, because she loves her country too much to sing mournful desert songs. Faith is when we relentlessly decline to have our hope dictated by the shifting conditions of surrounding circumstances that may seem hopelessly negative.

We can choose to turn cynical and hard hearted, deriving certainty from a postmodern form of numbing depression. We can choose to casually shrug, or complain out of bitter resentment and throw our hands up in the air. Nothing is going to work. So why try?

Or we can choose to make a difference, rise to the occasion and believe that we can change things. That we can love, and make purity possible.

The NGOs I have visited demonstrate signs of an unfaltering faith. Caring for refugees who flee from tyranny and oppression, for sex workers who suffer from stigma, for AIDS victims whose lives are dwindling a little each day. In other words, people who have dedicated their lives towards caring for other people who may have to keep looking over their shoulders with a gaze so furtive, clutched by a fear so paralyzing it makes it difficult to breathe easily.

I wish I could describe to you, in words, my study trip at Chiang Mai. But I can’t. This doesn’t stem from a sheer laziness to type out this diary entry, or from the belief in a Lacanian theory that language is hopelessly unreliable. Words just cannot do justice to the study trip. I wish I could taken you by the hand, to urge you to walk with me and absorb the sights, sounds, tastes, feelings that so profoundly, in the words of another diary entry, assailed me, at every phase of the trip. I can only offer you snippets that I hope, paint a picture of Chiang Mai and the people that I encountered.

I will be unapologetically honest now. There were times when I questioned what faith and love really mean. In many ways, my Christian faith was violently at odds with the lifestyle of the homosexual or the sex worker. I knew I had no right to judge anyone either. Smoking, drinking, cursing, and cracking jokes (that made me blush or gulp), were what some of my friends did on a regular basis. Habits like these were something I had to accept, and attempt to overlook. Constantly surrounded by church members, I had been accustomed to the habits of the devout Christian which clearly excluded behavior deemed as worldly or ungodly. But I knew I had to suspend my judgmental tendencies, and accept differences in doctrine (Christianity versus Social Science) that threatened to mar the entire Chiang Mai experience for me. I had to learn to love, over and over again. To unclench my tightly clutched fist, over and over again. I prayed at night, asking God to help me understand and love people better. 

At the ice breakers exercise that kicked off the GABFAI session, I fully understood the entire painful exercise of trying to keep my clenched fists closed (while an annoying opponent tried to pry it open). When Ann asked how clenching one’s fists felt, some of my friends automatically replied “It felt powerful, like I was in control”. For me, before the exercise was over, I already knew its aim deep down in my heart. It is safe to feel as if one is in control. Safe to know that the world is clearly mapped out and highly predictable. But that is not the real world.

I understood what Dr Yeoh meant when he urged us to leave our comfort circle of friends and attempt to spend time with acquaintances beyond our familiar cliques (or “factions”). Judgment barely begins with people on the fringes of society like the prostitute, or the hardcore drug addict, or the homeless refugee. It begins with the people we come into contact with in our daily lives. People whose lives are ordinary, just like ours. If we cannot overcome miniscule differences by loving one another unconditionally, we cannot expect to bridge the larger gaps that divide the centre from the periphery in society.

For the record, the adjective “lame” hardly means Lochna’s sprained ankle. I truly enjoyed the company I had. I felt honoured being there among them.

Stillness of Faith

Written By: Wui Jia

Stillness is the day that takes its first breath.

That is, before one is greeted by the sound of shuffling footsteps.

A monk clad in orange robes walks down the path, hands clutching a metal bowl. Like clockwork, two women, a graying elderly lady and a middle aged lady, coincidentally appear at the gateway of a coffeehouse, holding food packets for almsgiving. The monk stops at the coffeehouse, and both women gingerly place the food offering into the metal bowl he has been holding. Then, dropping to their knees, the women bow and clasp their hands in an attitude of prayer. The monk chants, his voice undulating like incoming waves that hit the shore with the grace of flowing silk. Hypnotic.

Juree receiving blessings from a young monk

As the sleepy morning stirs in its early hours, the road gently bustles with a flurry of activity. Food stalls erected along the road display a vast array of instant noodle packets, bananas, cooked rice, chap choy styled vegetables, and dok bua or lotus flowers. Itinerant sellers of birds that flop in baskets and eels that slither in plastic bags of water walk up to passersby, offering live goods that wait to be liberated into their natural habitats. Monks solemnly walk past the food stalls, occasionally stopping to receive offering from customers who have just made their purchases from the stalls. On bended knees, devotees close their eyes in meditated bliss, allowing waves of blessing pronounced by chanting monks to wash over them.

Lotus flowers as offerings to Buddha

“By giving the monk the offering, you are telling your dead mother or father, ‘Here is some food for you in heaven’,” says Juree (one of our student guide’s) describing the symbolism of almsgiving. Upon the bestowing of alms to monks, the devotee holds dead relatives in memory, worshipping family that has passed on via the ritual of food offering. Unlike conventional Western practices of mourning, the deceased are consistently acknowledged in public enactments of rituals and practices.

Phra Kru Srivichai, one of the most venerated monks in Chiang Mai who had contributed widely to the community, passed away in the year 1938. Yet, today, pilgrims burn incense with an uncanny devotion as they visit his shrine at seven in the morning, gracing his golden statue with fresh garlands of flowers. While his embalmed body remains seated in a posture of meditated serenity in Wat Phra Singh, followers pay homage to his golden form at the foot of Doi Suthep (the word doi means mountain in Thai). Phra Kru Srivichai was known for his noble, selfless character; he reportedly helped the poor and the sick, refusing to accept gifts and offering them to the needy instead. He defied authorities of his time by ordaining monks without obtaining official permission. He also built schools, hospitals and roads. One of his most famous projects was the building of a road up the Doi Suthep, leading to a temple that contains the relics of Buddha.

Passers by stopping to do prayers

While other devotees gravitate towards the magnetic golden figure, offering food and joss sticks at the altar before kneeling down in reverent awe to petition their personal desires, monks collect alms from devotees along the road of Suthep. A jogger, glistening in sweat, unhesitantly halts his run upon seeing one of the monks. He makes a purchase of food offering and places the offering into the metallic bowl. After kneeling down to receive a pronouncement of blessing, the jogger casually resumes his run, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Such is the fluidity in which the practice of charity is woven into the lives of believers.

Monks lining up to receive donations

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less travelled by, and that has made all the difference.” Robert Frost’s poem is commonly taken to imply non-conformism. People like Phra Kru Srivichai probably identify with the road not taken. Corporations jostle one another unabashedly, vying for the greedy eyes of the consumer looking at the world through the candy flavoured prism of materialistic success. We grow emptier as we attempt to fulfill our own worldly desires, resulting in an outbreak of depression and other diseases of the soul. Perhaps life would be more meaningful if we offered to fill the bowls of other lives instead of attempting to fill the bottomless ones that so profoundly characterize our dissatisfied existence.

Following the Dharma

Written By: Cheah Wui Jia

As the prayers of people rise upwards like the burnt incense that drift towards heaven, the people of Chiang Mai seem to yearn for a better tomorrow, for the possibility of miracles and abundant blessing. While worshippers bend down in reverence, meditating on an unseen eternity, the past is equally cherished.

The reflected celebration of the past is vibrantly displayed through gold and carved stone of the various temples that litter the busy city, but also in remembrance of such myths like the of the fate of an incredibly handsome monk by the name of Sangkachai, who could not reciprocate the love of a boy who was infatuated with him; the monk, feeling heavily guilty, prayed desperately that he could diminish in physical allure, upon discovering the disastrous effect of infatuation and good looks.

His prayers were answered; Sangkachai turned obese and remained so for the rest of his life.

The plump-figured Buddha statue featured within part of the precinct of Wat Chedi Luang is an emblem of this sad story. Statues that surround the temple Wat Chedi Luang, exemplify how ancient myth and history are immortalized in stone and statue. Wat Chedi Luang portrays the thirst for divine intervention.

In front of Wat Chedi Luang

The chedi houses the statue of Buddha, its towering structure, which elevates the figure of the Buddha to a height that is beyond physical accessibility, though not dampening the incessant desire of devotees towards worship. Wires that traverse the distance from ground level to the height of the chedi allow the devotees to deliver offerings via the mere action of a pulley. After the meticulous folding and arrangement of lotus leaves, flowers, fruit and incense sticks within a basket, the offering is deftly delivered towards heaven, while incurring postal charges that would constitute donations.

According to a 25-year-old monk, Phasomchai, the towering Chedi was also once utilized as a shelter for the monks during times of war or conflict. Elephants were stationed outside the tower to guard its safety- hence the presence of statues of elephant heads is evident, as they surround the chedi

The temple of Wat Phra Singh similarly houses intricate gold carvings, featuring the Phra Singh Buddha image, whereby the word Phra refers to Buddha images. The meaning of the word Phra is reified when several golden Buddha figures sit behind the altar within the main prayer hall of the temple; pilgrims of the temple offer gifts at the altar in the form of a combination of banana fruit and flowers, also known as Kakrong Sedokok. Offerings are accompanied by slips of papers containing the pilgrims’ names, date of birth and other relevant details. The devotees place their offerings at the altar with hopes of good luck. Wat Phra Singh displays an embalmed deceased monk, a prominent leader whose name was Kruba Sriwichai.

Chief Abbot Kruba Sriwichai

Rich in carving and statues, ghosts of the past linger, embodied in stone, gold and embalming fluid. Devotees at Wat Phra Singh sit before the embalmed monk figure, praying for blessing. Other devotees are seen kneeling before monks who sit cross legged, sprinkling water over shoulders of devotees as a gesture of blessing. While the embalmed figure sits as if in pensive thought, his eyes fixated in a faraway gaze, believers mimic his stance, placing hopes for certainty in a distant future as they appeal for miracles.

For the monks, religion is a paramount force. For lucid-minded 67-year-old Phrakruwittan, monkhood has dominated his life for 50 years. He explained that he chose this path because he wanted to learn more about Buddhism. On the other hand, the shy and soft spoken 25-year-old Phasomchai explained that he had dedicated his life to meditative solitude since the tender age of 12.

Sai Sin: protective strings for blessings

Evidently then, there is no doubt that religion permeates the lives of people in Chiang Mai.

Profile: Cheah Wui Jia

My name is Wui Jia and I am in my final year, completing a major in Writing. I look forward to learning about the lives of the Buddhist monks who I'll be featuring in one of my articles during the Chiang Mai trip. Understanding people is one of my passions in life and I hope to be able to accomplish that as I strengthen bonds with current friends and make new ones with the people I meet in Chiang Mai.