Thailand: between heaven and earth

On the map, Thailand is reminiscent of the head of an elephant. In the north, the country is bordered by Laos and Burma, with a narrow strip of the latter extending further west.

Cambodia lies to the east and Malaysia in the extreme south. The distance from north to south is over 1600 kilometers. Dense forests and mountains form the backdrop to the north, flowing into barren farmland to the west.

Yet this northern part has a lot to offer. A jungle tour on foot, accompanied by a good guide, is an experience that you will not easily forget. And what about the many hill tribes such as Meo, Akha, Yao, Lisu in their colorful clothing. Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai are pleasant places from which you can continue your journey of discovery.

For lovers of the sea and beach, there is hardly a more beautiful country imaginable, because the coastline that runs along the Gulf of Thailand and the Indian Ocean is over 2600 kilometers long. Beautiful white beaches, beautiful bays and beautiful coral reefs below sea level with the most colorful fish. While snorkeling you can enjoy this paradisiacal underwater beauty intensely.

The country is well connected and it journey by plane, bus or train is no obstacle. The people are friendly, the country clean and the food delicious.

Northern or Southern Thailand?

Still, the choice between north or south remains difficult. My personal preference is more in the north. Always have the feeling that this region is less touristy, less hectic and intrusive and still really pure. For several years now, the small town of Chiang Dao has been one of my favorite spots in the north. By bus from Chiang Mai, direction Fang, you get there in about an hour and a half.

It is located near the bus stop hotels Chiang Dao Inn, a good place to stay and if you want to do something more adventurous, go five kilometers further to Malee Bungalow in Ban Tam. The short drive there is a special experience. Not by public transport, but on the back of a motorcycle.

On the corner near the hotel in Chiang Dao there are always a few men – dressed in a blue smock – who will take you there for the sum of one and a half euros. Ban Tam, belonging to Chiang Dao, is home to 400 families and a total of 1400 people. Put your ear up at the local primary school when the children read aloud together and let your eyes wander over the playground during the break.

Early in the morning, around seven, you will be awakened by the loudspeakers that provide the residents of Ban Tam with the latest news. They are not shocking events, stock market reports or other world news. For the people who live here, it is the simple things of everyday life that are important to them. Vaccinating the children, an eye exam for adults, personal registration, or the announcement of the death of a fellow villager.

My good friend Shan has been living in this small community for a number of years now and I have had the pleasure of being here in peace on a number of occasions. By our Western standards, people here live in very poor conditions in very simple houses on stilts, have no chairs or tables and just sit on the floor. The space is furnished as a dining room, living room and bedroom. We call that multifunctional.

Yet I have the impression that the people who live here are no less happy than we are in our so-called civilized Western World. By the way, what does being happy actually mean?

Once a year I come to this village and it is nice that some recognize and greet me again. A few know me by name and respectfully call me “Loeng”. This word can be translated as “Uncle”, but in Thai it has a more venerable and respectful meaning.

The awakening

Almost every morning the village radio acts as an alarm clock for me, but the local news escapes me completely. Shan's expression on this early morning has something I'm not used to. He looks gloomy and it will later appear that a young 26-year-old woman has died, the announcer has announced. Her still very young 21-year-old husband is left behind with a child who now needs help, as this relatively small community realizes all too well.

When someone old or young dies in Ban Tam, no undertaker is involved. That's something you arrange among yourselves. This morning I go with my host to give a final greeting to the deceased. At the house in question, I notice that the mood is not too sad. Outside there are two large canopies of tent cloth to protect against the sun's rays and the deceased is laid out under a shelter. According to custom, Shan hands over an envelope with a financial contribution to pay for the cremation. Then we offer a final greeting to the deceased. Following Shan's actions, I light some incense sticks, fold my hands and bow at the bier.

Local residents sit outside under a tarpaulin, talk to each other and some play cards. Until the cremation, people stay here 24 hours a day to support the immediate family.

I am told that more than a week can pass between the death and the cremation, because the family must be warned and given the opportunity to be present at the cremation ceremony in good time. After all, it was not so long ago that the roads in the North were quite difficult to pass and the Hiltribes (mountain people) were deprived of all modern means of communication.

A long ribbon

When the day of the cremation finally arrives, we walk to the house of the deceased. Shan belongs to the notables of this small village and that is clearly visible. Two young men on motorcycles stop immediately when they see us walking. We have to take a seat at the back and are quickly taken to the house of the deceased.

The deceased is laid out in front of the house. A flat cart with a raised platform on which the coffin, decorated with many colorful garlands. A large photo of the deceased young woman hangs at the front of the car. Although I don't know her, I still feel a little trembling at the sight of such a young person whose life has ended so soon. In the courtyard at the rear of the house, people are waiting at long tables under a tarpaulin that protects them from the sun's rays. It is clear from everything that our arrival is very much appreciated.

Cremation

We are offered ice water and even something to eat to cool down. When the monks arrive in their orange robes, the ceremony begins. Prayers are made at the bier and two long thick ropes attached to the cart are unrolled. I estimate that the ropes are a hundred meters long.

I docilely follow Shan and, as all do, grab the rope in one of my hands. The procession then slowly moves towards the cremation site. Up to two hundred people pull the flat car along with the thick ropes.

Although I did not know the deceased, I feel it is very impressive and I myself would like to be taken to my final resting place in such a way, sober and stylish. Every now and then the height of the car poses a problem for the electric wires that are stretched across the road. At such times, an attendant, armed with a long stick, comes to the rescue and lifts the wires.

A car drives along next to the 'people ribbon', with a large loudspeaker on the roof. I don't understand anything of the stories that are being told, but I am shocked by the loud bangs that suddenly disturb the peace at the cremation site. Later I find out that these explosions are supposed to drive away the evil spirits, because in this country ghosts play a major role in everyday life. The cremation site is a plain lined with trees with two walls in the middle between which the cremation will take place.

Waterlanders

At the entrance there is a small round open building that serves as a serving place for cool drinks for those present. On the left side there are benches with a roof to protect against the sun, but on the right side visitors have to do without that roof. The bier is placed in the vicinity of these walls and some people stack the firewood present between the walls up to the top of them. The driver of the car with loudspeaker turns out to be a kind of master of ceremonies and calls on the close relatives and local notables to deposit their offerings on a table set up for this purpose.

Some monks, dressed in their traditional orange robes, lead the prayer and the offerings then end up in their pick-up, a very appropriate name for such a car.

Then the moment of the last goodbye arrives. The lid is taken off the coffin and everyone walks past the coffin to say a final goodbye. It strikes me that there is hardly any sadness at all. Only two people can't hold back their tears.

The young husband of the deceased woman is playing tricks on the waterlanders and I, as a relative outsider, cannot control my tears either. After the farewell, the coffin is placed between the walls on the pyre by a few men and the colorful picket fence is again on top of the coffin. From this structure a metal wire is stretched to the surrounding trees and the usefulness of this will become clear to me later. A man with an ax in his hand climbs up, opens the box and a strong ax blow follows.

Fortunately, Shan informed me in advance; next to the head of the deceased is a coconut and it is split. Symbolically, the coconut milk that is released must cleanse the face of the deceased.

Then the actual cremation will begin and it will happen in a truly spectacular way. Five 'missiles' are attached to the metal wire that runs from the coffin to four surrounding trees. When one of these projectiles is ignited, it moves burning and roaring over the metal wire, igniting the next projectiles and finally the last and fifth projectile which finally ignites the paper decorations of the picket fence. The whole catches fire and slowly collapses to ignite the firewood. Then the time has come for those present to leave.

When I look back once more at this room, I see that the fire has grown quite a bit and that the surrounding trees bear witness to their grief and all let down a number of leaves.

Is it the rising heat or is there more between heaven and earth, I wonder at the moment.