Bangkok, Thailand
Today I have completed one week of classes with my students. We meet in the wat where they live, work and pray.
In the morning, I leave my apartment and take a songtau ( an open air truck that has two long padded boards in the back and passengers hop up for a ride along an assigned route--similar to the cable cars in San Francisco ). I now know some landmarks, and when to hop off.
The ride, which takes about ten minutes, goes through a street market for about 1/2 mile. In the morning, everyone is scurrying around getting their morning food; motorbikes buzz by the stalls on their way to the main road, and an occasional taxi ( small by our standards ) muddles through the maze of people and vehicles. There is everything on this road: fruit, vegetables, poultry--even a 7-11 midway along the route. I hop off at the end of the line, and walk to the office where I am always greeted by a smile from Sakhorn. He is the office manager, and the fixer of all things gone wrong.
Case in Point. I have not been able to make my connection via dial-up work in the Rio. It has been the cause of great frustration for me because I tend to write at odd times, and use the internet for research as well as email. For three days, Sakhorn, who had eye surgery last week because of an accident, has been patiently trying to solve the mystery of "no connection". And so have I. These are the times that I wish that I could speak Thai and solve the problem myself. But, it is apparently a time for humility and accepting help. It's not impossible to use an internet cafe a few minutes walk from my apartment but it is a bit impractical in the middle of the night--and not secure for transactions that I might want to make.
Yesterday after class, Sakhorn tested the system in our office. It passed with flying colors. I went home, feeling a bit sick from the food, the water, the air--a mix. I put down my things, and sighed a sigh of relief that I had found my way home--still a bit of a challenge for me-- and enjoying the air conditioning after the withering heat. I set up the computer as he had told me--watched as it connected, authenticated...and ( oh, no ) disconnected. I tried again. And again. And again. I went to see the woman in the office of the Rio. She tried. No success. I called Sakhorn. Busy signal. So I did what any red blooded American would do, I turned on the TV to the three channels that are in English listening to pundits wager on Obama's first 100 days.
There was a knock on my door. I answered it and it was Alma, a colleague from Sacramento who has been coming here to teach for six years. She had a helium balloon in her hand and a smile on her face. We talked for awhile and I discovered through listening to myself talk that it must be "hump day" or culture shock whichever you prefer. Alma listened as I described my frustration at not being able to log on and write my blog or email or just google. And how tired I was after not doing even a full day's work.
There was another knock on the door. It was Sakhorn. Can you believe it? He had come all the way to the Rio because he saw my unanswered call on his phone, and said he knew it meant that I wasn't connecting on the internet. It was a party in my little apartment. One half hour later, Sakhorn had solved the problem, his dark eyes squinting a bit against the light, his soft voice soothing as he explained what I needed to do to make a connection after he left.
And then they left--Alma, Sakhorn and Sasha who had accompanied him. I had expressed my gratitude but I couldn't really articulate it. It was too hard.
I will tell you this, though. Seldom in my life have I been with people who have been available to me without crowding me, and have respectfully given me the help I needed without making me feel awkward--or worse, inadequate.
Tonight I am grateful. I have completed the first week of my assignment with my student monks. And I have received the gracious help of nearly strangers who were available, not hovering, just brilliantly astute to my needs.
M.C.
No comments:
Post a Comment