Singing In the Rain

At age sixty-one, I’m learning a new language. Why? l live in northern Thailand. The culture here is generally gracious and playful, and it would be fun to be able to participate more in what’s happening around me. Speaking Thai is a good way to do that.

But studying Thai means learning to sing a very long song.

That’s because Thai is tonal. It is sung-spoken. So, in addition to memorizing words, I must also learn a word’s tone on “a scale” in order to sing-speak and be understood.

The scale has five tones: high, low, rising, falling, and middle. For example, “kau” pronounced with a short rising tone means “he” but said with a longer falling tone means “rice”.  The syllable “maa” can be pronounced five different ways and mean five different things--I think. Even with my limited Thai, I could give you a lot more examples. If you’re confused, mai bpen lai (no worries)—so am I.

As you can imagine, tones lend themselves to a lot of word play that Thais enjoy, and also make for sophisticated poetry and literature. But tones can be baffling to those learning the language. The more I study, the more confused I am. For the past ten weeks, throughout the rainy season, I have been studying for a total of one hundred twenty hours (not counting homework). Singing, confused, in the rain.

My teacher, Ahjaan Noi, keeps saying, “ Thai ngai! (Thai is easy!)”

But Thai is not easy. When I visited America, my native country, this past summer, many people asked casually if I’d learned to speak Thai, “Asian” and/or Taiwanese, yet? For the record: there is no language called Asian, just as there is no tongue called European. German, French, Hungarian, Polish and a host of other languages are spoken in Europe. Asia is home to Mandarin, Malay, Khmer, Hindi, English and myriad other tongues. (There is no language called Taiwanese. I don’t live in Taiwan so there’s no practical point in learning the languages spoken there right now. But I digress.)

Thailand is in Southeast Asia; Taiwan is an island off eastern China

When It Rains It Pours Abundance

I have taken a break from blogspot since we moved into our new life in Chiang Mai, Thailand. We relocated here at the end of June. Lots of beginnings and firsts and adventures in the short time we have been here. It's my plan to post monthly again starting with this entry. (This blog is based upon a story that was published in the Bangkok Post.)

It's September. The rainiest month in Thailand. Which means it's flood season. Many parts of Thailand are now under water.

Mercifully there are no floods in Chiang Mai. Nor has there been a repeat of the deluge that submerged Bangkok last year. Other places have not been so lucky. A second wall of water hit Sukkothai two days ago just as residents had begun to clean up and to return to their daily lives. The floodwater there was 50 cm high on average.

But for the people in Mae Rahn village, flooding is not all bad news. The seasonal downpour generates opportunities to make more income and to take a break from growing rice.

Most farmers, says local resident Samsak Ponghom, are fully aware that their rice paddies will be inundated by floodwater in September. As a result, they quit farming and catch fish, paddy rats, and snakes for income supplementation and personal consumption. "Pad pet moo na, (spicy stir-fried rat meat), is a popular menu item during the flood season, while the meat of snakes, particularly cobras, yields better prices," Mr. Samsak said. (Note to readers: I do not know how to cook spicy rat as it was not taught at the lessons I took recently at the Chiang Mai Thai School of Cookery.)

Another resident, Payong Khamsai, who raises ducks for a living--4500 to be precise--welcomes the flood because it helps her save money on the cost of transporting her birds to their natural forage grounds. When there aren't floods, she has to hire trucks to take the birds to their favorite places to eat. During the floods, the water acts like a food delivery service so the ducks can eat at home, so to speak.

Payong, like many other residents, thinks the floods aren't that bad

Some, like Mr. Somsak, wish the floods would last longer. Typically, the water subsides after 3 months. "It should be 5 months at least", he says.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.