Ceremony

I always finds ceremony interesting. I often think of what my old professor and friend told me about how grad students are like serial killers. They travel the foreign countryside, extracting tales from aging natives, scratching notes in notebooks. And then, as the aging native reveals his/her story, usually long held close to the heart, the storyteller dies, from the relief of release. I was aghast when I first heard this, and another professor asked if I had any respect for ritual. Hmm, I don't know. Probably not.

Of course, ceremony or ritual in a foreign country is a lot more interesting than in your own country, where you may not even recognize it as such. What I find fascinating (and also at the same time, sometimes boring), about Thailand is the need for ceremony at every level, for every reason, at any time. I have a quick example.

So, I’m at work on a Thursday, busy as usual. I’m at the tail-end of a staff meeting that I am running, including at that moment, a staff development seminar, where I am introducing a new writing activity for the classroom. A Thai teacher bursts into the room and after giving rapid apologies, demands that me and my assistant must immediately proceed to a ceremony about to start. What ceremony? Why? Where?

These questions are never easily answered in Thailand, unfortunately. Finally, I got a “where” out of the teacher and after throwing on a fresh coat of lipstick (looks are everything here), we proceeded to the named location. As we bypassed running and happily screaming children, we were directed into a small assembly room. We were immediately shocked to see lavish decorations all around, the Thai version of elevator music playing, and a small group of obvious VIP’s sitting or milling around. Through another set of doors a little dessert and coffee bar had been set-up. On the stage was a long table draped in pink satin with large arrangements of flowers placed here and there. What was this all for? The signing of a contract. The umbrella school I work at is about to (re)start construction on a massive building which will eventually house our own little school (as well as many other things). This large affair was for the simple 30 seconds of signing (and additional 4 minutes of photographs afterwards) that this would encompass. I was relieved actually. Often ceremonies like these can drone on for hours, where I find myself performing all sorts of Jedi mind tricks on myself to try and stifle the ear-splitting screaming going on inside my head, begging to be released from this motionless sitting position, where I have been listening to the same speech in Thai for over 45 minutes. I always want to sprint from the room, screaming bloody murder. My usual escape, if possible, is to feign having to use the restroom, then having a leisurely stroll around the hallway for as long as I can without arousing anger or suspicion. Then, back to my statue-like sitting and waterfall of thoughts. It seems the art of ritual here is the art of sitting still.