Faces in the Crowd

micah — Sun, 13 May 2012 02:51:00 GMT

Today I walked to the spot where barely a week ago someone lobbed a grenade in the way of a busy intersection in my home city. As I came up the street I noticed people slowing down and stopping by a particular electric post with eyes heavy and heads bowed.

It turned out that a tarpaulin had been put up with the names and faces of the two students who had died in the incident. Cars and pedestrians all paid a respectful pause as they passed by. The persons on the wall were so unremarkable and so normal that Looking at their pictures I felt a cold dread welling up from within (and I know everyone there felt it with me too): that it could have been anyone of us who had died suddenly and senselessly on that spot. I don't know these victims personally, but the heaviness of their deaths became real when I realized that it could have easily happened to me right there.

I could have just been minding my own business, walking on the way home, getting a bite across the road, making photocopies at the nearby store, whatever. Everyone walks that way at least once in a week to get anywhere in town. Apparently that wouldn't be enough. Even then I could still meet an untimely death while just spending the night out with friends, like Djay and Jonel did, or incur severe life-changing injuries as the 24 others in the hospital have.

Most suffering is endurable once you know the purpose for which you bear the pain. It starts becoming unbearable once you are tempted with the thought that the pain in the loss is ultimately for naught. I guess, then, that this could only be an exercise in ventilating frustration, since I do not write this as someone who knows exactly why it happened. And such is the nature of frustration: that intangible weight of unanswered yet intimate questions just tearing at your heart.

Theories abound as to why someone would throw a grenade at random bystanders. None of which really matter or are worth putting here. The point is nobody knows. I'm sure somebody somewhere is responsible and should be made to answer for it. But until then, we will have to remain for now good neighbors, living and coexisting together.

My Scholarship entry - Understanding a Culture through Food ("Death by Curry")

micah — Sun, 22 Apr 2012 19:31:00 GMT

Tired, hungry and all out of bahts from exploring the indomitable Chao Phraya and its mystifying temples the whole day, I headed back with no choice but to charge dinner via hotel room service with all the money changers already closed for the night.

The Gang Kiew Wan Gai (Sweet Green Curry with Chicken) immediately caught my eye. And it was a strategic decision: a “sweet” kind of curry would avoid the unbearably spicy Thai dishes like the Gang Ped (Red Curry) that I had struggled to eat earlier.

When I called room service the lady on the other line checked whether or not I wanted my curry “extra spicy.” With a nervous laugh I told her that I didn’t, and that in fact I didn’t want it spicy at all. “Maybe a little spicy?” she teasingly suggested. And not wanting to seem rude, I gave in, saying, “Okay. But only a little spicy.”

When the curry finally arrived in my room, my fears were confirmed. The sweet green curry was now undeniably phet mak: extra spicy. I felt my scalp starting to heat up and itch just staring at what looked and smelled like a steaming bowl of volcanic wasabi soup, tasting it vicariously through the prickly fumes that now sent water down my nose.

Every burning spoonful I had to extinguish with gulp after thankful gulp of ice water. But as the shock of the spices started to wear off, I began to probe into its unique flavor. And so cautiously I made my way to the end of the bowl until its secret finally became clear. In true fortune-cookie eloquence, this curry was a living parable for how there is sweetness waiting for those who see past the seemingly overpowering spiciness. And I put the bowl down, taking it all in.

Maybe this was why the lady just had to make my curry spicy: to tell me that spice is unavoidable and that to remove it would be dishonest to authentic Thai cuisine and reality in general. The only curry worth eating in this world is that which ignites your senses into new life. And hers definitely did.

Thoughts in Transit

Faces in the Crowd

My Scholarship entry - Understanding a Culture through Food ("Death by Curry")