22 November 2008 - Privacy

Privacy
Saturday 22 November 2008

Saturday we ended up in Tahsang Village to visit family, and friends as well to continue documenting the life in a small Isaan village.

We got a little later start than we had originally planned. Friday night we were at the hospital until midnight. Duang's son had a problem and needed to see a doctor - male plumbing issue. He came over with his girl friend and we drove into Udonthani to the hospital at 10:00 PM. I had offered to take care of the problem with my Swiss Army knife but he stuck with going to the emergency room. We went to the hospital that the poor people go to. The bill for his visit and two prescriptions was 155 baht - $4.55 USD.

We arrived at the emergency room and after registering sat in the waiting room. I find waiting rooms at hospitals very interesting places - especially here in Thailand.

I remember being fascinated in Maehongson, near the border with Burma, observing children watching television in the waiting room. They were watching a National Geographic program about the polar bears in Canada. I could only imagine how odd it must have been for them to see snow, ice and large white bears.

Friday night was no different. There was a young mother with her two children - a toddler and a baby about 5 months old along with her mother. The baby was hungry so she breast fed the child while seated in the middle of the waiting area. Her little toddler wandered around under the watchful eye of her grandmother. The toddler was dressed in a large yellow sweatshirt that served as a dress - another poor child of Isaan, one of many.

An elderly man came in with his wife. Duang said to me that his son and daughter were no good - they did not take care of Momma and Poppa. The next thing that I know she was asking the man where his son or daughter was and why they weren't taking care of them. The man was not offended at all and told her that they were both working in Bangkok. They proceeded to have a lengthy conversation as if they were old friends catching up on the news. Duang seemed to accept that the children could not help their parents because they were away at work in the big city.

I informed Duang that in America you could not ask people things like that - they would either tell you it was none of your business or fight you ("boxing you"). I added that in the waiting room of an American hospital, people sit and wait their turn without talking to strangers.

Three people arrived. Two young men, and one of the men's mother came in - one on a gurney and the other man and his mother to take care of him. The healthy man sat near us. In no time at all, Duang asked the man what was wrong with his friend. He replied that after harvesting rice all day his friend could not walk because of his knee. I told him that I thought his friend would be OK once HE had completed harvesting the rice. The man caught on to my joke and informed me through Duang that the harvest was already completed. Under my breath I told Duang that since she was being so friendly, the man was going to ask about her son's problem. Sure enough he did! Without hesitation, Duang's son explained what his problem was - I guess that he was over the shock that a female doctor would be examining him. What ensued was a long, detailed, and graphic discussion of the issue. I don't understand a lot of Thai and no Lao, but through body language and finger gestures, I got the impression that either this man or someone he knew had a similar problem and he was going over the details - in detail.

About this time the elderly man had gone up to the scale to weigh himself. He either had difficulty reading the scale or seeing the scale. I told Duang that I thought that he weighed 65 kilograms. None of the staff were interested in helping him - some were occupied watching the soap opera on TV. I went up and read the scale and told him what his weight was in Thai - "hoc sip sahm keelo"(63 kilo)

He was doubly shocked - a falang (foreigner) helping him in Thai and at his weight. He apparently is normally 65 kilo - I told Duang that he must be sick - he lost 2 kilos already. In the meantime the man was walking around the waiting room repeating in an incredulous voice "Hoc sip sahm keelo... Hoc sip sahm keelo ..." After he saw the doctor he stopped by to let us know that he was going to be OK, had some medicine and confirmed that he weighed "Hoc sip sahm keelo" - I guess to reassure me if I had any doubts.

I have witnessed what would be perceived in America as an invasion of privacy many times here in Isaan. Strangers on a songtell will ask where are you from, how old are you, how much money do you make, how much did the camera cost, how long have you two been together and so on. This line of questioning is more motivated out of curiosity and goodwill than obtaining "valuable information" or gossip. The result is a sense of community above and beyond a sense of family. Everything has a price. The cost for a sense of community undoubtly involves giving up some personal privacy.

Duang has told me that she will not talk in America and that she has tape to put on her mouth so that she does not get people to complain or fight her. I have told her that most things that are discussed so freely in Isaan can be discussed in America but only with immediate family. I think that it will be a real eye opener for her. It kind of gives me some thoughts about a blog regarding "Freedom" - at some future date.

Duang's son saw the doctor and she didn't understand (know?) what the problem was so he had to go to another section of the hospital to see another doctor. This section was more like the trauma area. We sat down in a row of plastic chairs facing two large sliding aluminum and glass doors separated by a regular door. The regular door had a colorful emblem and "EMS" (Emergency Medical Services). This appeared to be a break room for paramedics. The sliding door to the right of the EMS room was a ward containing about 8 beds. The sliding door to the left opened up into another ward type room and more as we were to shortly find out. The door to this second ward area was opened and people were going in and out constantly. Duang's son and his girl friend went in and sat down in some plastic chairs to await examination by the second doctor. Children also went into the area to await their turn to see a doctor. Friends and relatives entered and left to give their support to the awaiting patients.

To my right, I heard a clicking sound approaching me. It was an incoming patient on a gurney. He was a young man that had been in an accident. His neck was immobilized by a collar. There was some blood on the side of his head from a wound. Most disturbing of all, he was being intubated. Two people were rolling the gurney at a deliberate pace into the room while a third was pressing the large bulb at the end of the tube that went down the young man's throat. A friend in blood stained trousers was walking with them but quickly was occupied with the paperwork of admitting the victim.

The scene was nothing like you see on television or witness in America. There was no flurry of activity or emotion. It was all very deliberate and unemotional. There were no shouting, sirens, no police, tears, screams or frenzied activity.

Three other people arrived shortly afterwards. One was an older woman - composed but you could see serious concern in her eyes if not fear. Duang engaged the woman in conversation and determined that the victim was her son. He had stopped his motorbike alongside the road to smoke. Another motorbike came along and hit him. The woman recounted all this matter of factually.

After the the gurney was placed inside of the ward just to the left of the sliding door, a nurse closed the sliding door. Although the door was closed, the traffic in and out of the ward continued unabated. Duang's son and girlfriend continued their wait inside along with everyone else including children.

When the door was opened, I could see that nurses were going back and forth from their station to the victim out of my sight - again in a very deliberate pace. Duang got up once and checked through the gap in partially closed door to determine how "her son" was doing. She told me that she saw the doctor performing CPR on the accident victim. This was definitely not a good sign!

Duang's son finished his business with the second doctor and exited the ward. As we left, I saw that the accident victim was hooked up to life support equipment in full view of anyone and everyone in the ward.

Privacy in Isaan is at a premium whether it is in conversation or in what could be one's final moments.

The matter of fact experience and observations of Friday night were not unique. The people of Isaan are not isolated in their individual lives. They are strongly intertwined and woven into a family, village and community culture. This culture is much more fatalistic than Western.
In the National Geographic series, "Light at the End of the World", episode "Science of the Mind", Wade Davis, a Canadian anthropologist, remarks "Buddhists spend all their lives getting ready for a moment that we spend most of our lives pretending does not exist - the moment of our death."

Perhaps this realization and preparation makes the reality of events like Friday night easier to deal with and to accept - for everyone.