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Published: November 28th 2005
New Buddhist Monks
Monks line up for the final ritual in monkshoodMy day was to be a full plate. And it seemed to have turned out that way.
In the late morning I received a call from Gyll, my Australian friend, to inform me of a ceremony at the Buddhist temple (a ‘wat’ in Thai) and that perhaps I would be interested in coming to photograph the scene. As it turns out, I was to witness the transition of the Buddhist men from student to monk.
I don’t claim to know much about the Buddhist culture nor can I write about it with any sense of expertise. But one thing is for certain: you don’t have to be a Buddhist to appreciate the intense spirituality of this faith. As nearly 50 men, both young and old, ‘graduated’ to monkhood (a word I may have just invented) I aimed my camera toward the head monk who sat among five or six others. The alter (again, using this word is a testament to my ignorance) was beautifully laden with flowers, incense and mammoth gold statues of Buddha. They chanted and recited words over a loudspeaker I could not understand, but it was deafeningly clear that this was an important transition. And I
Vines of Change
Fresh vines grow over the tsunami beaches one year after could only continue to press my shutter as they individually crawled on their knees to the head monk where he ritually removed their circular crown and replaced it with draping a golden robe around their neck. They were now no longer students.
The day continued with a trip to Ban Nok Na, the small town where I am building the playground. The rain fell sporadically as we traveled down the long deserted road of about 15 kilometers. (I find myself using the metric system more…how come I could never learn this in school?) Accompanying me is Yui, a young married mother who desperately ran for her life when the tsunami struck, having found an open-air temple in which to hide as the water rose. Also with us is Gyll. For both of them, this is the first time across the water on the ferry to the remote island of Ko Kho Khao. For Yui,, it was a pleasure trip of sorts, but with the horror of the tsunami still in her mind, she refused to allow her 2-year-old to come along for fear of her safety.
Later in the early evening, I was invited to attend a funeral
Long Road
In the pouring rain, they make their way to Bon Nok Na, but still have another 10 kilometers to go ceremony in Ban Nam Khem. This is the area of Thailand that was hardest hit by the tsunami. They are still in the tedious process of identifying bodies in the morgue, and just two weeks ago they uncovered 15 bodies while excavating a reservoir just two kilometers down the road from my hotel.
The ceremony this evening was to celebrate the continuing life and death of two souls. Kip, a 13-year-old girl from the Bang Muang refugee camp has finally been informed that they have identified the remains of her father and her sister nearly one year after their disappearance in the tsunami. Two caskets adorned with flowers, candles, burning incense and blinking ‘Christmas’ lights rested beneath a blue tarpaulin while three monks sat atop an adjacent table chanting. Nearby people were both praying and eating. An all too strange experience for us Westerners, where we usually find ourselves shedding tears and having feelings of great loss. For these people, however, this is a celebration for them to pass onto their next life. No tears. No black veils. No taps.
Just life.
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Sam Alberts
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John, your photography is absolutely amazing!!! Dont have much else to say... dont feel like yammering on again about the jealousy Im feeling :)