Of Pigs And Houses

---

Airline Ambassadors International (AAI at www.airlineamb.org) has funded the construction of a new home for a woman I met two weeks ago. I don't build homes; I build playgrounds. But this woman is special. She was a tsunami victim and escaped with her life and the lives of all her family. She lost her hospitality job (the hotel was demolished by the wave) and was forced to sell noodles from her motorbike to earn a living until the hotel could be rebuilt. She has returned to her former job, now making 9,000 baht ($225 USD) per month...to support her two children and four others that don't belong to her. She is considered the town's Mother Teresa, but then there are so many of them here. You'll find that the Thai women take in children even if it means they cannot afford to care for them. In America I believe its called a foster home...but then you get paid to take care of them. No such program here.

I was introduced to this woman by Rotjana, the director of the nearby refugee camp and who has become my close friend. Since the children weren't directly affected by the tsunami (I guess that means they weren't floating around waiting to be rescued) they can't be taken care of by the government. They all live in a small rented home (used loosely) that most people wouldn't keep their livestock in. The mother's wages are low and her expenses are high. After a proposal to AAI to seek funding, they graciously extended their help. I thank them for their trust in my judgement and for their loving and kind support on this project.

Today I stopped by the job site to see their building progress. The local laborers started building just yesterday and would have started sooner but the local fortune teller said it would be better if they started a day later. Try that at home when the contractor shows up with a load of cement! "Uh...sorry, fella, but can you come back tomorrow? Our witch doctor advised us to start tomorrow." I would guess he'd dump his load of cement in your convertible.

Two days into the homebuilding and the roof supports are up and things are looking great. As the guys worked using crude tools and rusted hammers (not used much as most everything here is made from cement so it doesn't rot in the humid coastal air) and wearing flip-flops, I sat on a bamboo 'rug' and was treated to a cold sugar drink. The local women began to show me their family photos from an old plastic basket. I felt embarrassed as I was being treated like a king. But don't tell them I said that because they revere their King and I'm no match for him here!

What I did find rather interesting was when a large open-aired truck drove by and parked across the street. Just one-hundred feet away from me I heard loud banging, sounds of metal rattling and then...grunting. One of the women sitting with me smiled at my curiosity, and for the lack of the English language, sounded the word 'pig' and then drew her hand across her throat like a knife. It was quite clear that the building across the street was where they slaughtered their pigs. She waved her hand to encourage me to go there and watch them, but I acted as though I didn't understand her. Then a man rode up on a motorbike carrying two large plastic tubs. Not sure what for, but I wasn't that curious. Turning back to the men working on the house and trying not to think of what was going on behind me, I sipped my sugar drink and tried to converse (with hand gestures) about anything I could think of.

I've seen lots of blood in my time, especially while digging out victims from the wreckage of a vehicle accident during my many years as a fireman. But something was terribly horrible about what was going on behind me. I wanted to tell them its wrong, but I don't know how to say it in Thai. Or could I say it at all? Would they find my principles offensive to their culture?

And then the squealing began. It was time for me to leave.

---