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- Finding Sidhartha in the Underworld
by G. Scott Alamanach Mikalauskis
Eighty miles northwest of Bangkok, between the rugged foothills of the Tanaowasri mountains, lie the sugar cane fields of Kanchanaburi Province. Most of this province is rural farming country, a place where foreigners are usually never seen. There is, however, one tourist Mecca; Kanchanaburi contains the place where the Japanese decided in World War II to build two bridges on the River Kwai.
16,000 POWs and 100,000 conscripted Asian laborers lost their lives to this project, and an eerily beautiful cemetery memorializes their sacrifice. The original bridges‹one of steel and one of wood‹were both destroyed by the RAF during the war, though a new, identical steel bridge now spans the river. It is a fully functional structure, designed for use by pedestrians and locomotives. There is also a nearby museum that documents the POWs¹ plight.
Tourists, souvenir shops, and probably pickpockets are easy to find in the area of the River Kwai Bridge. Many of the tourists come with admirable motives; a number of them are old enough to have some personal connection to the history, and they can be seen walking the cemetery with a simple, sincere reverence. Even the young seem to realize that this is not the place for glamour and cheap thrills.
The River Kwai itself is broad, reasonably swift, and surprisingly shallow. Numerous boats of various sizes ply the waters for different reasons. Some boats are personal vehicles owned by the locals, others are converted barges with a layer fancy woodwork designed to separate tourists from their money. Locals sell bags of food pellets for tourists to feed to the river¹s fish. The fish, long accustomed to this food source, congregate tightly at strategic locations along the river.
But away from the area of the bridge, tourists are hard to find. That foreigners do not regularly visit the rest of Kanchanaburi Province is evidenced by the reactions of people‹particularly children‹to the presence of a white-skinned outsider. One boy repeatedly asked your author to either ³give me the ten² or ³give me the time,² though he was clearly unsatisfied with any of the responses he received. Then a friend corrected his English, and he plainly asked ³give me the money.² If his approach needed some refinement, at least his desires were clear.
The hills of Kanchanaburi are riddled with caves, caves which the Thai people use as makeshift Buddhist temples. Wat Tambenjaratnakorn, for example, is a temple complex on the side of a very large hill run by a number of saffron-robed monks. They have built their home and main prayer area in a flat clearing, but a concrete stairway climbing well over a hundred feet up the side of the hill leads to the entrance of a broad, drooping cave. Some eighty Buddhist statues populate the cave, and local Buddhists flock here to observe their various religious rituals. In proper Thai tradition, shoes are removed before entering the sanctified ground of the cave. Normally, stocking feet are common sights in a Buddhist temple. But here the floor is made of mud, as opposed to wood, marble, or tile. No one wants muddy socks, so worshippers in the cave are typically barefoot. Adults can be seen dutifully praying, while young children understandably prefer to chase each other through the caverns. Throughout the province there are many caves like this one.
Unlike Christianity, Buddhist monks are not expected to devote their life to a monk¹s calling. It is common for someone to spend only a year or two as a monk, and then return to secular life. Perhaps for this reason, it is relatively easy to encounter a monk ordination ceremony on any given day. These are ebullient public ceremonies that outwardly have much in common with a New Orleans jazz funeral. A public procession, which any passer-by is welcome to join, dances cheerfully in the street while accompanying musicians play celebratory music. The monk-to-be rides along in a vehicle or is carried. The monk candidate, ever contemplative and serene, is the only one exercising emotional restraint. This is in keeping with the teachings of many religions, which counsel a moderated, steadfast response in the face of both good and bad fortune.
Thailand¹s fortunes are changing swiftly in the face of globalization and rapid economic growth. In the recent past, the most common way to travel through the capital city of Bangkok was by boat. Bangkok has more canals than Venice, and slender motor boats were the personal vehicle of choice. Today, in the wake of economic boom times, everybody has a car. The boats have become almost impossible to find, and when found, they are not being used. New temples are being constructed of reinforced concrete. As these trends continue, the Thais might choose to abandon their caves. One hopes they will not abandon their spirit.
