Erin in Asia

by Erin Neel

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Volunteering in Paradise

October 2001

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You can buy anything in Thailand. You might think that Thailand is a third world country where everyone is barefoot and lives in mud huts. But while you do see such sights, you can then head less than 20 minutes down a well-paved road to a Kentucky Fried Chicken, an internet café, and some sort of department store. I've eaten pesto here that rivals the pesto served in my favorite Italian restaurant in San Francisco.

Before I left San Francisco, I was under the impression that I wouldn't be able to find all of my necessary supplies. Based on the packing lists from REI, the Lonely Planet guidebook, and my volunteering organization (Involvement Volunteers International), Beau and I stuffed a quarter of our precious backpack space with the contents of a Walgreen's drug store. We packed hundreds of malaria pills, two kinds of anti-itch cream, two kinds of antibiotics, four kinds of over-the-counter pain killers, two rolls of toilet paper, and approximately 140 tampons. We barely had room for clothing. Then we arrived here and found all these items readily available.

When you realize that Thailand really is developing and not necessarily underdeveloped you might wonder what kind of volunteering is needed here. There's a lot to do, actually. Ever since the economic collapse of the 1990's, Thailand has struggled. One of the major tools the country has used to address its economic ills has been tourism. This has successfully pumped millions of dollars (US) into the country, but it hasn't benefited all populations and hasn't done a lot of good for the natural environment.

The organization I work for here, Community Tourism Development Foundation, is trying to create wealth, more equitably distribute the wealth, and protect the environment through community-based eco-tourism. What this means is that we help small communities — usually rice-farming communities — to start up small tourism operations. We work with them to create guest lodging in the traditional bamboo and straw hut style, serve traditional meals, and offer activities that are environmentally friendly.

The research findings of the Tourism Authority of Thailand show that this is a reasonable solution at a critical time. There are still tourism dollars to be had here, and if the communities don't seize the opportunity themselves, then big tour operators will surely seize it instead. If that happens, villagers may become low-paid service workers and witnesses to reckless and destructive development of their land.

Eco-tourism also works in harmony with the communities' rice-farming lifestyle. Farming a rice paddy only requires work two times a year, usually planting in May and harvesting in September. The rest of the year, farmers have little to do. One of their few activities is burning trees to make charcoal. They sell it on the side of the road in makeshift bamboo shelters. This practice, which destroys precious forests, can be replaced with activities necessary to run a tourist destination.

Our First Experience: Tourism or a Human Zoo?

All of this makes for a very interesting job as a volunteer. When Beau and I started volunteering here, we were assigned to work in two different organizations that were starting eco-tourism operations. The first was run by the Hilltribe Welfare Center in the northernmost province of Thailand, near Burma. The Hilltribe Center is where we had the opium-detox jogging adventure I wrote about previously.

After our visit to the opium treatment center, we were assigned to help with the eco-tourism operations of a minority group of people — the Ahka Hill Tribe. The culture of the hill tribes like the Ahka is completely separate both physically and legally from the Thai nationals. They are usually rice farmers like the Thai, but they have distinctive customs and costumes and live in separate villages. The goal of this welfare center was to bring money into the village through tourism. Our role, as it turned out, was merely to be "sample" tourists. We were taken on a very short tour through the village, then shown a traditional Ahka dance.

Television cameras filmed our reactions the entire time. This wasn't the first time we were preserved on celluloid in Thailand, and it wouldn't be the last. We literally became poster children for tourism. Considering we had room in our packs for only two sloppy backpacker outfits, I'm certain that when people see pictures of us all over Thailand in the same grubby clothing, they'll wonder who these ill-kept tourists really are.

The unfortunate thing about this operation was that the staff of the Hill Tribe Center seemed to consider the tribe members creatures to be observed and preserved, like endangered animals kept in captivity for viewing and protection. The staff remarked how unfortunate it was that the tribespeople were starting to buy motorbikes and televisions. I was amazed. As if the tribespeople weren't human beings who would want all the cool toys that everyone else wants. As if they were supposed to forgo modern tools, toys, and technologies for the sake of cultural preservation, for the sake of outsiders who want to observe their quaint and interesting lives. I tried to convey my ideas about this as subtly and diplomatically as possible. I'm not sure that I got the message across or that my opinion mattered as much as it appeared to.

The Real Deal

The second organization we volunteered with — the one I'm working for now — is nothing like the first. This operation provides suggestions, has two-way conversations with and encourages introspection by the village members and leaders. Any village involved in this initiative truly runs the operations and uses us as a resource for training, feedback and marketing.

This is where the fun begins. Among other things, my work involves visiting villages in beautiful, untouched countryside and helping their members identify their expectations and state their goals for becoming tourism operators. I eat their amazing food (lots of coconut milk curries, spicy rice dishes, and delicious treats wrapped in banana leaves), sleep in their bamboo huts, and participate in their budding tour activities.

I travel on long overnight bus rides and roll in as the sun rises over neon green rice paddies. During the day, I hike up a mountain to an abandoned shelter and shrine once inhabited by an old Buddhist monk. I swim under a waterfall and scope out potential mountain bike routes. I float down the river that borders the country of Laos. I make friends with the villagers and play games with the children. I speak a little Thai and teach a lot of English. I learn how to use a loom and laugh with the women as they make fun of my clumsy attempts to copy their beautiful colorful woven mats. I try to keep my balance as I use the traditional squat toilets, and stiffen as I bathe from a trough of cold rain water. I suffer through constant loudspeaker blasts announcing the time of the village meeting, or the items for sale on a passing truck or the fact that the chemicals they are spraying will "prevent the wives of the disease-carrying mosquitoes from having baby mosquitoes." (The Thai are very sensitive on the topic of sex, especially premarital sex. Apparently even the mosquitoes have to get married first.)

Then I take the night bus back to Bangkok and hit the keyboard. On the computer I type volunteer placement descriptions for other volunteers who will go back to these villages. They will teach the English that tour operators will need and create trail maps, brochures and other items to be used in the new villages. I create a website (You can visit now although it won't be officially launched until November 1.) that will hopefully bring more volunteers and more tourists to the villages. I write proposals to get funding so our non-profit organization can afford to pay the university instructors who will teach villagers the business, tourism and language skills they need. And I write home, anxious to re-establish contact with my friends and family before I head off to another remote village in the jungles of Thailand.

Side note: How the bombings have affected life in Thailand

First of all, my mind is with all of you back home. I know that these past few weeks have been very difficult, and while I have been on the outskirts of the tragedy, I still very much feel the anger, loss, and sadness that I'm sure all of you feel. Most of my news has come through CNN, which I have in my apartment in Bangkok. I watch it a lot, That's partly because CNN seemed obsessed with the situation and I've adopted the obsession too, but mostly because it makes me feel closer to everyone I miss back home.

Here things feel pretty safe. Thailand is aware of what's going on, but the sense I get from most people and local news sources is of detached interest and concern. When I tell people I'm from the United States, a sincere look of sympathy spreads over their faces, they touch my arm, and ask about my family. They do care, but most seem to believe that it will not affect them. Thailand is generally non-confrontational — I think of it as a tropical Switzerland. That's how it feels to me now, and how the country appears historically.

All that being said, I'm experiencing a strange phenomenon. I know that in the United States the media has been censoring itself to avoid painful reminders and potentially offensive images while the country heals. Here, they seem to be using the tragedy as an opportunity for a new entertainment theme, similar to "Shark Week" on the Discovery Channel. It could just be my heightened awareness, in the way that once you decide to buy a car you suddenly start to see that model everywhere you look, but let me give a few examples.

The television service I receive in Bangkok brings CNN, HBO and Cinemax via satellite. In the past ten days at least three movies featured either bombings or hijackings.
My apartment complex also shows movies on weekends. Three of the four movies this week were Enemy at the Gates, Crimson Rivers, and Rough Air: Terror on Flight 534.
On the UBC Series Channel on TV, I saw an episode of Seinfeld in which Elaine's plane gets hijacked. I've never even seen this episode before, and I'm a Seinfeld junkie.
The other day a street vendor was punished for selling Osama bin Laden t-shirts.

I almost feel as if many people here think that it really is just a television show. I hope not. Nonetheless, everyone here has been kind and sympathetic, and I am very well cared for by my volunteer supervisor and other Thai friends.