Teaching English in Thailand
Thailand
Originally from Cape Town, I had the fortune of receiving education from just about all the provinces in South Africa, except Transvaal – that was in the days before it was Gauteng. My mother, whom we lived with, was transferred from Cape Town to Kimberley to Bloemfontein to Durban, and so the list carries on. It was in Natal where I finished my schooling. During my Matric I did a year of practical journalism with the South Coast Sun, under Heather Butler and her team (part of a Work Experience Project).
After school I started working immediately for Avis Rent-a-Car and got to deal with international customers from an early age. This sparked my interest in meeting people from other cultures.
Six years later I then learnt of TEFL, a certificate that allows you to teach English in foreign countries. I grabbed the opportunity, packed my bag and took the 11-hour flight to Thailand. This was a year ago. I am contracted to stay another two years, renewable after that.
As I sit here and ponder about South Africa, I think home is where we come from. Home, though, is where my partner and I are. Thailand has been a gracious host. It has also proved to be a tough terrain, much like her pot-holed roads. Fortunately, we both came equipped with all-terrain tyres and a previous knowledge of damaged tarmac.
As I continue to reflect on our year here, I realize there are a couple of clichés that ring true of this country.
The first would be “same-same, but different” – painted on many a beachside restaurant. This phrase stemmed from non-Thais trying to explain a concept to the Thai people. To me it means that although Asians have a thick heritage and Eastern values, we’re all the same underneath – same fears, same money issues, same insecurities – same-same, but different.
The next would be mei pen rai, “it doesn’t matter.” This is a Buddhist phrase which literally means we should forgive anyone at that moment of trespassing. More commonly, it is used to sweep serious issues under the carpet, to tell someone not to stick his nose in your business or to sincerely show someone that you don’t mind at all.
This journey has been swirled with clichés and idioms but it has also been awash with beauty and splendour and a strange familiarity.
You make your way to work in the mornings and the air is thick with the sweet smell of incense and candles burning. Fruit and bottled water lay at the tiny spirit houses along the way. These are miniature homes which these superstitious people believe will house the spirits of the world or those of your own home. They are strategically placed outside the main houses far down the garden path, normally painted in bright colour.
Around the tiny verandas are figurines of people depicting the resident family, probably some company for the shunned spirit. The food and drink left out is to lure the spirit out and to keep his hunger sated so he won’t venture back inside and cause trouble.
The legends that the locals still keep alive with their daily routines intrigue me as I drive past the homes in the morning, making my way to a job where I teach them a new language, English and its many facets. Should I not be taught by these people with their ancient memories and thick heritage?
Thailand is a magical place. Although we live in a Westernised part of the country, the culture is deeply engrained in the local folk. Even in day-to-day dealings with tourists, the Phuketians cling to old ideals. Is there space for both? Can you have a Thai approach alongside a Western attitude? I must give respect where respect is due. These people seem to be getting it right. Like everything they do, they’re getting it right slowly, sha sha.
And that brings me to the next point – doing things slowly. Easy does it. Ring any bells? Sure does. We’re told from a young age to take things easy, look before we leap, slowly now or you’ll hurt yourself. That’s the key phrase here for just about everything that needs getting done, slowly but surely. Feels like home, doesn’t it?
Some things do not go at a slow pace, construction sites, for one. These rubble heaps are popping up everywhere, coupled with makeshift homes for the building crew. There they stay and work shifts of 24/7 until the completed building stands bold in the sweltering equatorial sun, a few weeks later. As a South African, who knows about African time, this has truly been a sight to behold.
Another sight I treasure is the afternoon games of soccer that take place anywhere on some open land. The boys rock up with their souped-up motorbikes, dressed in their kit from boots to a Manchester United strip. On this make-shift field they play, score goals and cheer as the battered ball tears through suspended strips of rope and cloth they call the goal, until the sun goes down and all that’s left of the day are pinkish hues sprawling across the orange clay soccer field.
A friend of mine once commented on how we try to capture the ambience and smells of the place we’re visiting. No matter how good our wording, how vivid our literal pictures, we can’t share the vibe of the place. I agree with him.
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