No place to hide

I collected Jonty's report card today. He did well, what a genius! Right up there in the top the class, not the very top, but close enough. How do I know where he came? Its simple - on the report card they indicate where he came in the class.

I thought that I could keep this information from him - the boy doesn't really need to know - until I walked out the classroom. Stuck up on the door of the class is, get this, a copy of the students' results ordered from highest to lowest. When Jonty arrives at school tomorrow, that will be the first thing he sees. So now I have a few hours to prepare him for the fact that (1) he's not number 1, and - more importantly - (2) how to deal with the fact that the results are posted there for all and sundry to read.

I am relieved that my son is up near the top, but I just feel terrible, awful, horrible for those kids at the bottom. And in a society where "face" is everything, I wonder how a kid recovers from being rock bottom...

And remember, they're only six or seven years old.

Over breakfast tomorrow morning, before he heads off to school, I'll be working on trying to help Jonty understand how those kids at the bottom feel and try to encourage a bit of empathy and compassion for them in his heart.

BTW, guess what Jonty's highest mark was for? No, not English, that was second highest. It was Maths. Must have an awesome Maths & English teacher. Ha ha.

Emily and I were up bright and early at 05h45, off to the Beauty Parlour. It was Emily’s big day – leading her school’s parade in town, and the head teacher had insisted that Emily’s hair, clothing, make-up, etc be done by professionals. She’d seen my attempts at a previous event and decided to take drastic action!

We arrived at the beauty parlour – and I felt as if I’d walked into a movie or something, so unreal was the experience. Five transvestites, or “ladyboys” , in various stages of undress, were prancing around getting a group of (teenage) girls ready for the same parade. There was giggling, and gushing, and dancing, and …

I sat quietly in a corner trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. This is NOT a world I am used to, not a place I am comfortable being in.

The head teacher thought these transvestites were quite adorable, and oh so well-mannered. They referred to themselves as “dichan” and ended their sentences with “jiaw” which is lovely and polite.

I was not happy, I admit, at the amount of attention these women/men were lavishing Emily. I don’t think they had anything other than good intentions, but I was still uncomfortable. Fortunately there were a lot of girls to be made-up, so we were out of there in less than 45 minutes.

We raced across town to the parade. All the schools put something up front that distinguished their school – one school has a swimming pool (the only one in town with one) so they had a few kids kitted out with goggles and swim-suits. Another school has a focus on the environment this year – their parade leader wore a magnificent ballgown made from plastic bags. Awesome.

But a couple of schools had their transvestites out front, leading their schools parade. “Transvestites” is not quite the right word for these people. The Thai term for them is “kathoey” which is defined as “an effeminate gay male” or “a male to female transgender person”. Many Thai surgeons specialize in male-to-female sex reassignment surgery.

Kathoeys are often very beautiful – elegant and graceful, with smooth skin. Some believe this may be part of the reason they are so open. They are very much accepted in Thai society.

It struck me that Thai children grow up encountering kathoeys as a normal part of their daily lives – they work in schools, at the beauty parlour, at Big C (and, yes, thousands are in the sex industry), they lead their schools’ parades. Basically, it’s the norm and its acceptable. TV programmes feature them – not to be laughed at but as a matter of course.

I realize it’s a very complex issue, and I cannot do it much justice in this short article, and I sincerely hope that this does not come across as critical or judgmental. Nevertheless I have to say that my heart ached for these young boy/girls in the parade last Saturday. AND for all the children watching them and thinking it was normal, beautiful, lovely, acceptable to have kathoeys leading their school parade.

Emily asked me all about the kathoeys at the beauty parlour. She knew something was not quite right, but couldn’t understand what it was. I tried to explain, as best I could, to an innocent 5-year old. And in the end, Emily said “I know what they are Mom, they are Phuu Mai Ruu” which translated means “people who don’t know”. Indeed, they don’t. They don’t know who they are, they don’t know the God who created them, they don’t know the Truth.

Please pray for the children of Thailand!